Spring sings me out of my skin and I am a sunchild searching for something to breathe
We should live exceedingly and rarely as the lilac opens as the curled leaves tumble inside of themselves chlorophyll hungry and thirsty for wind.
Someday God will hold you 4 Hands, 3 packs of cigarettes, 9 blind eyes. Someday God will hold you hot sun flash and warm bubble dress bow. Didn’t you know it was there? Didn’t you know the trees are still growing/the bark is my new flesh/crawling ants and termites – they burrow, but so does love. So does the wind.
It’s strange and confusing and bewildering – the strange journeys our lives take. You don’t have to feel a victim to your own story. And you don’t have to feel resentful of your own story…it’s a strange unfolding; a brilliant wilderness; a strange bravery that keeps us all dancing down the path. Let us move past simple judgments of stories into the wider unfolding of greater stories rooted in places beyond sight, stories still at bay, stories still unfolding, stories still curled in buds. Let us honor the grace of rebirth; the power of life to keep transforming; the willingness to change. Here’s to divorce, and a new spring waiting for the sun.
I have been largely quiet about my journey with divorce – but now I’ll be clear – you always have agency, you always have strength, you always have choices.
Love is a temple, still. After the rain, inside the rain/being the water/hungering in the puddles/seeping in the sleepless fervor. Love is a prayer, still, to the chlorophyll hurrying towards you. Hurrying towards you; this day, this wilderness unparalleled and courageous. Hurrying towards you – a season, a whimper, a fresh-faced bark hieroglyph. Read it, read it – this opening curled outwards.