09292011

i live life

inside the blur

of perfect geometry

09272011

it’s been too long a time

since we walked these woods together

you said

and i thought

more than long and longer than time

and the trees reached out for us

remembering our presence

from that other time

back before time

pleading with us

do it once again

sleep in our shade

and wink at the sky

through the brown-green

dapple of our leaves

so we slept

my head on your stomach

your fingers in my hair

the smell of life and earth and heaven

kissing our skin so tenderly

and you said

look at the color of the sky

is it real, or is it touched by magic?

and i said

it’s real

and you said

when was the last time we did this?

and i said

last spring

and

why don’t we do this more often?

you said

and i thought

because if we did

the magic would flee

09262011

another unsent letter…

Dear O.,

I’ve something to confess. I caught myself reading something I shouldn’t have been reading. I caught myself reading your journal. I came into your classroom to cover for you, just for a few moments. I came in to watch your students while you ran down the hall. And my fingers couldn’t help but touch the open pages sitting on your desk, so white and naked, colored by the outpour of your thoughts.

And I read something that made me stop. I read this: This is my dream job. And this one sentence, among all others, was written with such flair! It was written with pride, and joy, and fullness of spirit. And my first thought was: I wish I could make that statement and mean it. But my second thought was: I soon will.

Following this was a sense of urgency, as if I had to do something immediately, right now. Something to remedy that first feeling—an antidote to the dissatisfaction. And that was when it registered in my head that, scary as it may be, and time-consuming as it may be, I have already made the right decision to pursue my true desire, so that I might also have my dream job.

I am leaving this place in a few days. I will be gone from this hall… these halls… forever. I will leave these halls for other halls, where someone will be standing at the door to welcome me, rather than the other way around. And believe me, I will never look back!

But… before I go, I just have to say… I apologize for desecrating your privacy. But, this is something you must understand. This desecration of your thoughts was an impetus for mine. Not that that was ever a good enough reason for me to read what was so profoundly yours. But then, you left the open pages, like a blossoming rose, right beneath my fingertips. And what could my fingers do but touch, and brush, and caress? Do you know what I mean? You probably never will. And you will probably never forgive me. But I will thank you forever. Because your joy was my momentary misery, before it turned itself upon its head and reminded me of my joy, as well.

Yours,

N.

09242011

outside the gates

that wall off this garden, you.

but, look—

i’ve still got my smile.

this is the smile

i once thought you bestowed.

and

now,

when i glimpse

my own reflection,

i recognize

its grace.