they refuse to find common ground.
my heart wails;
like a child, lost
and my mind reasons;
like an old hat.
somewhere between them
i struggle to surface
and relay what thoughts i can from the front-
there used to be a kind of touch i had
and while in some ways i have perfected it;
in the pursuit and others
i have lost it entirely-
i may as well have been struck dumb with the wonderful job i have done composing myself.
although nothing happens, the urge, the itch
the desire to write exists.
my life is empty
i fail to see beautiful things
they chased me-
once upon a time the words leapt up at me from off the page
and the world i lived in came alive---
i should write----
this morning the clouds were so grey against the pale blue morning sky-
it has been so phenomenal to wake and watch their lucidity
float in the layered green hills of the valley
over which our house sits.
the clouds move as they would over the vastness of water
in the open mouthed harbors of old new england-
yet our valley rests here, landlocked-
peaceful with itself and the scar of the highway
that runs along up it.
there are so many things these mountains hold for me
that there are memories connected here that i no longer need flinch from
that the good ones seem to be the ones that come to mind
as the bad ones have seemed to completely melt into oblivion.
i suppose that is part of the process that is needed to heal
running so old and so deep...
i have taken to sleeping out upon the back deck;
the lower level of which is screened in and has furniture and a futon-
it was thrilling to lay out there and be able to be still in the darkness
and the wind lightly dancing in the night
around my mother's garden.
sleep came when unguarded;
and awaking was a surprise at each turn;
startled like a small animal or
feeling the sun calling you to awaken--
i spent most of monday morning watching the clouds
purge their lightning upon the valley
the sky above the house
bright and sunny
while the space below
framed by the trees we have in the backyard
lay in the gloom of the rolling storm;
it was so lovely and relaxing-
and i wished that you had been there
laying beside me to share it-
a day spent under the blue
under the rain
with the world
vibrantly happening around you.
i shouldn't think of you in these ways-
i am even a fool now to breathe life into these very words
but eventually my heart breaks my logics down
pleads with me on this one
willing once again to take a chance-
the mind doesn't take long
to fall harmonious;
i am a happy person--
and if this leads me more often into hurt
for the pursuit of a noble cause
i don't mind so much....
i should stop writing them;
sometimes for words i can no longer find inspiration.
It is hard to want it so badly
and be denied so long
the cool touch of the embrace of the muse-
to be given a voice
and allowed to shine-