I’m writing to you because I miss you.

And you may be my one true love.

My first at least.

Though i didn’t know it when I met you.

I miss you

I miss the way you welcome me in

The way you understand me.

I miss the way you can see my truest self.

I miss the way I become myself when I am near you.

the way you are me and apart from me all at once

The way the stars look reflected in your eyes.

I never fear you though others do

I embrace your wildness

Your resilient good humor.

Your unique, nothing else like this, feeling.

The tear tracks on your heart from a thousand brutal fights and you still have so much love.

I kiss you and I can taste it

I can taste the fire, and the sunlight,

the trees and the vast distant rolling savannah.

When i touch you I can feel it

The drumming.

The gum boots, the stampedes, the thunder.

And when I close my eyes,

I can hear it.

The lions roar, the elephants trumpeting.

The thousands of tons of water at Victoria falls

The fish eagles cry

The singing boys at the choir school

The bushman's clicking language.

The cheetah's purr.

The wall of fire from the wild burning days.

The laughing.

The dancing. The singing. The fighting.

And as I breath, you breath,

As I rest, you lie awake, a quiet guardian in the night.

I lift up my hand and you take my fruit.

You silly little bushbaby.

I’ll give you my pineapple forever.

I hide behind the small acacia tree. and I see you.

I see the great king of Africa.

Isilo the Elephant.

The eyes so wise.

The tusks so fierce.

I am protected by you.

Beauty is to small a word to describe the way your body curves.

The blue of your skin. the green hues, the deep orange gold of winter hills.
The purple sunset.

The wetness after a storm.

The glowing embers in the night.

The dragons back. the most magical thing I have ever held in my eyes.
I miss you

Little grandmother on the hill.
Who bakes and meditates.
and drinks tea and gets her way
because *******, I deserve respect!

And little chocolate friends.
Your shandy on the rocks.
Your cottage in the woods.
Your cats and now your coming twins.

And the neighbors who play with eagles.

And Barrie who let me fly in his plane after only knowing his name five minutes.

And the witch who lived next door and could turn into a leopard.
And my grandfathers paintings that cover the old hotel.

The way people say my name.
The way I become myself.
And for the first time in my life,
I know who I am.
Released from my old stale life, I was rooted in magic, and earth, and love, and sacred eternal energy.
ADVENTURES so magic... I could cry.
I miss you so
I miss who I am around you.
I wish I could find you here.
I will find you again.
I will come back to you.
My beautiful country
One day

How strange to let a word become completely what it is, letting its lineage speak for it's use.

He was good.

She was bad.

He was angry,

She was a *****.

I am a good mother.
I am a bad husband.

So we turn the word into bland and indisputable fact.

You hurt me.

You love me.

I am afraid of you
I want you.
I know you...

What does the knowing feel like?

Will it ever come?
If i am unsure if i am good and bad, how shall i make my mind up about the rest of the world?

I need everyone to be ok

because then i can be less

then ok

and it will be ok

because my foundations will be strong

but my walls are weak.

and you hang your sorry portraits

with nails

Held my hand when fear was holding my chest.
Told me to be calm.
Remember to smile.
I am not for you.
I am not for everyone.
Do i edit myself?
To become more marketable?
Or preserve my value in smaller margins
Canvas.
I am yours
Paint what you will
Pain isn't permanent.

Cargo ship

fixing to go. Winds are a cleaning.
Sting the eyes of the passenger

He prepares his feathers.

Damns his past.

Wonders if he'll ever fly again.
But knows that it is floating that he will do until it's sinking he prefers.

Love,
the blazing fire at the center of it all

I shall warm my chilly hands and sit a while.

But lest i fall in,

I keep my distance.

Constricted in the tiny ***.
this plant has lost it’s will to grow
The lightness fades inside the room
the curtain shades the greenish brown
I forgot that i was more,
than this room. this house, this place

I forgot how to transplant.
I forgot how to grow

Don’t let me wither.
Don’t abandon me in the cold.

How can i survive this potted life,
this winter,

It was easy to love me when the spring was here, and i was bright and full of wonder.
I could fill a room with bright vernal sweetness.
And then i began to blend into the wallpaper.
a perfect little wallflower.
Tendrils constrict,
and branches droop.
flowers swept away,
and bark begotten by dust and moth

Who will inherit me?
Or perhaps just an empty ***.

I wish i could erase you

from my history

and forget what it felt like when you touched me

and the rain on our skin when we biked past those pumping throbbing anxious houses...

the riots in the streets forgotten..

I would forget the wisp of smoke. the dotted line that connected at the mouth. the how to guide for first encounters

the holding on. the dancing.

the patience. the listening.

I would forget it all.

scrub it away.

delete the history

Because you did

And the day crashed down

Like a wave

Pulling away the certainty of newness

As soon as it had pressed its lips to mine.

And casting back all the things I thought I would never see again.

When you let stones go, they float and sink and get tugged away, free.

And loves too. But then they come back to you, when you want only the new.

Please let me be with you.

And forget the past

Like waves that become something

Like they've never been before.

I bought it.

I bought it for more then i thought it would cost me.

And now it's all drawn, this month long purple line.

Will it take me? Will i be shaped and morphed and molded?

Can i come back bigger and better then i was?

Time to ride the paper airplane, and loose myself again

Adventures come, just like the tides

Lick my finger and check the wind.

Pages filled, photos trace the truth in tiny flecks of ink.

And I become lonesome in my perfect joy.

Joyful in my contented solitude.

And maybe a boy named Jesus with skin like the first
He'll kiss my eyes and smell like a perfect storm

and that can be my brief tomorrow.

Sinful sleep and fruit from stands.

and songs and magic of holding hands.

Lock her in a cabin
Turn off all the lights

She shines to bright
To be allowed

I don't shine
Not from within
I reflect

And behind that i am shadow

And it's what i do
I make shadow
Rubbed underneath the eyes
Charcoal hearts
Graphite glass of person

My hands are good
My mouth is prettiest when it's shut

The winter is the time when shadows are most common

Night sits atop his throne
And stars rely on tiny doubts
But my doubts have grown
They blot out the sun
And i reflect the night
Double the darkness
Contain the spirit
Or perhaps return it from where i stole it away

The night relies on the hope of morning
To keep its prisoners obedient and tame

But i know the morning never comes
To those with eyes wide open

And certainly to those who speak the truth
And those who wake the chosen