sea glass

she's still there.

she will surface again. someday.

surfacing stains

decide.

decide with me,

C

dear morning, i don't know where to begin.

what happens when you take the time to address the day,

address yourself and your immediate emotions and intentions,

before beginning anything else.

minus brewing coffee.

today, I have begun an experiment of letters.

a new form of discovery and seeking

peace connection and clarity.

we will see what happens.

a little insight to what is on, in or around my mind

when I first begin the day.

the thoughts are as foreign to me

and they may be to you.

but this is an experiment.

and so be it...

if this is "alive", how much more extravagant is truly living?

kitty fur.

if there is one thing that can make you feel better
when you feel like
your skin is crawling
your mind is racing
your heart is pounding
your hands can't remain still
and your stomach is screaming.
it's fur. sweet, precious kitty fur.

because unlike feelings and emotions.
kitty fur, never changes
and it never stops feeling
warm, soft, nurturing, cuddly.
it's always the same
and the heart under the fur always loves you
always, always, always.
no fights, no hurt feelings,
no distance, no pressure.
that fur just downright loves you dammit.
and you know…
sometimes we all just need unexplainable & ever-present love,
no matter how independent or satisfied we claim to be.

so this was the face that brightened my day.

my sweet fur:

okay, so my love is hundreds of miles away.

but i'll take what I can get,

even just a photo text (dictated by Dad)

to say happy monday

I miss my kitty fur.

Is it weird to say their presence just makes

the painful recovery days a bit more tolerable?

Not at all… Because I know you all know exactly what I mean.

and thats all I have to say about that,

C

give back your heart to itself

i really should read poetry more often.
or better yet, write it.
chills follow.


Love After Love
by: David Walcott


The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. 
Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you 

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror. 
Sit. Feast on your life. 

once again.

I cannot respond with words.

tears maybe,

C

let it heal

a wise instructor read the following poem in class

this weekend at the nyc yoga journal conference.

this needs no preface. just soak. i still am.

Let it Heal By Ruth Forman

Listen to the song and let is tell you how

be quiet be quiet be still

let the angels put their hands on where it hurts and

smooth be quiet be still

ask for prayers around you and bathe in song

be quiet be quiet be still

sit in children's laughter twice a day

be quiet be quiet be still

leave your thoughts for another time

wrap yourself in daylight

knit yourself a friend tighter than you imagined

let good people close to you

move away from those that suck from you

be safe be quiet be still

if you have no hands

write

if you have no feet

walk

if you have no voice 

sing

and a chorus will carry you

if you have no eyes

see 

if you have no arms

hug

be thankful be quiet be still

and the pouring come upon you like holy water

and the healing a new plant

break the ground

emerge clean and willing

sorry and thankful

new and quiet

rejoice

like children at kickball

wise like grandmother's on the stoop

ready to live

and whole

ready

and

whole.

wrap yourself in daylight,

C