Sunrise

"To see ourselves as others see us."

In the deep overcast of a quiet night, I sometimes see the past events of the day shudder past me, almost as real to vision as if the things were happening again, the people’s voices wandering up and down again, the undefined semblance of their bodies walking up and down the front of the room, or perched on chairs in the back, in the same way they had done so that morning, now in less certainty, of course. And I don’t dwell much on the idea that they see me in the same, repeated reality. I have not gone so far as to assume their moments of idleness run on the same tracks; in fact, to perhaps my own loss, I take the opposite for granted. It must be that only a few of us live this double life of watching, apart from simply being, and should this assumption someday be shown wrong, we would suffer – it is an isolated temperament, and we thrive on isolation.

MH // spring 2013

Resurrection...still need to read this.  I love the opening sentences.

| azaleas ∧ moss |

What If

I'll lose the draw in a
what-if statement
(What if these thoughts are true?)
Then fight on, since
your quiet stare is
all we see of you

Two gloomy weeks broke
the light fixtures
(What if you saw their glow?)
I stop, then leave,
dismiss the pain
of trying hard to know

Just when, inexplicably,
footsteps cross
(What if you saw it, too?)
The faintest word
won't go unheard
by me, and much less you

I'll remember long,
long afterwards
(What if you don't forget?)
The strange half-second
dreamlike words
the stopwatch can't reset

So much the worse
So much the best
(What if you somehow know?)
Then stamp it in
your passport book
and I will not forgo

from writing on a
piece of quad paper
What if - what if - what if?
And softly set it
into code and
send it far adrift

MH // spring 2014

Tired and trust

Two scribbles I found in a notebook from my purse.  Looks like from last year.

* * *

I'm tired of putting on
   this necessary shield
(Even though I wanted to
   fight battles
and knew I'd have to, all along)
Why does it feel wrong?
Every word I say
   betrays the right thoughts
   in my head
as something pathetic and strange
The years are young
I still don't bend, or change.

////

I have one week to
reset my head to where my
heart is.  I still think in
terms of variables – possibilities
– extreme cases of inherit-
ance and parenthood.
Nobody knows what I'm
talking about.  Logic has
to be universal, doesn't it?
My logic – what is it?
I make up almost everything.
But Easter is coming – 
Lent is the hardest time of
year. I fall and give up things and
can't get myself up
that is what it's for.
I know He has a reason for the
way I am – now, right now,
trust is as important as it will be
later. I fit into the Plan somehow
– it will work out.

MH // spring 2014

Courage.