Faith
a poem
I’d like to believe that it happens, the colliding hip-hop jamming jitterbug juicing of two souls, at last. I’d like to believe in those two words, at last. What I mean is that I’d like to believe in the tick-tock round and round of you and me through lifetimes of so much so meant to be on this day at this hour, forever. But look at Chekov, all those just-a-minute-ago near misses, fumbled forgotten words that never land, doors that never open, or open too late, or too soon, I wonder, where do they go, those close calls? Backstage to the green room to wait for a second chance, play solitaire, run lines, smoke, and sweep the untasted kisses under the couch? Go ahead, laugh, it happened to me. The milk had soured, it rained, I caught a cab with a hatbox full of headshots and an orange suitcase, just in time I missed the train, he asked me, I said…yes, and then, well, that story. But you, you are the scent I walk through every night in the dark, on the way. The universe is expanding- near misses happen all the time, planets glide by orbit get lost, disappear, almost, not quite, maybe Tuesday, As real as the back of your knee the arch of your foot the hollow of your throat, colliding somewhere else in the galaxy of another mouth.
Beautiful! and moving my heart as usual.
This poem makes me sad - for all the lost and missed moments.
And this poem affirms a weird grace in non-attachement, in a wider-view, as if it (your poem) has taken me back to my original vantage point from some expanded state in the cosmos. . . a place from which I can look at all the ifs and if nots with equanimous un-judgement. Not half empty. Nor half full. Just: Glass and Water. Thank you for this. (Now I gotta go write my own poem: Glass and Water. So thanks for being a muse, too.) xo