In Favor of Bravery

Bravery felt like…

agony, for the longest time.

like a jostling of waves in a water-balloon-of-a-heart,

holding a shipwreck, exploding, contained only by the pale pink latex of its walls.

It felt like spiraling into a bad dream you choose,

on a pillow case overstuffed with doubt,

and waking up to find like a cat,

it was sitting there — on your face — every morning,

for a year.

It felt like running to the window with stubborn persistence,

to find the sun –

perpetually dressed, in a black cloak.

“It was chic,” he said. “It was magic,”

he laughed.

It felt like opening the door to find that you’re not much starter than he,

you left the house in a scratchy thick sweater,

made of butter,

in July.

It honestly felt like…

everyone in the “world” was doing the “normal” thing,

except you.

I(t) felt like, giving up, like coming up short.

It was an argument. A fight.

It felt like this, in fact — until it didn’t.

When I realized “normal” was black and white,

and I wanted to go chase the rainbow.

And then. Ha. And then…

it felt like the breaking of dawn.

Like the fullest breath I’ve ever dared to take, again and again.

Like walking to the ocean. Like taking a hike.

And then… I felt like doing it again.

the Bohemian by the sea

does it matter that you can feel the warmth of the sunlight on your shoulders, the salty sea breeze in your hair, and at the same time, see the storm clouds up ahead?

does it matter that the sea holds immense sadness in its depths, and yet at the same time reflects the joy of the sun in the glinting rhythm of waves?

do these things matter? do they have a place in business? in finance? amongst skyscrapers? alongside ships that carry cargo from one place to the next?

can someone say that it is okay to honor the new and mourn the lost all in the same moment? all in the same day. can someone shout this from the rooftops and whisper it in the shadows? instead of this. this silence. this, unspoken name. this covering up with words of new.

can someone tell the masses, “it is okay to not be okay on this day.” or even the next.

it is o.k.

it is okay.

it is ok to not live in the binary. in the ‘either or’ but to let things co-exist, mash, intertwine. mix.

binary is not how it always is anyways.

it’s not how it ever was.

Take a walk on the wild side

1. Little girl, stroller, chubby cheeks, bunny hood.

2. Black cloth, slow shadow, head bowed, face dark, skinny ankles, dirt crusts.

3. Sun-lit trees, out-stretched branches, lime green leaves.

3. Bird cages, captured song, oppression-or-freedom, modernity-or-the-ancients.

4. Footbridge, light, sounded steps, rainbow reflections, faded-honey warm glow.

5. Train.

 

Tonight we had a watercolor sky.

It was sweetened by the cotton candy brushes that glazed her stratosphere. Wet kisses of light navy, baby lavender, soft denim, and infant elephant greys.

Was last night the last night of summer? Tall dark shadows flirting with golden girls on the lush waves of green. Drunken syrup and milky gold. Bubbly. Dripping. Warm – thick like honey – leaving fingerprints like drops of dew on blades of translucent cellulose.

Nature’s warm breath hushing goodbyes to the trees’ natural chimes.

Tomorrow, there will be snow, they say.