eight spoons

Day 19

eight spoons
measure my day
at one time I had more
ten or eleven
twenty when I was younger
but today eight spoons
sit in my coffee mug
sometimes filled with sugar
whatever sweetness
I need to curb the harsh bitter now
when the world becomes
too much
after months
and months
of pushing through
in spite of everything else
in spite knowing it doesn’t
matter or make the difference
I want it to
One day
I will wake up
one day
and there will be
no spoons left

I write to you in deep night

Day 17

I write to you in deep night
While rain falls
I wait for sleep to steal me
But I have been awake for years
I hear more clearly in darkness
Sitting with the sky

Later a storm will rattle the window
Thunder will shake the building
Before passing
Morning will come
dressed in last night’s dreams
I will remember them
Over coffee

I will write about
what I dont want to write about
Until it strangles me
Pulls me inside out
And leaves breathless
On the floor

I will write myself
Into life
As dawn spreads wings
And smiles to reveal
The azure sky

I will write to you in deep night
Words you may never read
But somehow
I hope you feel them
As I do
Like a walk through
My soul’s estate



To set it right

Day 16

to set it right
on the balance
ice to the jaw
after the punch
hidden bruises
no voice left
in the shadows
I tried to use it
more than once
my voice
as quiet as it is
is loud
are not
and yes
I have listened
almost fifty
in spite
of appearances


Looking backwards

Day 15

looking backwards
in the bathroom mirror
trying to see the part of me
I cannot see
a photograph blurred
three bulbs gone
leaving just enough
for hair brushing
and nothing more
night has wrapped itself
around the building
the last light of the sun
long gone
no one awake
that I can ask for help
no hand held mirror
to turn
in passing
I am not sure
what I am looking for
forgiveness perhaps
or understanding
or clarity
or the comfort of darkness

I am aware


I am aware
of this journey of skin
its curves and rolls
in right places
in wrong
how other eyes defined
filled cups of distain
to sustain me
through the years

I am aware
of this journey of skin
of not being enough
to satisfy
or qualify
how that bore
craters within me
that no amount of tears
could fill

I am aware
of this journey of skin
now a little less on one side
too much on other sides
the pain of recovery
wounds still fresh
unhealed in their age
scabs picked at
they may still take years
of kindness
to balance

I am aware
of this journey of skin
and the words I should hear
store in my heart
let grow from small, precious seeds
watered not with fear
not with sadness
not with hate
not with disgust
just love and care
if I let myself
just this once


I didn’t ask you

Day 13

I didn’t ask you
for proof of life
no song no heartbeat
no smile no touch
I asked for nothing
and in that moment
you gave it to me
a cup of dust
the wind caught it
at the end
I held an empty cup
never to fill again

I didn’t ask you
for love
no thought no kindness
no kiss no flame
I asked for nothing
and in that moment
you gave it to me
a cup of dust
the wind caught it
at the end
I held an empty cup
never to fill again

I didn’t ask you
I didn’t know
I had to
I asked for nothing
and in that moment
asked for everything
a song
a heartbeat
a smile
a touch
a thought
a kindness
a kiss
a flame
because I loved you
just the same



Time held its breath today

Day 11

time held its breath today
and I was lost in between
somewhere beyond
the ragged edge of being
not watching
barely still
in my skin
while I struggled
to find the surface
the universe became bigger
a photograph
to show an ancient past
outside of what was known
only moments before
as imagination
while I drowned in space
unable to grasp
the smallest point
to right myself
still reaching
the world fought itself
people traded in lies
the innocent voices
while I sat
cherry blossoms unfolded
in the mountain’s shadow


making space

Day 9

making space
for myself
carving it out
of the stone walls
I build around myself
out of protection
out of love
water wearing
tears on granite
on rose quartz
on sand
curled along
woven into

making space
for my soul
it has grown
beyond the house
travelling like summer
on a breeze through
the screen door
open windows
under eves
over porch steps
up cellar stairs
out over the garden
and down

making space
to breathe
where the sky
meets the trees
find me there
among the roots
like sap rising
to budding leaves
like wind under down
lifted in flight
like morning slipping
through pine boughs
to greet

making space
to be


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