Posts for June 26, 2022 (page 4)

My Vows_Non-Sequential_v1

I don’t want to learn any more. I already know how beautiful
             your insides are. Rare and full of promise like

the beginning of snowfall or crying. The beginning of spiral.
             First life, then art.

Then nouns. Entities. Three-dimensional objects.
             How are you on arugula? Radish tops?

And then there was a curveball.
             The beginning of mercy. Forgiveness. Regret. Fear. Panic.

First tears, then years. The decision: firm, hesitant, momentum.
             Not for softness. But then, we seek softness. In crisis.

I have, at least, learned that.

And then there was organic certification. Because we’d gotten
             so far away from natural that we had to proclaim

the authenticity of realness. I swear to you I haven’t added chemicals,
             hate, hormones, hidden agendas.

I need a new softer rhythm for your hunger.
             I need a way inside that cuts clean,

past the syncopation of all these tender gestures,
             like drugs, that numb me.

My Vows_Non-Sequential_v2

I promise I’ll remember everything.

There will always be a thread of you –
             against the deepening color of me. The faded wheat stalk

of your laugh against the throbbing sloppy magenta of my heart.
             I’ll stick it in a little, just pierce the surface enough

for the wheat to stand up on its own,
             waving in a mini breeze of emotion alongside

the thumping whale beat of my gorgeous heart.

We’ll go around together giggling. I’ll show you jokes I’ve started
             and projects I’m in the “then” stages of,

adding to with circumstance. You’ll bristle and dry and
             give shaded looks of beiged yellow and tanned gold.

I’ll eye you carefully to make sure the ends haven’t split.
             If they have, I’ll get some Gorilla Glue and reinforce

your presence in my life. Because even just one thin thread of you
             is more than enough to keep me.

My Vows_Non-Sequential_v3

Keep me.
Keep me.
The sea can’t eat me  

here.          

I collect you like a newcomer
Some small items fill my pockets

Artistic disarray spreads across my desk
I ponder your origins

I sense you carry ancient memories
I faint from my fascination with you

At night the sky is punched with holes
I see you shining from the other side

I listen to you in my sleep
dictating which path to take

I seek signs of you through the day
and sing at the sight of you

I speak to you from my window
and share my paintings with you

You send more light on summer days
I thank you by getting more lost in you

We walk away together when I can
from dawn to dusk to dawn again

I float through you like a moving cloud
hanging on the wisp of a breeze

In that moment’s errand I suspend
all knowing and surrender to discovery

I dare not leave for fear of never returning
to this whole melting from wonder

He keeps buying more because he can’t find 

what he already has in the boxes he can’t 

sort through in order to find what he needs.

Unable to distinguish between

want, need, useless and more, 

he purchases more containers.

The long road ahead no longer visible (much less 

the hallway he takes one step and then the next),

he heeds commercials’ demand he purchase more. 

He swears off buying more…

he swears off saving more…

he swears off collecting more…. 

what gets me
what touches me in the deepest place
is the woman who is currently alone
confused, confounded, unsure
maybe she’s pregnant, maybe not
but she’s hurting, sad, perhaps grieving a loss
a relationship soured, a man has taken her offer of love
and squelched it
or mocked it, or simply ignored it
maybe he loves her back, maybe not
and no, no one is perfect
but again, she’s hurt and that’s my concern
maybe a young girl
tween, teen, way too young to have to deal with life altering decisions
maybe alone, maybe with a friend or two
but unequipped for forever and that’s normal, right?
none of us are truly equipped for forever but it’s announced
proclaimed for us
handed down from on high
I have so many questions for God
why our bodies work this way
why my emotions have ridden the roller coaster the entirety
people say I should have done more
well, maybe not me specifically but I fit the demographic
didn’t do enough and I beg to differ because, hey, I have
but arguing gets us nowhere and I’m not one to line up in the street
oh, I have
but it didn’t get me or any of us very far
some say I’m silly for thinking certain men are the way I think they are
they haven’t lived my story
some say I’m too quiet, too nice, too this and that
but again, I’m here for the girl
for the woman whose life is upended
abandoned because I’ve been there
the girl who didn’t realize how quickly
then it’s too late and a case of wrong place wrong time
wrong person though he seemed…
maybe none of the dictators have ever found themselves in that room
though, does it matter?
who’s been where with whom
it comes down to caring for someone who is struggling
and caring for the person who is simply living her life, the way she deems fit
despite my opinions, philosophies, or beliefs
which is hard, God knows it’s the hardest
but loving people is the only way
one more time, loving people is
the only way and I wish we could love girls and women
as much as we love our versions of morality

A season amongst wolves,

Early fog burned off
Grace of sunlight
Fills the newborn day

Dressed in summer’s best
Traveling the sidewalk
Head toward church 

Father holds son’s hand
Mother pushing pram
Carrying our hope

I took the lamp assumed an incredible ‘lightness of being’ as I transferred
my human burdens to Spirit
Leaving zones of everyday occupations & relationships
I embarked upon one of my darkest walks
The deep abyss whence my power of action emanates fueled a serious decision
whether or not to remove Mom’s feeding tube and bring her home
or have the hospital provide euthanasia

As I moved further and further away from conventional certainities and superficial illumination
I picked up courage’s armor and brought Mom home
Each step of the descent a new person was disclosed within me and within Mom
Resounding words echoed louder ‘With God all things are possible . . .’
I was no longer sure and yet these words became

my resolve
my comfort
my salve

When I had to stop because the path faded beneath my steps
I clung to Spirit’s companionship and support
even as I found a bottomless abyss at my feet
Truth picked me up
And even when Mom stopped breathing and
arising from I know not where
Ancestors who had walked this same path before her
filled the room and took her with them . . .

I was left in the current which I dare now to call my life
As a daughter, a sister, Trustee and Fiduciary

A flag on an empty hill

based on Osaka’s self-titled Netflix documentary, with the italicized quotes taken directly from various interviews 

A chartreuse and white sphere sings through air,

W cracked into Vs, racket shot to ground 

with a bowed head, hushed victory, deafening apology: only twenty. 

Smile, enunciate every word,

answer sans tears, stitch together sanguine honesty:

anything is okay if everything should be okay. 

A win is a fluke, wins are practice.

Play until the pressure dissipates,

until the happiness appears.

Riots rage outside,

civil unrest reigns over civilization,

an Asian black girl takes a stand.

A spark sings through veins,

cracked bones mending, endings ending

with a sudden urgency, fervent ferocity, new normalcy: twenty-three.

Not the defeat of doubt,

nor the ceasefire of suffering,

but a few seconds to breathe, a window to dream. 

Olympics to have optimized for,

more to make happen.

But now, I don’t care what anyone has to say. 

We do this, it’s in my blood.

I wanted to skip press conferences at Roland Garros to exercise self-care and preservation of my mental health. 

I’ve never seen it at night,
but I waited to remain alone
and kissed the lock of the lighthouse.
“A lock,” you’d say.
“A lighthouse,” I’d add.
And we will all be right.

Author: Marin Bodakov
Translator: Katerina Stoykova