man on a bus, child on the stairs

i didnt feel well this morning, i woke up with the swollen eyes and throbbing head of a woman whos gone to bed wearing her grief like a blanket. i shuffled to the bus, feeling less than stable and more than nauseated, i sat staring north, waiting for the 16 bus to take me to work. it arrived in much less time than i was prepared to wait and as i stepped onto the bus and paid my fare, i noticed a man, clean-cut, with baggage, sitting in the front seats. he was mumbling to himself, and talking to no one and everyone. in this situation i know the drill, look out the window, look distracted, sad, tired, bored, disinterested, etc, anything that will make me part of my surroundings, i make myself disappear this way often. as the bus driver continued on his route, he took a sharp turn, though much less sharp than ive experienced with other bus drivers and so when the man in the front seat slid with a sandpaper thump to the floor, i was a little surprised. then came the marked change in his attitude, he suddenly became angry, irrational and belligerent, cursing and swearing at the bus driver. the driver tolerated him for a while longer, and when the man kept grousing and asked to get off at the next stop, he was more than willing to oblige. it was a less frequented stop in the middle of a residential neighborhood, the man sat in his seat and slowly gathered his things. when he moved his way to the front of the bus he stopped, cornering the bus driver in his seat and started yelling, swearing and making threats of violence. "ill kick your mother-*&$^# head in if you call anyone, ill knock the glasses off your face you *&$^#-*&$^# punk, is that clear?" this kind of language continued at the stop for about 5 minutes. five minutes of which i sat with my phone open, 911 dialed, just waiting to hit send. i was not in any doubt of the man's intent to physically harm the bus driver, and i was actually surprised first, and then relieved when he left the bus. i got off the bus at my normal spot, and went to cross the street when a man walking next to me asked "hey! where are you going" in a creepy, not friendly way. when i walked through the stone archway of the park i was afraid he would follow me in.
i got to work a little shaken, i greeted parents and children and started to go around and check attendance. one of the teachers told me that nigel would be late and i would need to lead him to the sanctuary of the neighboring church for christmas pageant rehearsal. he arrived soon after with his mother and as i started to lead him down the stairs, he did something unexpected, he took my hand. it was then that i knew there was still hope, there was still nigel, a sensitive 4 1/2 year old child, willing to learn, and able to love.

felted and soft

he is always weeping, at least in my visions. he weeps for joy and pain alike, and his eyes always lacquered with the silver of sea-salt tears. he wrapped me up last night, in the dark cathedral, he held me. with his ineffable everything, he wrapped me up in a long, beautiful, and crimson scarf of the softest combed and felted wool. this is far more than love. this is everything, the whole world and yet none of it, a smile and a frown, a kiss, a sigh, a tree's low swinging branches, intangible, ethereal, and at the same time, sweetly-softly-gently-passionately all mine.

october seventh, dusk

like a lamp lit above, red leaves illuminate the hall casting a blushing shadow on my book's jealous pages. the sky is pink and an eerie yellow. it is full of sallow grey jaundiced clouds, but the trees seem to be aflame with their autumn leaves, a ghostly vibrant fire dripping life into the wind. the gusts of breeze seem to nourish the quivering leaves, shaking them to life from their sweet slumber and kissing each one with its fullness. suddenly a darkness falls, splashing everything with its violence. the leaves' fire dulls to embers and and its warmth is lost in the chill of a fall dusk, but i am cozy, wrapped in a sweater and scarf, warmed by the sweetness of wine and a gregarious fire.

who is this

i have awakened with a song on my tongue and a breath in my lungs to sing it. i have woken to chilly autumn morning. i will lie with my eyes closed, the morning's cold breath on my nose. how content, how sweet, how lovely, i am touched by nature, felt and tested, held. i am inspired, i am not alone, i have mine, and you have mine. my senses are satisfied, my eyes full of light, my hands are cold, my mouth has tasted, my ears keep the sounds of nothing and everything. i can smell you in everything. you. you must smell like everything you ever created, and every beautiful rain and fall leaf rotting hill. the sweet apple scent of love. i do not understand, you are a mystery, and i like you that way. you, my father, brother friend and nature. you have not left me, you have not forgotten me. you have me. how have i forgotten your goodness. how you treat me like your own earth, changing me and giving me what i need.

i havent written in 5 months bear with me.

i am soft, lonely, happy and soft. like a handful of feathers, a polished wooden table soft. i am your mother, your sister, your bestfriend as a kid. i am a lover of, a holder of, a cherisher of. i am the sweetest thing youve tasted, the most savoury, i am. i am what loves you most, what feels your pain, what makes you laugh and what dries your tears. i am what holds you when you feel like your skin wont even do you the favour. i am what kisses your rough knees and pushes you back to the playground. i have looked in the mirror, i am. i am beautiful, i am full, i am free, i am loved, i am. far from where i stood just one year ago, but i am still there. i am loose, my heart is loose, my heart is open and free and full full full. fullest. i can love. i can feel. i can just be. i am what you have allowed me to be. thanks be to god.

faux love

what is it about love that scares people to death? open love that makes people run? we have all loved before without inhibitions or fears, but that was years ago right, before we learned our lessons, before we got hurt by "faux love." love is an interesting thing, and as i grow older i realize how much love i still have for many people, more love than i even did 3, 2 or even 1 year ago. something has changed in me, i am able to see people's potential, where they might have come from, where they hope to go, all of these things, and this ability also makes it so easy to stop judging people, and start loving them. somehow knowing that so-and-so had an alcoholic father makes it easier to love him, or knowing that the girl working at the coffee shop was verbally abused as a kid makes me less likely to call her a bitch or a whore, i know her, and she needs love too, even if she is orange from too much tanning, and wears alot of makeup. i used to think that i could not love everyone fully, and i still acknowledge that i cannot emotionally give 99.8% of people in this world the kind of love and care i have the ability to give, but i can give love to some people. the love i give is maybe more intense than it should be, i like to smother, when i love someone, i let them know with hugs or gifts or words or time spent. im not the best listener but i try. i open my heart to many people, but something about our world twists and skews love into something sexual and dirty when it is really quite innocent.

what i am, what i cant be

i am a breeze, i never settle, i am never able to just settle, settle in the branches of a tree or on the surface of the ocean to feel the waves move beneath me. i will always be a breeze, i might accelerate down a mountain, or pause on on a rooftop to look back and see where ive been, but i will never be able to rest. i long for rest, i long to lie still, i desire more than anything to be able to just stop, drop into the household of some family and lie still between the coolness of plaster walls. instead i frustrate the branches of little bushes, push wee birds out of their nests, upset piles of papers on desks, steal napkins and plastic bags, and snatch balloons from children. i agitate everything i meet, i cannot leave anything else to rest either, everywhere i go i cause trouble, occasionally pleasure but mostly irritation, i am the hair in your face, the leaves scuttling up the road, i am broken branches and displaced families, if only i could rest, or wrap myself around the trunk of a tree. even if i could just lie flat in a field and be content to rustle its grass, but somehow, i am always pushed, pushed to continue, pushed to move where i dont want to go, to do what i dont want to do, to hurt what i dont want, to be where i dont want, and never to have what i do want. i am the breeze, i will never rest.