Why there are cicadas - a tinnitus story
written November 1st, 2021

One day there was a small child
who woke up in the night
to the sound of cicadas.
Her grownup comes in to check on her.
The small child doesn't talk very much.
She looks at the grownup and rubs her ears.

Her grownup asks, "Does the noise bother you?"
The small child nods yes.
The small child's eyes ask...
Why is it there?
What does it mean?
Why does it never stop?

Her grownup smiles and tells her...
Those are cicadas dear one
they knew that sometimes
you were lonely and afraid
so they came
hundreds of them
thousands of them
to keep you company
so you would never be alone.

If you wake up
and wonder if you are safe
just listen for the cicadas.
I know they are loud sometimes
they just want to be sure
you know they are there
so relax into the sound
float on it knowing
you are not alone
and go back to sleep dear one.

Breathing space
written November 3rd, 2021

Space stretches
into the distance
I send my breath
towards you

soft like a breeze
tickling your hair
embracing you
pooling around you
making this space

for you
to be
to rest
to feel peace
a breathing space.

I am not an apology
started June 9th, 2021

I wanted this poem
to be a song declaring
that I am not an apology
but I am not there yet

I feel like something born then broken
spending my life apologizing
for not being able to fix myself
for not being what people wanted

Trying to stave off danger and hurt
I hurl apologies at the world
and the people in it.
I am sorry for being me.
.
.
.
One day
I want to stand here
in all my broken glory
for the world to see
and not apologize.

~I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
—Portia Nelson, "Autobiography in Five Short Chapters"

My own four experiences with holes
written October 5th, 2021

1.
I walk down a road
I fall into a hole
This happens a few times
I stop walking down roads.

2.
I get tired of being stuck in one place
I decide to try again.
I walk down a road
A different road than before
I know holes can happen
I keep my eyes on my feet
Just in case.

3.
I walk down roads
I carefully keep a list
of roads with holes
It is always in my mind
Is this a safe road?
Will it be safe today?

4.
I walk down a road with a friend
I forget to check if it's a safe road
We are talking and laughing
Then I realize
This is that very first road
the one with that big hole.

Did we not notice and walk around it?
Did we float over it?
Is the hole gone?
Will it come back?

So many questions.
All I really know is
I am grateful for
the moments of not worrying about holes
while laughing with a friend.

~In the cave of the ear, the bones, like stars
at the solstice, sit upright and still,
listening in on the air as the muscle and blood
listen in on the skeleton.
—Robert Bringhurst, "The Song of Ptahhotep," Gift of Tongues

This body which is mine
written June 1st, 2021

For too long
my body has listened for
phantom danger coming my way
my body tensed waiting.

Now I am training myself
to listen to the sound
of my solid solitary bones
the soft drumming of my blood
rushing and cresting
in the shores of my body.

I listen as my muscles
stretch and contract
moving lungs and limbs
part of the symphony
coordinated by my brain.

I listen to my body
and learn to hear the beauty
the coordinated song
of muscle and blood
bones and brain
wrapped in my soft skin
the miracle of this body
which is mine.

floating and fleeing
written August 13th, 2021

floating and fleeing
I spin through the air
my hair flying out
my head thrown back

spinning and teasing
my throat exposed
to the graze of your teeth
catch me if you can

playing and following
far away from the world
until your hands
anchor me here and now

touching and caressing
each other.

Of me—Being
written August 15th, 2021

Usually I have
no time or place
floating in the ether
until I whisper
my name
in your ear.

For a brief moment I am
here and now
known
anchored to this
time and place
with you.

In the index of my life
this moment will be listed
as one of the rare
occurrences
of me—
Being.