I set fire to the only pristine forest left untouched in my desert landscape. I must burn.
Forgive me for my ashes.
Forgive the skeleton remains, remnants from the flame. I knew no other way.
I knew no other way.
Even the ghosts of cities resplendent must bury themselves.
Bury my shame.
Bury the shroud of my wreckage in the memorial of ancient seas
please forgive me
I cannot rise without your love for me
Am I coming home now?
filtered light and the hum of fans
crickets creating cacophony
back then, I hungered for the world
My ribs protruding, mouth searching
deserts and cathedrals, mountains and forests
broken, crooked cobblestone
lovers and friends
and at the end of the day
my belly is filled with the hum of the crickets
the whir of the fan
and the constellations
for which we never knew
My eyes have already told you one thousand times
what my tongue lacks courage to say
though my heart grows courage to stay
The echo on an empty room
makes me want to smoke cigarettes
and prop my feet up on cardboard boxes
Makes me want to give away everything
so that all which
what it is
and not what I thought it could be
I’m on my way home now. I’ve filled my pockets with scraps and shreds of questions and half answered requests. I’m wearing my uncertainty like a badge across my chest. One thing is sure, I’m less sure than when I started. One thing is sure, I’ve come back to where I parted.
I’ve parted ways with knowing. I’ve toasted to my doubt. I’ve no clue where I’m going or what it is that I’m about.
Yet in this space of uncertainty lacking all assurance. I’ve grown.
Like all wild things, I’ve grown despite the harsh sun and the unforgiving winds. Indeed, in the space where certainty resides, no wild thing can live.
Self numbing.Every moment filled with the harsh light of a computer screen, the gentle buzzing of electronics to let you know that somewhere else life is happening. But don’t slow down. Or rest. Or take a walk outside. Here, have another drink. Don’t wonder, even for a moment, or sit idly. Keep working. And don’t worry, you can record your favorite shows so you don’t have to miss a thing.
But what if I’m missing everything? What if I’ve filled every dusty corner of this life with emails and dates and dinner parties and assignments and somehow I can’t shake this feeling that I am missing something fundamental. That somehow the more I explored the world the less I understood where I belonged in it. That the more people that I met, the less I felt I knew anyone.
Perhaps I am learning to sit with the questions. To traverse the edges of uncertainty. Perhaps this uncomfortable gnawing I feel is the realization that this is. the most. I will ever understand. and I want to drown it out. with so much noise and light that I can’t distinguish the static of the screen from the roaring of waves.
Textbooks filled with carbon and hydrogen, momentary connections made permanent in print. I stared, transfixed to think that such simple bonds held the world together.
Now to come back to the place where I began…
To realize I had written one thousand verbs in pursuit of ghosts. Those days when the perfume of nostalgia was constantly ripe in the recesses of my mind. When I sang accolades of my soft heart. That open, pulsating entity I feared so greatly. But the feeling is ebbing, receding and what is left? What is left. is. chiseled.
For no man sails back towards the setting sun.