transmuting transportation

bus passes
passing for
gris gris
around our necks.

constantly traveling,
but do we know
our companions?

cameras
masquerading as
watchful eyes
while our ancestors
lie listless
in their loving.

we have
forgotten to call
their names
even as they shout ours.

gone are conquering roots and
strong hands;
magnetized plastic mantras
guide us to
our destinations.

our ears must attune
to something other than
train announcements.

maybe i should
shake a shekere and
see who comes
running off the platforms
easing from the bus stops
to listen.

drawing down the moon

easing into understanding and settling into sensations brought on by nascent superpowers...

this thing

{soundtrack}

i want
to love
again

so wide,
deep,
and massive that
i flow through the streets
not as a woman,
but as a wave.

P.S.

{addendum to the letter}

it's been well over a year, and in the midst of all the other learning and growing i've been doing, my heart's nagging for more has resurfaced.

i am getting closer and closer to fully calling you, drawing you to me. soon, i'll be singing your name to breezes and ocean waves, looking for visits in my dreams.

this spring, i began growing plants. the process has shown me that i need a love like a seed; a partnership between forces of nature, sprouted and nurtured in love, trust and acceptance.

after making due with men tangled up in obligations, i've also realized i need someone who mirrors my freedom, a man able to exert comparable energy in the creation and maintenance of our love.

i know i've hesitated to ask for that in the past, but i think i've earned the right to it now.  

i am sassafrass rehabilitated, growing into my indigo self.

i hope you don't mind the moon falling from my mouth.

in loving anticipation,

o.

lament letter

there is nothing like the feeling of being separated from you. nothing.

it begins with mental images. then slowly, deliberately, the sensation moves into my heart, where it causes a very specific ache.

the dull throb of a cut with just a bit of dirt rubbed in.

and while i ache, the memories come...

i recently spent the better part of a day feeling like my face was buried in your chest--you know that spot my forehead touches if i'm hugging you with no shoes on? there. i was right there. your arms lingered on my waist, resting on my hips.

there is no rhyme or reason to these flashbacks. they simply visit, merciless, immune to repeated choruses of "we're not speaking anymore".

we're not speaking
any
more...
again.

so i'm left here, alone. trying to scribble and type the ache away, praying for dreams and asking them not to actually come...because i'll only miss you more if i see you there.

i can't help wanting to see you.

i know. this is messy. it's been messy between us for a long time.

what i know:

1. we are mirror images of each other, reflecting negative and positive polarities depending on varied situations and life stages.

2. we will always love each other.

3. we will seek each other out.

some days the knowing is enough.

the days i write / cry / scream / sulk are the days it isn't.

i miss you. so much.