A cakes on a table
Cursive font written in thick script
Flowers are wilted and the lights are dim
I wonder if this is meant to be romantic
My shadow flickers in the candles light
quick blinks of movement
Happy birthday to me
alone in a low candle glow
I don’t know what to wish for
We walk by pasture upon still pasture
of horses grazing, swarms of flies
on their muzzles, a plump of geese
on the lake, one, head tucked beneath
a wing, dozes. Men and their dogs sit on the bank
motionless, watching their bobbers.
A red-headed woodpecker chases a bug
threading the black-painted fence posts.
A hawk drowses on the branch of a dead tree,
tracking us with a slight tilt of its head.
Another is wheeling high in the sky. A third
drinks from a muddy puddle.
A rabbit freezes in place as we pass.
When we cross the bridge to leave,
some twenty birdsongs later, sweaty and tired,
a heron lifts from the pond below us
and glides to the far shore
to roost for the night.
We dreamed of boys on boulders,
soft moss for a mattress,
sunlight dappled like blush on our chins,
but woke to pool cues,
popcorn butter,
and Sting on the stereo —
Bollywood mornings in borrowed pajamas,
your mother’s aloo chat
the closest I’d come
to sacred.
You never broke,
not the way a girl does
when the tether frays and she’s still pretending
the kite string is held.
If you stumbled —
a bad Catholic boyfriend,
Planned Parenthood and stealthy pills,
schnapps after prom —
you regained your footing quickly,
balletic recoveries from teenage dreams,
pirouettes, not pitfalls.
You turned right
into the MCAT score, the white coat, the right husband,
the three girls in silks, ankles ringing like bells,
just what your parents prayed for.
If you don’t call any more
I want you to know, I don’t mind.
But sometimes I picture
your daughters dancing,
and us watching from the kitchen,
just like we used to watch TV —
you cross-legged,
me curled like a question —
and I wonder
if you still remember
the rock,
how green it was,
how quiet and lush,
how pristine we left it,
out of goodness,
out of time,
out of everything but
want.
my therapist says
i need to seek validation within myself
how do i tell her
that if it were up to me
i’d take a nosedive off the closest cliff
that i would cut so deep i’d see stars
until there was never anything to see again
that if it were my decision
i’d be dead
validation isn’t something i have in me
towards myself
it falls among compassion and understanding
things i have an abundance of
for others, but none for
myself
so i ask out
in the universe
to grant me validation
so i can live another day
write another word
take another breath
this shit is too heavy
to do on my own
help lift some burden off my shoulders?
tell me i’m worth it
tell me i have things worth saying
tell me i am okay
The house is full of arms and legs today.
I feel them expanding, taking their space,
I hear them lengthening and grasping –
the sound of ancient doors opening
and bones crackling with excitement
to reach ever world-ward.
In my dreams I am Alice, tiny, watching
as another Alice’s arms burst
through the windows, a head pops
through the roof, her feet plant, the house
rises, and with each step I get carried away
rattling around and bouncing off the walls
crying in my helplessness and wondering
what is next
Pema says we’re suspended
Between dualities
Energy expended
On dreams and casualties
For each pleasure there’s pain
For each loss there’s gain
Counter to fame is shame
The pole of praise is blame
We find that true wisdom
Is knowing we can’t know
The space between atoms
Or the thoughts of fallen snow
A full life in each breath
Inhaling we’re reborn
Exhaling into death
Freedom comes when we scorn
The lie of certainty
We’re absolutely freed
From these dualities
Embracing righteousness
Doing what’s right despite
The expectations of those
Including ourselves
locked in a pattern,
needing resolution.
To be is all we need to be
Each moment, an eternal discovery
ghost words lurk
around my head
watching my pen inking
drops of soul
……across …. a book
khaibit
inspired by Normandi Ellis’s book, Heiroglyphic Words of Power.
