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Longing to Climb
Longing to Climb
Tender, full, closed eyes
swaying like meadows—I lay down
I can’t open my heart’s door
and love is becoming
like heaps of wretched dishes
by the overflowing sink
too much to comprehend
in too little time
I long to drift away downriver
on a plastic barrel.
I long for a tree branch—
I long to hold the tiniest
ladybug forever and name it
and make pets of elusive spiders
I long to live alone with the wild berry
I long to strand myself
on an island and peel
the stars’ messages like tree bark
I long to make my ink pen a wand
darkness crumples like tissue paper
as yesterday’s balloons reach the floor
and somebody’s dying far away
I wander in empty ecstasy
black and white
ink lines, letters, writing
I sew my roots in between
the poppy and the dandelion
my words, ripe and black as figs
as fluid as leaves on water
I write everything I’m not—
pink and purple plum sunsets, birthday clouds
all images formed by eyes
from formless stars
I breathe at the foot of the evergreen
longing to climb
and love is becoming rare,
and I am becoming everything I don’t know
as I lay down in despair
longing flows on in me—
then again, love is becoming
suddenly, not so hard to find
ordinary as breath
and everything I do forever
sleep, eat, drink water
moon cycles, winter and summer.
Love is becoming
like my name—ordinary
and not hard to say
but I am contained
in every fire
in love’s silent river.
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Favorite Quote:
"You will be found" -Dear Evan Hansen
Lots of Love,
Bumble Bee :]