A future wise woman (baby)

There are few things in life that have made me so profoundly happy for no reason.

When other people try to put words to it, I scoff, I roll my eyes, because the words are so inaccurate to what they are really trying to say that it seems like an insult, the impossibility of it is so profound that they shouldn't even try, its demeaning.

And then I am holding you, and something tugs in the most joyful and irritating way. I want to be swallowed up, and also I want to run. The slightest twitch and I forget everything about myself. The slightest movement and my whole world seems completely unimportant. You inhale and exhale too quickly, and roll your eyes, or stare at the light, and this can't be right, because I could so easily panic.
What if something happened?

And then a minute later, I am back to the conversation, you are a living weight in my arms, and as long as I am being gentle enough, and I am always gentle enough, then it seems like maybe you could sleep, and maybe I could too.

And then again you kick, or yawn, and I am lost with you in my arms, wondering how to get myself back. It makes sense why no one can pay attention to anything else, how people forget themselves mid-sentence, how people would do anything and everything. How incomplete our family has been.

on a fathers day or birth

I just finished Sula, by Toni Morrison.
I really liked both the story and the language.
I really liked the longing, and the connection, and the lies we tell ourselves.

I am missing people, and feeling lonely, wishing someone knew me enough to try to unravel, and not for their own need, though, of course I'd want to also.

Sometimes you make mistakes, say the wrong things, mean things differently than they come across, bend yourself sideways to make messy fits neater, come out all tangled and wonder why you bothered, fleeting glimpses of smiles and tears, remind you of the curled warm shapes, the way a piece can slide in place, even without completing the puzzle.

I am in-between things, and being in-between things means a lot of time to contemplate what unnatural fits feel like, and also why they call so strongly, whether friends, or work, or someone else's purpose flung on you... direction, momentum, feeling collected, and I don't just mean internally -feeling welcomed...

sun and dust

I was waiting for you to reach out, and for that reaching to mean something more. 
Though I could not presume my arms were sturdy enough to hold.
My stance, grounded enough to share the weight.
But sometimes still, I wait.

As if to see, the color underneath, once the murky water clears, I had one time a glimpse, which, I thought might mean I understood.

But simplicity was never caught, 
and
sometimes I hope she'll never be. 

And the light and shadows' glistening,
by distance made a softened storm, ever shifting, 
resistant, ripe and rare, 
for at least this little while, 
shall hold my curiosity,

if not something more.