"What I hold dear about my memories are still true and will be as long as I want them to be. Friends will always come and go and landscapes will always change."
-Matt JL Thomson
I want to feel the electricity
of cold meets warm
in a thunder clap
I light on fire.
This one day,sometime in early June last year, I took off my Steve Madden sandals, the ones that went really well with my favourite dress of all time, and I put them in a pile with hundreds of other shoes because at the end of the day, training my muscles of non attachment is more important to me than what those sandals represented in my life. Sacrifice is a part of life, may as well practice it on the little unimportant things in preparation for the big ones.
I have not missed them.
I hold on to you like a toddler at the corner
of a coffee table. I want to take a
step away but I’m afraid
I’ll fall and there won’t be anything for me
on the other side of the living room.
I hold on to you to keep from growing up.
I want to live in that land 2 years ago where
I didn’t know where I was going and
I wanted someone else’s indecisiveness
to shield my own.
You were a boy and the girl in me wants
to wrap my arms around your neck
and push my face into your pimply, stubble free chin
and kiss and kiss and kiss because
I’m afraid of growing up because
what kind of woman will I be
if I finally allow myself to become her?
This is the day that The Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.
This world is calling me into its ugly cement landscape and it’s miles and miles of pavement.
It calls me from the smoggy air, and tree roots bursting out of the seams of sidewalk, themselves raised and cracked from earthquakes I wasn’t here to feel.
I am called to this world of natural disasters, of homeless men sleeping in the same spot every night as I walk to my temporary home.
I am called to the poetry of the street lights, the patience of the bus rides, the spanish man in white clothing singing opera at 35 on the corner. Isn’t that the guy we saw on the bus? It is.
I am called to the beach, where Jersey teaches rookies how to ride the rings. Grab, pull, twist your hips, and fly. Such a beautiful man, “do you think he knows how pleasing he is to the eye?” Julian asks, “I don’t think he cares” I answer.
I am called to run on this sand, skirt billowing in the wind, the waves have caught my ankles, now my calves, now my knees, I might as well give them all of me.
I am called to bike, dodging cars, and cracks and potholes, alongside a woman who’s story inspires me and makes me marvel at the resiliency and determination of the human spirit.
I am called to this sweat . This sweat that drips from the skin of strangers. In rooms that are not my own, that are tall and daunting, and my soft voice has trouble reaching. I am called to be better. I am called to step into the discomfort, the change, the lack of certainty, lack of a bookshelf, of my Iranian rug, my mugs, my bed. My sweet, sweet bed.
I am called to say good-bye to it all, to open into the dark arms of a city begging for angels.
I’m going to get a dog and
name him Courage.
That way I can start each day
with Courage by my side.
I’ll wake up to Courage,
there at the end of my bed.
I’ll get up and walk with Courage.
Even if the sun has yet to rise,
or if the sun has long ago set,
if a sound in the bushes startles me,
I’ll have Courage.
When I’m alone and tired,
unsure of what to do,
I’ll play with Courage,
and he will lead me
on adventures I could never imagine alone.