Where does real time exist? I don’t have anyone else’s truth, only mine, a Hollywood script I keep writing over and over. Acceptance and warmth has brought me to as much trust in any given moment. When answers are sometimes given off the wall, statements, are well chosen, without the weight of commitment. For me it is a continual mystery which draws me back into the ambiguity of relationships. Poetry and self exploration still are what I want to know. My real assignment is how I shall know myself contained in an ever changing dynamic.
You say hello…without hearing your voice
I laughed as you held me with words unsaid
I speak and venture where I dare not go
Here in the White of you, I dance on paper
My pen wrapped while flowing within
My speech takes flight.
Wings fly to you
Contained at center
Each line disturbs the pallid.
How are we attached to reaction or response?
Questions arise in shining a resting light.
I am given the taste and my thirst is quenched
Nectar found in our place and spread.
Touch me and I will touch you.
Tell me and I will now know.
Breathe Longing!
My Breath is deep and long and at the same time I know it is a breath that wants release. Under this breath of longing my thoughts and age has given me an ache I don’t have a response to. Pain and memory seem to be lodged together and at long last I know I can open myself to be cared for. Understanding what has been held in the secret recesses of my mind. I see whatever I have danced away from in my life. Now I am being expressed in needs to heal my brokenness and discomfort. I am grieving once again and writing about my mother's inability to give me any kind of pleasure for being alive, as I look back this is where my confusion is met with remembered needs. Enmeshed within our bonds and my historical knowledge has brought me an understanding of what happened in my life. My natural instinct is to want to forget and not feel. I know that I must remember in order to repair and appreciate who I am.
