if wishes were breaths
I’d be panting your name
hoping the ghost of you
would linger with me
as mornings are toughest
waking to dark
and it’s cold in my heart
til I whisper for you
and it all starts again
with abandon
so much more rattling around
wanting to find a way out
it seems like magic swirling around
sometimes consuming
more than I intended
glimpses escaped over the years
stories to tell
but not until recently
did I give myself leave to speak
now I can’t shut up
veering wildly across platforms
no compass
feeling very gonzo writing with no edits
letting the freak flag unfurl
wondering where I’m headed
today, this moment, I’m questioning why
that’s not a good sign
usually I stop dancing with abandon
and abandon the dance to think
and I’m not tired yet
I want to let go
please fool me
don’t wanna know the science
behind fire breathing
don’t need to know how card tricks work
wanna take levitation and disappearing acts at face value
wanna gasp at the sword swallower
don’t tell me about genetics
wanna believe I’m unique
don’t teach me mathematics
wanna find patterns in nature alone
don’t wanna stop believing in fairies
don’t need to told about hell
wanna see angels in my garden
wanna be fooled please again and again
how we fill time
we’re all just filling time
so many ways, shapes
busyness for no reason
languishing
awaiting answers to questions unasked
ducks lined up neatly
is not the whole story
freedom surrounds, but not really
the popular paths are open
wherever we want to go, within reason
we have all we ask for
in secret prayers long ago
but we find ourselves
bereft and alone
and wishing for less
less to keep track of
less to answer for
and wanting more
more open fields
more open days
too late
I’m running out … when will it be enough?
The days of warm cookies just out of the oven in winter and chasing fireflies in twilight summer seem lost.
The first view of the city’s skyline in morning was enough to cover early heartache.
The Van Gogh I secretly touched in the museum- those raised paints and ridges, FUCK!- they were enough for a whole semester of college.
Staring at clouds and feeling soft grass beneath my feet with my daughter… she’s too busy now.
Staring at the crackling fire sharing stories with my son… he’s off on other adventures now.
Memories of flesh taken quickly in the old shed were enough to get through almost a decade.
Visions of candles on medieval cathedrals, clear waters off the Mediterranean, rocky plains of Iceland all were enough for a short time.
But, I’m running out…
I want to savor each spice on my pizza instead of blindly devouring.
I want to wiggle my toes in sand and feel smoothed by warm winds.
I want to feel cold winter winds on my cheek, warm embraces at night.
I want to hear mysterious moans over moors.
I want to walk in more dark forests, exploring every nook.
I want to abandon fear of words hurting any more.
I want to know it’s not too late for me.
The Word Rummager 