advising my younger me

what would you whisper

to your younger you?

secrets of success?

footprints to follow?

lights at tunnel’s end?

 

I would cast silence

putting my hand to her heart

knowing she will follow the drummer’s notes,

doing her best in each moment

to float away with each beat.

placing my head to her head

foreheads tender in touch,

eyes at equal level.

for she is no better than I

and I, no better than she.

I honor her choices.

I believe in her ways.

she is why

I am I

and never would I change I.

this older me

is the eyes I hoped to see

as each younger choice was made

and each beat of the drummer

set my feet marching

in my direction.

time cuts the ribbons

I thought I lost myself

in the annals of time.

cut of the velvet ribbons

holding me to this throbbing heart,

nourishing in beat.

I believed, once unbound,

would wither and die.

soft thick bows and

thin delicate threads 

strangling me.

tightly woven in macramé knots 

instead of loosely hanging lyons lace

in dainty wrapping around me.

each stroke of the clock’s hands

severing in snip of each string.

my breath released in the cut

and as the corset came undone

I was free.

retreat

unsettled in attention

I wish to slip on

my chameleon suit

match up with my surroundings

hold my breath to be unseen

allow the passer-byers

never a notice

 

to dissolve in effervescence

within the molecules

of big blue skies

sparkling and bubbling

floating into the fade

letting moments of the day

march forward in the dial

 

until end of day tolls

I condense from wet air

onto tired skin in salt rings

return from retreat of me

removal of my lizard skin

when I return home

to you

broken reflections

my reflection

in the break

cut down the center

revealing a part

I had not seen

until the mirror

shattered

and I scattered

across

ground glistening in moonlight

glittering in sunrise

hoping to catch your eye

instead

caught myself 

staring at my pieces

as new and knowing

I could create

true essence of courage

from those shards of crackled glass 

ripen

as age sets in to my bones

I feel an ease of settling

a resting in their familiarity

they sturdy my foundation

ground me in goodness

of who I am

and the new found love

I have for me

is quite intoxicating

and addicting

I yearn to know me

even more

deeper

than I have ever dug

or allowed my shovel

to sink

in the fear I’d exhume bones

of skeletons

hanging in dark closets

but now

now I hope

I can unearth these bones

ones I find such assurance

and ripening balance

as I enter harvest

life line

when I gather my things

wrapped into a bindle,

stick resting on broad shoulder,

I set out aimlessly.

without a firm destination.

eyes focused with starlight

seeing rainbow bridges

over potholes

and golden ladders

out of pits.

this journey

is not about the omega.

it is the train tracks

we are meant to balance.

barefoot on the straight away rails.

tip toeing along the curves.

all the while

remembering

our line is only so long and

knowing

this ride is

fated serendipity.

 

in the escape of myself, I found myself

my nomadic ways

wished for a secluded hut

to wander to

smelling of wet earth

and dried palm fronds.

the make-shift shelter

my get away from myself.

precious time alone with myself

to escape myself.

 

I set my heart straight

pointed towards east

where the sun would rise

and asked for directions.

she tried to leave.

circling the yurt –

once, twice, thrice

in succession –

tangling the tie of us,

but we are bound

by that silver chain.

I may allow her slack,

drapping links dragging on dirt

in wander

when I will return to her.

I will never leave her

lonely.

my freedom only comes

when we merge as one.

metal leashes left coiled

and she soars.

 

I, as her believer.

she, as my guide.

 

we travel stars.