"can we pretend that from now on
there is no yesterday
paint a portrait of tomorrow
with no colors from today..."

                            ~ bill withers

i remember that every
moment is an opportunity
to begin again.

the single most important knowing
is that i am not inherently flawed.
this is easy to forget.

i often feel i am
at the periphery of my life
poised to enter.

one step
is all it takes
to get it right.

i am not a survivor
though blessed with a
stubborn resilience
each ending has taken
a bit of me with it.

i am not a soldier
though in service of love
some places are
hard to come back from.

the contents of my heart
compose a letter i will never send
living sediment
at the bottom of the sea.

i will not sit at the table of sorrows
swallowing the regrets of
past undoings
though i wrestle with these
desires so tightly wrapped
it seems i am forever reaching.

there is a thin, constant anxiety
i can't get to the bottom of
perhaps the ghosts of what i loved
this is what it's often like for me, alone.

it is hard not to greet the
looming questions with trepidation
i want to welcome them
but my heart is a step behind my hope
searching for a landing.

2009 felt like being stuck in an underground train. it made my teeth hurt and my eyes water, the waiting. i just wanted to be ok again. i just wanted to feel like myself. a million little things became unimportant in my struggle to survive. i boo-hooed but i didn't buckle. i made it.

i have to remind myself that i am not in that place anymore. i consciously exited. i let the sun in. the dark cloud went off to find someone else to haunt. or maybe it's just hiding. either way, now is my chance.

something must be done.

it's time to get back to the business of creating, of making something. the pain in my side or in my heart are no longer good excuses. the cobwebs caught in my throat deserve no more attention. this is the responsibility of the living. we must soldier on.

january is black ice. the day after the party, messy and the liquor is gone. it is piles of wet blankets. it is scraggly promises hidden under the bed. it is empty pages. it is a crick in the neck. january is waking up and forgetting the dream.

i want to learn to embrace winter. hold it in my arms and tell it it is beautiful. inhale its icy kiss and pour myself into it before it leaves again. winter is the sacrificial season. it reminds us of our love for spring. it is the rebound, the lover we sleep with one last time. it puts up with our demands and insecurities, our hopes for being more than we are. it warms our beds with promise. winter takes one for the team.

january wants us to grow, to listen to our dreams and remember what we long for. it seduces our motion to rest and coaxes the creativity out. i will slow dance with it, sip tea with it, cuddle and canoodle. i will hear its whispers. welcome its gifts of hibernation and stillness. let it awaken my desires. i will make january mine.

"...ain't nothing new but we're always changing, moving
still waters, soft yet so hard
so what is love?..."

                                                ~ bilal

i have traveled this year
down a most peculiar path
driven by some unknown desire
moved beyond myself.

i am grateful for my seasoned heart
it has shown me what is so
difficult to name.

i do not know what is
yet to be revealed.

i embrace her.

"you'd never know it
but buddy, i'm a kind of poet
and i've got a lot of things to say."

                ~ 'one for my baby (and one more for the road)'

the past finds me forward
balanced on heart strings
easing slow over the grain
full note emerging.

if i am honest i will say that
i feel slightly out of tune
humming language-less
unsung.

i savor the pauses
the moments of breath landing
ten thousand joys
ten thousand sorrows
the winding road.

an awakening swells, unfolding
smelling of autumn and sweet wine
my whole body in his hands.

a tentative toe reach across
this space holds beliefs
my heart no longer recognizes.

there is hope
and love
and sweetness i long to taste.

there is she who
thrives in becoming
turning in an endless dance.

a bottomless bottom
the familiar haunt
choked on its echoes.

i am still between seasons
breathing in layers
waiting for the other shoe to drop.

it seems time has
moved on without me
perhaps i can find
solace in that.

i am learning to
live with loose ends
maybe one day i will love them.