1)
And the times that we count on
are mounting, and the minutes we plan for
are quick.
And the days that we hoped for are fleeting,
but the good memories we can build
never fade.
And I find myself, here in the doorway,
looking outwards at the sunrise,
while the days behind me have mounted,
the days ahead can be vague.
It’s hard to see what’s coming.
but wait –
The dawn is happening,
right now.
This is brilliant and bright,
like a colorful or wonderful symphony in the sky.
The colors of dawn are in tune with the horizon
and the hour is quiet, the moment is early,
and the ideas in my head are spinning,
like some indefinite pendulum,
that goes back and forth to which I –
Well, I will have the right to keep my time now.
The rest of this life is on me.
I’ve earned the right to say this.
(Haven’t you?)
2)
It’s a strange thing, a cold day in summer,
and the grayness of clouds
are all thick above the ocean; whereas
the beaches are typically flooded with bodies
at this time of year,
but not now.
Now, all is empty
but not sad
and more telling than anything else.
The typical crowds are not around;
not without the benefit of the sun,
or should I say not without the benefit
of anything at all
or without the desirable scene
of being bathed in the sunlight—and yes,
I think this is the reason
why we call people our “fair weather friends.”
And here’s the proof,
which is something as beautiful
as the here and now, or the beach before the rain,
and somehow, no one cares to notice
the symphony of a light drizzle
or the rain as it drops from the sky, say,
approximately one mile from the shore.
This isn’t enough to draw attention . . .
People seem to forget
that beauty is unlimited, even in uglier times
and more, people seem to lose their interest
when beauty fades
or the novelty of something goes numb.
But not me.
I know the value of beauty
and I want to know more about this.
I don’t want to become fair-weathered.
No.
This is not the way I want to spend my time
or waste my friendships.
This is not how I want to spend days
or waste my life—either alone in times of need
or celebrated when the crest of my waves
are all high.
No, I want to be seen for me.
And not just some of me.
I want to be seen for all of me
and still be beautiful
(to you).
It is clear to me
how people use each other
to fill their spots or close the gaps
or fulfil their needs as a means
to place people in usable categories.
But not me,
I don’t want to be this way.
This is why I am still here
and why I never gave up
(at least, not really).
My love and my care for you
is not dependent upon some glorified stature
or because the rivers of your life are all clear.
Besides . . .
even the crystal lakes
are not free from being muddied,
and even the stones we throw
to skip across the surface of the water
are free to bounce in directions unknown.
I think this is called taking a chance,
which I am certainly willing to do.
Just so you know.
3)
These flaws seem so unappealing,
and the worries I have about them are sick.
It is simple enough to see beauty
but hard for me to see this within.
But please. . .
Stop.
I know that I struggle
however, and if I may,
I do not see you this way,
flawed, I mean.
I do not look at you or touch you
or find you at all unappealing.
Actually, it’s quite the opposite.
I think of the softness of your skin,
and I think about the gesture of your smile;
and then I think about the way you move
or how you are, or how you touch me, or move close
and yet,
you fail to see the perfection of this
and curiously, or similarly to me;
you fail to see “you’re enough.”
Sometimes, I wish the winter wasn’t cold.
But it is.
Sometimes, I wish the pain didn’t hurt.
But it does,
And sometimes the past is as good as it gets
but beware—
the future ahead of us
is untold.
This means that we can make this happen
in whichever way we choose
and I know that yesterday was a bitch,
and quite possibly, so was the day before it.
But today is different
and the sun is out, the winds are warm,
and with my flaws on the table
and faults and all, and moreover;
to the matter at hand, the facts before us are this:
I am still here.
I am still breathing, and I am still standing,
and yes, my heart is still beating
and some days it’s pounding
because time is moving as moments escape us
and the bottom line is
I don’t want to waste another second
let alone another year
and it be July
and here I am,
exactly where I was
last year.
I don’t want to let another year go by,
wishing, or giving in
to a confused assumption
of massed insecurity,
or letting myself go,
so-to-speak
because I never had the balls
to stop being a coward
and start being me.
4)
I suppose the greatest sin
is worse than original sin when, in fact,
the greatest sin we commit
is allowing the world to pass by,
and all we do is watch or wish,
and sit back and bitch but
do nothing to make our life happen.
Remember the song?
“I’m waiting for my real life to begin.”
me too . . .
I suppose now is a good time
to tell you my intentions.
And now is an even better time
for me to declare myself, before declaring you,
or before I try to declare anything else
for that matter
because sooner or later the rain will fall,
and my flaws will come to light.
No, I’m not perfect,
and no, I’m not right.
But all that I am is all that I have,
and if I could, I would cup the world
in the palm of my hands, scars and all,
and if I could, I would hand this to you
and say, “take this, please
because this is everything I have,”
but to me,
having everything
is the same as having nothing,
if I don’t have you to share this with.
It’s like the beach without the spirit.
It’s like the sands across the shore
without the bodies to line it.
This is all that I have, as humble and meek as it is,
or modest, or small and imperfect
this is my everything, and yes,
this is me—every day,
coming here, to offer myself to you,
. . . . if you’ll still have me, that is.
5)
This is to a little girl in you
who I know is still alive,
or so alive, in fact . . .
There is so much out there, unknown and mysterious
scary and promising, brilliant and beautiful
and challenging and complicated
but yes, the world is really simple at best.
There are a thousand potholes and pitfalls
and there are countless traps and things to trip over.
And yes, I’d safe off the world, if I could
and I’d wrap all the edges,
so nothing would cut you.
But we both know,
there’s not enough tape
to hold up the padding,
and accidents teach us to be safe.
But wait –
Look up now . . .
Do you see the sky?
This belongs to the world
but there’s more
and here’s
something that perhaps you never knew;
the sky belongs to the world
but as far as I’m concerned,
the world belongs to you.
Now, this is to the heart of you . . .
Maybe I’m wrong
or maybe the past
has done some incurable things
which, I get
but the way that we walk
can lead us away
and the directions we choose
can show us a sign,
perhaps more than we bargained for
or knew that was “life” together
is still possible.
All I want
is to walk with you
now, more than ever
and perhaps the next time
when you see the shoreline,
say, of a place from your youth
or a place that we know of together
or when you experience a memory –
maybe, if it’s not too much to ask,
maybe I can be part of this too,
mounting, like the days behind us
and building
like the days ahead.
6)
I don’t mean to be scared
but I am (sometimes)
But the morning is promising
and like the sacrament
today is sacred to me.
The sunrise was beautiful
like you . . .
or like the softness of your face
or like the way your eyes make me feel
which is wholesome and youthful
or beaming with love.
And yes, this morning was one of those days
where my heart was full
and my eyes welled with a tear.
Today is sacred
like the sacrament
or a sign of hope
or like a message divinity
or a sign of some divine intervention
to heal the sickness of broken-hearted thoughts
and to be the host of today,
to grant me a view of some new horizon
and to allow me the hope
that all can be healed
because despite what I said,
I know in my heart,
that love conquer all.
Good morning, Sunday.
I’ve been waiting for a sunrise like this one
and somehow,
you knew it all along and hence, I assume
that’s why you’re still here too
because despite all my faults
or perhaps yours as well
I know . . .
that you love me too.
The Written Addiction 