love takes your shape

February 11th, 2018 § 0 comments § permalink

 


 

tell me how to love you best

with words that feel softest on your body

and pivot your heart godward

 

tell me how to love you best

at sunrise, to the sound of you coming

 

tell me how to love you best

when the world has weathered you

when a slammed door

sets you running from a buried memory

when hope becomes ash on your tongue

 

tell me how to love you best

and tell me how it changes

 

tell me how to love you best

when every day is deadly

 

tell me how to love you best

and tell me how to feed you

 

tell me how to love you best

and tell me how it changes

 

tell me, so i can show you

that love is water

and you are its ocean


 

Waterfalls: Here’s To Not Chasing Them

January 10th, 2016 § 0 comments § permalink

 

There is a girl. She evokes.

The usual bridges you cross to a heart—read her Charles Wright, show her the moon on a clear night—she’s not interested.

Here’s what you know.
You find her attractive. She is sharp. A generous smile. A big softie.
She isn’t afraid to show you attention. Her soul is her comfort is her skin.

Your heart pounds out of fear. In your hand you hold a tiny shred of romantic possibility. To keep it, to grow it, you must manage, stretch, thin, bulge. You could palm her the fisheye lens of you. You might be able to make. it. work. And to what end? You’ve threaded with dishonesty before. It dissolves in stitches, evidenced by scars. You would recover, of course. But with more of the same.

So you talk. You are frank. There is a little something else mixed in. She agrees. Here’s where, historically, you would drag that something out. To stretch it so it blankets all other thoughts and feelings. A thin membrane, ultimately too thin for the sharp points. Here’s where you would chase the winning and find a thousand little failures.

Together, individually, you decide to let it ride. What happens if you let it ride? You don’t know.

There is a relief in leaving it alone. Relief that you have not, once again, hooked yourself to the tenuous. Your heart batter slows,

 

for this is grace.

 

And then the seeing. Seeing where stumbling by the lamplight has led, a new bridge (not one still swinging from your last crossing), a friendship just begun. Here’s to radical nourishment, to true ambition, to the bare-naked intimacy of friendship. You could have sold yourself short, so so short. Let’s see what happens when you don’t.