There are scribbles of addresses
interspersed with poetry
It's all a part of a single epic --
the soul trying to find a place to be
and the body trying to find a place to land.
They support one another with
complimentary metaphor
Trying to find a new place to live
Trying to find a new way to live.
The way isn't metaphorical
or metaphysical.
It is rooted
in the practicality of needing shelter.
I could draw lines like:
As I wrap up my fragile belongings
so, too, do I package my grief.
It'd be all too easy.
I wish it were as easy
as packing and unpacking boxes.
It isn't.
I'm looking for a home,
a good fit,
modern conveniences.
But I have no idea what sort of life
the apartment will contain.
What will it consist of?
What does the soul use to pay the
body back in rent?
Mother, I think of you
and I see the gardens of a mother's mother's mother,
dusty roads of Spain
cobblestones of Italy
I can see your golden hair in the sun of it all
and in the water of the river
a young girl dips a pail
not knowing what her womb will bear
And an ocean parts the two of you
And a deeper ocean parts me from you
A bird flew from her fingertips
a little sparrow
a little dream
a little daughter
Mother, I dream of you
and I see the joined hands of our recent separation
dusty road of Dallas
concrete of a modern city
I can see your golden hair upon the pillow beneath it all
and in the water of a tear
your young girl dips her pail
who knows what her womb will bear
And an ocean parts the two of you
A deeper ocean keeps me from you
A bird flew from your fingertips
a little sparrow
a little dream
a little daughter
I gathered the waters of the Gesthamene
to wash your feet
I was your Magdelene
And there's nothing I wouldn't do
There's nothing I wouldn't do for you
I followed you to the desert
I brushed away the pebbles with my hair
to move the stones away from your small feet
I was your Magdelene
And there's nothing I wouldn't do
There's nothing I wouldn't do for you
When your mouth was dry
I put a wet cloth to your lips...
When you spent your thirtieth day in the wilderness
I was there...
And there's nothing I wouldn't do
There's nothing I wouldn't do for you
And when they rolled the stone over you,
when they said you were gone and there wasn't anything that I could do,
Bare-souled I walked among your children and all the love you left behind
Like Magdelene I cried
There's nothing I wouldn't do
There's nothing I wouldn't do for you
I knew one day that I was going to lose you.
I didn't count on it today.
I wondered about it everytime I left you --
would I be able to handle it?
I didn't know. I didn't count on this...
When I saw you in the room,
it was so sterile,
You were so still.
Even then, with everything I knew,
Even though I counted on a struggle.
I didn't count on this.
I didn't count on this when they told me.
When I was on the phone, hearing your passing.
I counted on a lot of things in life, mom.
But I never counted on that.
Recipe: Bonjour du jour
4 parts studio
1 part toy
1 part vodka
2 parts kahlua
2 parts cream