“I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.” – Joan Didion
Turkeys fly into the trees,
wobbling on the branches
as they settle into the night.
The nor’easter winds
keep me up — sounds of childhood
going through the carwash
rush through my mind
as I hear water being slammed
at the windows, except nothing
is being cleaned.
A never-ending carwash
continues throughout
the night, getting louder
just as I almost
drift into sleep.
Writing is my anchor
in the sand.
What keeps me afloat
when the ocean of my mind
become choppy.
What tethers me
to the planet
when I'm floating
up in space.
The grounding space,
the safe place.
Giving me clarity
in these trying times.
Through the lines,
I write with messy
scribbles. I return
home to me,
again,
and again,
and again.
...
I wander off
into the haze
inside my brain
when horomones change
and everything balances
on the brink of insanity.
I listen to the waves,
feeling the air
leave my lungs.
When I can't see
in front of me,
I sit and wait,
wait for myself
to return.
The placement of the sails
in the frame
causes me to stop
in my tracks.
How perfect, I think.
The window overlooking
the ocean mirrors
the one facing inland,
through both, I see
possibility.
For Grandpa Boat
I am that person
who will take photos of
flowers in shopping store
parking lots
before going inside
and missing the sun.
Appreciation for the
beauty around me,
especially when
it's finite, will never
not be crucial in
my mind.
For it reflects what
I want to see in
the reality we live in,
finding the extraditionary
exceptions in
an ordinary day.
I breathe in
salt air.
I let go of worry
as I feel the warmth
of the sun on my bare skin.
I am happy, gaining back
what I lost in the winter
months, not seeing or feeling
the day to its fullest.
I follow the sun,
I walk along the ocean.
Happy to be
just to be.
I embrace quiet
like a long-lost friend.
Nowhere to go,
nowhere to be,
in my lonesome
I find serenity.
Moments that steal my breath
from my lungs, pull me out
of my racing thoughts,
stop the looping altogether,
are few and far between.
Mother nature’s beauty
often is the one thing
that can snap me into now.
These mental caverns
I crawl into without thinking
when things shift quickly
resemble the beauty with playing
the same scene of the same movie.
I dream of these summer days,
where I catch a sunset unexpectedly,
become enraptured with the shift
from day to night, these transitions
into the darkness are expected,
just like the different mentalities
within me, and yet the awareness of
moving from one state in time to
the next is something I stop
to notice. I am in awe of the duality
of the day the same way I am with
the different dualities of human beings.
These days, I listen to Pink Floyd
and drown out the thoughts
trying to infiltrate my good vibes.
I embrace the sun and take photos of
what makes me happy — spring flowers,
seagulls flying over the ocean,
daydreamy clouds that let me
pass the time in peace.
I think of my grandmother,
how this place was her whole life.
She was the reason why I loved
visiting and now I drive down
the same roads she did long before
I was born, I miss her dearly.
I think of my friend who
who I play phone tag
with no connection made lately,
that’s okay, we’ll catch up
the way we usually do.
The old radio starts the song,
the passage of time with people
we long to find along the way
as they fade off into
the back of our memories.
The days where I am pulled
toward the outdoors,
I follow the steps
in the sand where
the water had been
hours before.
The mirrored reflection
on the land
leaves me awestruck
every time.
How incredible
these joys are,
appreciating these
momentary beauties
as often as I can.
A reminder of
all the possibilities
to come.
