4.21.15
I lose myself
I’ve lost myself
again
and the act of looking out of dirty windows to a clearing, temperamental sky
only reminds me that I’m not sure what I’m looking for out there
Yet it gives me some solace
that I’m still eagerly looking outside
for something.
Today that something is you
it is some symbol
that you are still near me
that this day that the two of you were born means not that you are missing
but that you were once here.
Like a broken phone booth telephone I call the same number over and over again
and my father’s voice is never as happy on the day before
or on this day.
He is full of sorrow.
The day he arrived only serves as a reminder that he’s now missing his son
and his father.
I can’t help but feel the sadness again
though I promise myself that these things will get easier
you know-
the more my memory slips
and the more I carry on
but it never has
and I am not certain it ever will.
Numbers are significant
They serve as labels
and they serve as reminders
of something tangible
and something removed.
My biggest mistake continues to be that I am removed
that I am beyond the recent past
and I am continuously surprised at how foolish I am to think I’ve got these sorts of things figured out.
My quiet serves as a reminder that inside I am burning
I am burning for things I do not know
spaces I do not know
that I may never know
and I am dissatisfied with not having a reason
a purpose
a way to justify getting into those spaces
without a trace
without anyone ever knowing I was even there.
Spaces that are bodies
spaces that are minds
and spaces where things that I do not share
are known.
I am a little lost in this translation of my most recent transformation
This woman who feels close to me
who knows me
and who I’ve grown into
is still aloof to my curious groping
Who is this I?
Who is this woman that I experience every single day
who carries my weight
who looks back at me
who rests her worries on my shoulders?
I’d like to tell her that it should be no surprise that any conviction of the heart comes with steep consequences
I’d like to tell her that the surprises that she thrusts us into always take more time then she’s got
or willing to agree to
to sort out.
It is days like this,
weeks like these
that force an opening
that force a reckoning
to any and everyone sitting quietly in the corners
known or unknown
And when I look out the window I recognize
that the clearing sky has turned cloudy and bruised once again
forcing me to go back to the beginning
The beginning that reminds me of you…
