Sentient

I suppose it’s a bit like locking the door – then twisting the handle three or six times, just to check it’s binding. You know what you’ve done, but that doesn’t mean you feel it. You need something beyond the knowing of it. Something to click in the deepest part.

The ancient part.

I knew all along you were wrong for me.

It just took me this long to feel it.

GO
Image by Joanne Piechota

 

Left behind

Gone now. An empty room I travel through, seeing what used to be there, the ghost tables and photographs, the thread chairs disappearing. What to decorate, what to add to this emptiness? But first the walking, barefoot, the reaching and touching of things that used to be here. Feeling the fade, feeling the ending, the going away as something active, present.

Drawing our names in the dust, tracing the sadness with my fingertips. Only webs and dangling threads left now, all the finished, unfinished remains.

In this room. This small room, this small house we made, this small life we lived in small moments with big, deep breaths. Empty now. Gone.

What to do with all this space? You should know I’ve found someone to fill it up, to reach into corners, open the blinds. Someone to dance me across this bare, dusty floor. But they’re not you. You should know.

He’s not you.

I once said there’s a part of me that only you-

It wasn’t only you I left behind.

 

 

All the things she did

Wrong place, wrong time. Don’t go there. Don’t do that. Skirt’s too short, street’s too dark. How many lovers have you had? Fresh meat. Store’s open. Men will be- Why couldn’t you- Keep your legs- What did you- In my day ladies were didn’t wouldn’t couldn’t.

Stack up the bodies. Stack up the limbs and hearts and dreams and thoughts and things she’ll never do. Because of all the things she didn’t do.

Or all the things she did. And everything she her we are.

~ Alice, What We Have Left

AliceNYC

You don’t let go

You don’t.

The accumulation, the little gatherings. You open your arms wider to them. You hold one more, and close.

You don’t.

Fingers and slipping. Everything that falls through – you never knew how. Always scooping up the love at your feet. Until it is back again, and overflowing.

You don’t let go.

You let.

You let everything stay.

Everything stays.

You remember she said there is always room – it just expands. And you are a chasm now. Wide, wide open, and reaching.

You remember.

She said.

You don’t let go.

(This heart. It holds every thing)

cropped-bodyrememberjan142.jpg

And here I am again. Forgetting. Or remembering – differently. Something softer, something sweeter always pushing through …