I looked down at her feet next to mine
The city below us
She clung on
As if I were going to fall from atop the skyscraper
But I had already fallen
I had already fallen
She is my net
But she still holds on
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Friday, May 23, 2014
No, I haven’t forgotten that I’ve hurt you.
Just as I haven’t forgotten the time
You slid your hand onto mine in the movie theater once
And how that made me feel
Like electricity surging through me
Like warmth enveloping me
Like coming back home after years in the wilderness
No, I haven’t forgotten that I’ve disappointed you
Just as I haven’t forgotten
The time you looked at me with those eyes
As we hid away in your car in the desert
And how completely lost I was in them
I haven’t forgotten that
I would’ve had those feelings all those past years
And now I’m filled with regret
For letting go of it before I even caught it
For not seeing your love
And I haven’t forgotten how you saved me from my anger that night
You embraced me as the music filled our bodies
And your eyes shone brighter than the moon
I haven’t forgotten my failure to love you
My failure to be whole with you
For fear of losing you again
For fear of wanting you more
Now I want to forget
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Last night I was reunited with friends I have not seen in a very long time.
It was a strange encounter, peppered with awkward conversations and moments of hilarity that brought back memories of an innocent time.
What struck me most though, is when a couple of those friends still assumed that I was in the same job I was almost 14 years ago! To me it was shocking, laughable almost, to think of, let alone comprehend.
I was so taken aback I didn’t know whether to take the question seriously or laugh it off.
Then I began to think, they were in the same jobs all this time, doing the same thing, going to the same places, seeing the same people… so that is the norm for them. It’s only fair for them to expect me to be where they had left me.
But since that job they were referring to, the one I decide to leave and go off to do my own thing. I have do so much. I’ve lived. I’ve traveled. Gone to places around the world. Lived abroad. Made friends. Lost friends. Discovered new places. Met hundreds of strangers from all walks of life. Worked a host of other jobs in a host of other fields.
And in all of that, they were static. Motionless. In the same position.
I couldn’t explain that to them, wouldn’t know where to have begun. To explain what I do, what I’ve been doing. They wouldn’t relate to it. They seem like they are from a foreign planet to me. Not strangers, but foreign.
But then I also though, well, they have things I don’t. They’ve settled down, married, they all have children. Homes to build, mouths to feed, jobs to keep. Is that what I ran away from? Is that what I want now?
Part of me was jealous because I couldn’t relate to what they were talking about most of the time. As they discusses seemingly grown up things, I remained silent and fiddled with my phone.
Am I still a lost and confused teenager trying to figure out my place in the world?
Would I have given up all of what I’ve experienced and seen over the past 14 years for it? My instant gut reaction is no, not ever.
But, as much as I try to fight it, part of me, a little deep corner in me, would have.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
I’m leaning againt a pole, surrounded by a sea of beautiful people, listening to a haunting song by a man with a beard.
A woman with ginger hair is next to me, a large camera hugs her small waist.
I listen to the bearded man and his voice is piercing and booming and at that moment something crashes over me.
A sense of ultimate sadness and fulfillment.
A sense that I’m where I’m supposed to be even though I really don’t want to.
And tears stream down my face and I keep saying sorry to no one in particular.
Everybody is lost in the music.
The woman who I’ve only met twice before leans to me and we hold each other like estranged lovers reunited after a decade of being apart.
Like brothers reconciling.
Like friends forgiving each other.
Like finding that one sliver of hope and holding onto it with the life that is left in you.
In that moment I was broken and in that moment I was healing.
I brought all of these people together yet here I was standing by myself and feeling completely alone.
But the ginger-woman is still holding on to me and she tells me not to cry.
All I needed was the embrace.
That moment made me look back at what I had achieved and how far I’ve come. Sometimes it feels like I’ve come very far, others it seems that I am still standing still.
Have I ever done enough?
Have I even done the right things?
I’ve published books and I’ve traveled the world and I’ve started a grassroots arts movement and I’ve won awards and I’ve organized festivals and I’ve been selected for residencies and I’ve loved and lost and rose and fell and rose and fell again.
Am I still falling?
Or am I still in the process of rising?
Maybe I’m just floating…