today on the radio, the voice of british engineer
shackled in a chicken wire cage in iraq, is crying and
begging his prime minister
“please don't leave me here...”
the sound of his desperation rises like black smoke,
takes a solid
form, lodges itself in our hearts, non-transferable as
we continue to
invent as we go, what to do next. this evening, a
about homeland security and foreign policy...
life has spilled out of its channels.
the rain has finally stopped, the puddle in my
deep enough for minnows. dawn wrings itself out
sun comes up, and trees shake off their heavy wet
move on in the wind.
outside the back door, a large spider, the colour of
sand looks like a
crab walking on air, weaving, weaving the repairs of
this airy space, this life, holds everything in place. do
not pluck or cut
or name what you find hanging – it's only time
a sense of the invisible in the corner of my vision, a
glint of gold, a
secret life is moving between the trees; they are
in the solitude, behind the rocks, in the tall grass, and
surface of the water, meaning passes silently.
this is not daydreaming. it's watching yourself dream.
the way children
play. draw the curtains. open the curtains. vanishing
or fusing? what
course will this take? when the time comes that I can't
feed myself or
get up from where I lay?
thoughts are throwing themselves like discarded
clothing inside my
head. i pick up a few and make some notes, but the
about, disappear when i turn on the lamp. sometimes
the very word
i need goes dark. i want to get on my hands and
knees and look for it
the trees have entered the house. they are on the
stairs and in the
hallways between the rooms. i can hardly see you
you stay, you go. you will be someone who will always
sounding the hurting horn at the wrong time. you
catch your plane.
my body wants to fold forward like a suitcase locking
in the pain.
i begin giving things away. a long time resident of my
head, I tidy up,
fold the past away, and gather what feels like a new
thought – to admit that we just don't know, never knew,
where we are
going. passengers waiting for departure.
tonight i pull on a cloak full of the moon that won't come
off. i begin to
dance around a hole in the world where love once
thrived. i hear the
trees applaud. whirling in the shining light, i float. i
fall. i learn to fly.
healing without, healing with