photo credit: echoforsbergJimmy 74
It’s an acoustic-folk kind of time as poetic verses carry the melody of my life. The chorus changes as fragmented thoughts are reflected from my faithful mirrors – my far-away friends, my close-by family – and my world is buoyed by a wish to heal, a healing of the big variety. I wear my pain like the lining of my favorite red jacket; coveted, I hold it close to my heart and I call out to a now blue sky and sing to myself. It’s all on the other side of the world, my dream and my hope, weighted down by a long habit of doubt now long in tooth and rooting me deep inside a tormented tangle. I reach outside for anything close to a salvation: acupuncture, take multi-vitamins, bake a catfish, learn origami, drink more water, swallow happy pills, quit carbs, eat more carbs, read a book about extra-terrestrial lifeforms, visit therapist, let go of fear, embrace fear, build a collection of something, perfect a popcorn-ball recipe, be with people, enjoy “it”now, moisturize, believe patience is not synonymous with failure, kindly refrain from walking around the cabin until your captain has turned off the seat-belt lights.
In another world, I would stroll down a soft street and count the loose change in my pocket reconciling the pittance with the rich dreams I bought years ago. I would come up even and the less-than bits of paper would be filed away under finished with and the power of a perfect now would find a noble perch, proudly sitting without consent for questioning. The soft street would give away to a broad sky and I would fly high and deep into a starlit expanse and find footing in a deeply treed canyon. I would bury bones in the supple night dirt and whisper incantations for forgiveness, ever-lasting blueberries and the gift of music.
In this world, I negotiate the gap between what I dream to be and what is; and maybe there is some reconciliation that needs to occur in order to live and let go. For now, I follow the direction of my feet and count my steps towards a new world….
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