The days run past so quickly, forgive me. I forget my own name, how can I keep any words at my side? Midsummer madness seems but a dream now, a surreal trip of flower wreaths and sunset swims, of new friends and old ways. Was it really just a few days ago? The days run past so quickly.
And now, a home turned upside down, a life moved into boxes for countless weeks and the summer stretches out ahead of us like pearls on a string, every glimmering jewel an adventure. The sun shone so brightly outside today; busied with packing, I thought wait for me, anxiously. At any moment such blue skies can turn.
How unpredictable, this life. I hold on, as best I can.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
In Sweden
It's never dark when I go to bed, now. It's never dark. There's only that hushed blue blanket spread over everything. Modern glassed-in buildings reflect ever-so slightly a greenish tone, a spot of peach, and you don't know if that's dusk or that's dawn. There is no black.
I think if someone asked me, what my favorite thing was, in this entire life, I think that would be it.
I think if someone asked me, what my favorite thing was, in this entire life, I think that would be it.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Summer Solstice, Revisited
A slight unease crept along my spine today. I forgot it in the downpour, in the return of sunshine. I forgot it in the row of things to do, on the balcony on the South island, in tickets booked. But as I walked home in the soft twilight, the grass so wet but the sky so blue, Stockholm resting, oblivious to the magic, it twinged in my headphones. Today was Summer Solstice.
And how quickly the joy of the longest day of the year is tarnished by its inevitable dark side: tomorrow, the sun will remain below the horizon for just a little longer. Every day gets shorter now. At the cusp of summer in full, I already longed for next spring.
But in my pocket lay a key, to yet another home, a temporary refuge for future days. There are dear, dear souls around me who open their riches, their homes to me when I have none, who take my hand and take me safely to shore, time after time. My cup runneth over.
What's a little darkness, with people like that in one's life?
And how quickly the joy of the longest day of the year is tarnished by its inevitable dark side: tomorrow, the sun will remain below the horizon for just a little longer. Every day gets shorter now. At the cusp of summer in full, I already longed for next spring.
But in my pocket lay a key, to yet another home, a temporary refuge for future days. There are dear, dear souls around me who open their riches, their homes to me when I have none, who take my hand and take me safely to shore, time after time. My cup runneth over.
What's a little darkness, with people like that in one's life?
Saturday, June 18, 2011
and Heaven, Too
I bit my lip today, again, again, I forget and it gets worse. Early in the evening, how happy we were, how long the night ahead. We spoke of our youth, remembered. I had forgotten what a bad friend I was, what a good friend you were. I never deserved all this love, and here we are, adults, I still feel the same.
We reached the roof top bar at the city's darkest hour, and with every drink you bought, dawn spread further over the city. It's not a Manhattan skyline, but it's home now. Somewhere, down there, by that church spire, is my apartment, my bed, at least for another night.
I'm sorry I was distant, I'm sorry my mind disappeared. I saw that pink light spread across the buildings, it got too much, too big, too overwhelming. I'm sorry I forgot to listen, to respond. By the time we parted ways, by the time I walked that long street home, it was so light, I had no darkness in which to hide, I felt so exposed.
My defenses begin to crumble, to give in. I remember, I become aware of where I am. It's not that I don't love you, it's just that my heart is in a million pieces, and only one lies here. Place your bets. Accept your losses. Life will still be here for you, in the morning.
We reached the roof top bar at the city's darkest hour, and with every drink you bought, dawn spread further over the city. It's not a Manhattan skyline, but it's home now. Somewhere, down there, by that church spire, is my apartment, my bed, at least for another night.
I'm sorry I was distant, I'm sorry my mind disappeared. I saw that pink light spread across the buildings, it got too much, too big, too overwhelming. I'm sorry I forgot to listen, to respond. By the time we parted ways, by the time I walked that long street home, it was so light, I had no darkness in which to hide, I felt so exposed.
My defenses begin to crumble, to give in. I remember, I become aware of where I am. It's not that I don't love you, it's just that my heart is in a million pieces, and only one lies here. Place your bets. Accept your losses. Life will still be here for you, in the morning.
Friday, June 17, 2011
House Lights
We sat in the kitchen window, leaning out to keep the smoke from blowing straight in. I couldn't count the bottles on the table. I don't know what was said. My mind is a fog and I just try to keep up with conversation.
Last night I dreamed of my old roommate on Morton, of the puppies; they came on a bus and the hellos were shorter than the goodbyes. Gut-wrenching goodbyes and the bus doors closed with me in them. My subconscious opens the door to what has come, at last. I woke up heart-broken.
There are no rats in the Stockholm subway. It's so clean, the air is so cool. I miss them, their companionship. It may sound strange. But I think of it every time I stand on that platform. It's not the big things I miss; the big things remain. But New York, honey, you were nestled into my every pore, every hidden fold, every dusty corner.
I walk these streets prouder now, than I used to. But I am perpetually lost, without you.
Last night I dreamed of my old roommate on Morton, of the puppies; they came on a bus and the hellos were shorter than the goodbyes. Gut-wrenching goodbyes and the bus doors closed with me in them. My subconscious opens the door to what has come, at last. I woke up heart-broken.
There are no rats in the Stockholm subway. It's so clean, the air is so cool. I miss them, their companionship. It may sound strange. But I think of it every time I stand on that platform. It's not the big things I miss; the big things remain. But New York, honey, you were nestled into my every pore, every hidden fold, every dusty corner.
I walk these streets prouder now, than I used to. But I am perpetually lost, without you.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Something Lasting
I take a break, just a few hours, just a few moments to myself and my headphones and I stare into the whitewashed walls that are not mine, that offer me refuge from anything that ever was. Overwhelming waves of words, of thoughts, of feelings wash over me, move me across the shoreline of awareness. Life is long. You were someone long before I knew you. I was someone long before I got here, and so few things are constant.
I admire the dedicated their devotion, the passion that lay in them when their hearts were only beginning to sprout. I envy them and think what the hell are you trying to do?, convince myself it was too late for me to blossom years ago.
When I was seven, I wrote a story. A silly story, it doesn't matter now. I told my father I was going to be a writer. He said yes, I think so. Sometimes we have to lose all we have, to be found.
I admire the dedicated their devotion, the passion that lay in them when their hearts were only beginning to sprout. I envy them and think what the hell are you trying to do?, convince myself it was too late for me to blossom years ago.
When I was seven, I wrote a story. A silly story, it doesn't matter now. I told my father I was going to be a writer. He said yes, I think so. Sometimes we have to lose all we have, to be found.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
