I hear the feeling

That pain and imperfection bring me joy because. 

Level

Hurt and heal.
Repeat.

Validation

And now we step together. Trip and fall. Hold each other’s hand.
Down the stairs and back up again.

Altar

I didn’t intend to build an altar. I don’t worship. But I knew what had to stand in place of that guitar. And I know honouring now, like I did not before. Like a parent, I guide and narrate what is left of me – what grows – now that there is no body with which to commune.

I am a Witch

I asked death to wrap itself around me.
It passed through and I crawled out.

It turns out

The sweater is just a sweater. The coffee shop is a place I have been many times, with many people. And today it is three years but I will not weep for that.

Gleaning

And when the margaritas hit, he performed a one handed push up show, the dog racing around him in delight. We both wove ourselves into the hanging lights, and revelled in each other and the warm, skylit evening.

Show me the money

And to those with their nose in their wallets, I raise my cup high. That kind of discontent is not to be held, nor will it be caught by me. The only blessing to which I assign value is this peace, this beautiful peace that tells me that nothing was lost. All is, as it should be.

Grace

Now, judgement and want are curiously similar. I have something in my hand – something received – and I might witness how it changes me. I remain, both filter and vision.

Judge, Jury and Joy

And its the hearing that has allowed judgement to be revolutionary. It’s only ok, because it was not ok. I watched the jury box fill up, as I was thinking about joy.