Blog letters loving music poetry prayer reflections WRITING

journal entry, 10-23-20


you give what you can, and today it’s stream of consciousness. it’s easy, no form, structure, edits, expectation or judgment.

initially i was going to use a photo of a journal, then remembered i could go wherever i wanted, so it was here, where i sometime imagine you to be, us together writing free.

days of old are days of new, and the me i was once is still the me you once knew. but not the neighbor, young man from africa with high levels on unnamed concern. he saw me outside, said he hadn’t seen me in a while, then asked if i was busy. i shook my head up and down in affirmation, good he said, stay busy he said before walking away. he’d said it seriously enough that i’d wondered about what he’d witnessed in those not so busy.

blessings abound, but i don’t stop to pray, to feel them or offer thanks. i just move to the next thing, adding prayer to the list of things that seem incomplete. focus is risen yet simultaneously fallen – always there doesn’t seem sufficient time to love in the way i want to love.

a hug and a kiss here and there. a kind word. a smile from across the room they’ll never find replicated, until they have children, and find their image in the same mirror.

where are you, and why won’t you talk to me, i wonder. then just as quickly remind myself that you do, in the way most comfortable for you. i sigh. there is too much work.

i get another call, a man who after ten years remembers me, and explains he wants to plant a seed, and asks if there’s a way to replicate me. i laugh, tell him i’ll have more babies and give them steroids. voila! he laughs, i laugh, but he’s serious – and me, not so much. maybe that’s the problem.

i’ve talked to thirty people in the last twenty-four hours, and i’m slightly sad, because none of them are friends. but rather than stay there, i remember to write, and end the night with gratitude.

so there’s my health. i’m alive, strong enough to continue the carry, and that’s more than many. life continues to find ways to balance itself on shoulders, how strong i must be. and there’s soap, i love the smell of soap, candles, and roses before they take their final rest. even with all the dirtiness in the world, and inside of me, there’s always something to make me clean.

so thanks for reading as i scrub my thoughts. i wish you to dry in the perfume of love, and wash in a basin of peace.

goodnight, love.

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