HeartStrung

Photo by Sergey Zolkin on Unsplash We sit together sometimes on weekdays, sound off, only our faces showing  in little boxes on a computer screen. You type. I type.  I nod my head to the music  filling my ears. Sometimes I watch you  when my writing mind is stuck, taking in the way you tilt your head, or hunch your back. Sometimes, I note the details  of the room that surrounds you, like the stack of books behind you, or the way you've decorated your wall, a s if these details  may come in handy someday. But today is one of the last times we'll meet this way. The time for goodbye has come. And I already miss this, all our faces  framed in their little squares while, for one hour, we illuminate our writing.

I am staring at a pile of fabric scraps, some of which are already embellished with hand stitching. These scraps are destined to become products for my shop. I know exactly what they will be in the end but I do not know exactly what the end product will look like yet. There are decisions to be made about color combinations and where and how to stitch, among other things. And I am currently plagued by indecision. I actually have already completed one. I finished it about a month ago when I couldn’t get this product idea out of my head. All my dreams were about this product. Many of my waking thoughts were about this product. I was a little obsessed. And it turned out beautifully, more beautiful than I had anticipated.

Look what I’ve been missing! A whole day awaits after  a good night’s rest. 

  ink glides on paper recording words from my heart; emptied of all thought

Colored lights strung up; the scent of pine indoors. It must be Christmas

worry, worrying  doesn’t do a thing for me except for grey hairs

  too full of feelings  rising, growing, spilling over.  learning to let go.

I shared my fear with a milkweed seed I know not where the wind will lead,  but  I release my grip and set fear free

i love you                      because it is natural   to love           those you know                     so completely

the wind               she speaks to me                                        she calls me home                                                                  she sets me free Photo by Saad Chaudhry on Unsplash

I want  to stop and watch  the leaves fall from  the  trees dancing toward  the ground and floating on a breeze

when i wander     may i know, i create my own magic     wherever i go 11-2021

Listen. I am dancing with you holding you close we twist through the night I am your keeper I am your fire I am your light.                   I am.

Photo by Maksym Kaharlytskyi on Unsplash the thoughts that fill my mind get me lost every time i listen because               she is incessant               because               ignoring her is impossible her voice leads into a labyrinth          where every turn is toward self-destruction          turn right: find fear          turn left: insecurity          straight: unending grief          behind: self-hate the way out is blocked. i stumble through the passages          toward every dead-end          my face tear-stained          her voice a brutal attack          against my core. this path creates confusion this one unmakes me    ...

the wheel spins 'round my fate dependent on where it stops but it just keeps spinning Photo by Brian Suh on Unsplash

how to practice living magic:           move through the world           one small step at a time           gently, with presence          

  dried up dreams shriveled and transformed pardoned. dust blown away by the wind

she’ll be gone in four days’ time. four days. for days upon days her room will remain empty the bed permanently made and I will find comfort in the lingering smell of her      one of only a few things      she left behind

water gently licks the shoreline rocks as it pulls away the white caps growl and crash back onto shore

Photo by Calvin Hanson on Unsplash nestled in the corner cushion cold feet tucked under my legs  head resting on a pillow awake yet dreaming i am wild, free to be whole, in love with me no longer in need of the old words: (selfish . . . too much . . . liar . . . not enough . . .) here:  I   Am   Whole still reality calls me home but as i un-dream i un-become