BEING WITHOUT YOU

sorrounded
by strident voices,
I step sideways into the void,
subtracting my soul from the congregation,
folding self into origamic proportions.
I sit, stand, pose,
on my own head, afterwards,
a bird poised to fly, a leaf settling
on the warmest ground,
groping for the stillness
of self.
I found you instead,
a tear away from happy,
open to the storm,
taking all of my lassitude away;
taking me home, taking me home,
taking me home.

- from The Moth
17 Oct '08



Thank you for this wonderful poem. I hope you don't mind that I posted it.

A plant must have felt the same way, after days of not getting any water, parched and scorched, to finally feel the glorious stream coat its leaves, its stem, its roots... to lose itself in delicious abandon, to glisten shiny and rejuvinated.

How could an encounter so plain and uncomplicated, almost timid even, make everything that is spot on in my days perfect, like the dash of salt and pepper that a salad needed to make it just right? I will be honest. I do have my preoccupations. My life is not unencumbered with worries and responsibilities. Like you, there are others that I put before me... other troubles, other fates that I feebly try to turn around. Like you, I am burdened too. I struggle just so my sunsets would leave a trail of hues for the next sunrise to pick up on.

But as I go through the motions, you would often be in the crux of my thoughts...

I find myself wondering what the hour is in your part of the continent, and with it the activities you engage in. Are you on your way to work, or on your way home as you wrap up your day? Are you still asleep or getting ready for another day in the grind? Are you having a relaxing day with those near and dear or are you yet again torn away from them as duty calls?

I wonder at such things as the scent you wear, if you ever do or the crease in your pants. Your favorite tie? Your favorite color? How do you take your coffee, or do you even? Do you like spaghetti, for instance? Do you twirl the noodles properly around your fork, or do you playfully slurp it and lick your tongue at the sauce that coats your lips? How do you sign your name? I wonder at these things. There is so much to know and all I know is that I have to be content in not knowing.

But I think sometimes not knowing is good too. It leaves room for wonder. And then I have this 'you' in my mind, one that will always be with me. One that will always be near.

It will never let me run thirsty.

LIAR

You didn't tell me you'll be here for always.

What you said was you'll be here, if not always, while you live. Remember?

I kinda' like that better.

:D