Sing

Have you been trained,
she asked me, as we talked,
to sing? Have you
ever thought
of being like me, and
following my path?
Of singing holy songs
of praise and worship?
Of leading our people in song?
Of being the person they turn to
in times of need and trouble
to help heal their wounds?
Not her words, but mine,
because that’s what she meant.
What she said was,
I can hear it in your voice,
when all I’d done was speak.
What she said was,
You’d be very good.

Alone

A random post from the past that’s perfect for today.

Cytherean Dreams

The great irony
of my life
is my fear of
being alone, that
I will never have
a true partner
will never be able
to be honest and
have someone else
share my life.
And yet
I work, every day
every hour
every time my head swims
at being alone,
so I can hear
myself
and know my
own thoughts
my feelings
while the echoes of him
pierce my heart
cloud my head.
I laughed when I saw it.
To be alone now
I have to work at it.
And I have no fear
because I’ve found
and I will never be
was never at all
alone.

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Quickness

I heard it as I spoke
the quickness in my voice
the excitement as I
described the people
and thoughts and patterns
of that place that life
and I could tell I was
so much more excited
about that than
everything.
So. Maybe I should
go there to live, instead?
If this is rote
and draining and tiring
and that is fun and new
and enlightening
should I take that
first step
and follow the quickness
in my words and heart?

Blessings

When I felt empty
and cold, pining for
a lost, impossible love,
I turned here, and
found my voice.
Doesn’t matter whether
anyone is listening
to me speak. What matters
is that I can, that
I have the ability
to create and express
my pain, which
turns it, somehow,
into joy. And then
I can take joy
in my girls, my work,
the coincidences throughout
the day that count
as miracles, the hugs
from friends, from those
just happy to see me
treating me like a gift.
Blessings through the day
and I’m full by nightfall.

Lost

I know the moment
when all was lost.
It wasn’t when I returned
on the second day
and you saw me
from across, yes, the
crowded room
and surprised and pleased
dropped the book in your hands.

It wasn’t on the beach
by the ocean
when I, feeling secure
and safe, answered you
without thinking, that yes,
it was our kids
playing in the surf.
It wasn’t even as the week
dragged on, and no apology
came from you, though
I had already sent mine
to you, to make peace
between us, I hoped.

It was when you tried
to be, for me, who you
are not, and
stumbled, and I
corrected you
humbling you
in that crowded room.
It was when my fury
at your betrayal
choked my voice when
you handed me
your peace offering
and I couldn’t even
thank you
or look, without glaring.

That was when
the fragile bridge
crumbled into dust
leaving me stranded
on one side of an
insurmountable chasm.
But at least one
good thing came
from being lost.
I had no choice
but to start
shouting my truth
into the wilderness
hoping that someday,
you might hear.
And come find me.