Friday, June 19, 2020

I did not know I was thirsty
until I saw the water
I didn't know how much my heart needed you
until I saw your eyes
and joined my voice with yours
I did not know the hunger in my soul
until I felt again
the completeness of connecting to others



I danced with my mother tonight

I danced with my mother tonight
And she watched me dance.


There will be a last time we dance 
Together
Smiling, laughing  
Or not 
looking at each other.


A last time she dances
Doing that thing she does with her mouth
Wiggling her hips, strutting 
Clapping here and there to the music
Her legs that no longer fully straighten or fully bend
still stoat, still move close to in time with the beat.


There will be a last time I dance for her 
Have her adoring mother eyes gaze upon me as if I were a gift of wonder 
she is beholding. 


There will be a last time 
I dance
A last time I turn 
And spin
A last time I hear music
And let all the rage and frustrations 
All the years of disappointment come shattering out 
I last time I roll and stretch on the sweet wood of the studio floor
And wrap my myself around the rhythm of the crushing beauty and pain
and then feel my arms 
My arms 
turn into feathers and wings
and float up 

and touch heaven

Here is my prescription for the vast majority of us: You need to be in a relatively safe place outside with others