Irene to Curdie

when you are far away from anything familiar
and your eyes are weary with searching,
when your feet are tired of walking the mile
and your heart heavy from the weight of the space between
you and home

go to the place in your heart where you have kept me
and let those golden moments spill out-
it will light your way through rivers and valleys
like an invisible thread
that you can feel me holding onto on the other end.

Living in the Alternate Ending

Lately my fingers have been missing something
that has never been there-
an odd sensations of feeling like a band should be holding them
but instead empty space rings round,
the same way that there is suddenly unfilled room
when I notice another woman of my age
settling her children in to the pew beside her.

It’s the sense that I have forgotten
to bring something with me,
or that I have stepped into some alternate universe
where I made a wrong decision years back that changed my life,
now a shell of what if could have been,
the real life somewhere else
and running on without me.

Unattached 2

you let me go and I could feel myself falling from your hand,
fluttering and floating in the wind.
your grasp was full of freedom when I slipped out
and let the currents direct my path.
you were unattached.

and it took a while to find
that I could try to learn how to fly
instead of being buffeted and blown about.
and now that my wings are stronger and the open air calls my name,
I don’t mind that you couldn’t keep me in held tight.

but with every updraft and thermal
that speeds me on to new sights,
I’m still looking for a place to land and perch my feet,
hoping to find your arm held out.

The Likeness of (a Capoeirista)

Whom do you look like when you love
Whom did you watch and try to adopt their movements,
Bending and turning, twisting and sliding,
To evade or face, capture and hold
Or block and bring down
Mother or father, friend or stranger,
We all take on the likeness of what we make our own,
Displaying or giving away our best mentor,
Or at least who we thought was worthy of imitation

Unattached

You let me go and I could feel myself falling from your hand,

fluttering and floating in the wind.

Your grasp was full of freedom when I slipped out

and let the currents direct my path.

You were unattached.

 

 

But I’m not sure that you were free.

Detached and separated, segmented

when I met you next-

Your eyes wouldn’t show anything of you.

You hid yourself from me,

 

and I wondered if you had become detached from

a part of yourself too.

 

Now I see hands that have forgotten how to hold

and a heart that can’t let love out

and live out

what’s held dear inside of you.

 

My friend, I’m sorry if letting go of me

robbed you of the chance to know how to love

freely.