It’s been a while. Beloved’s father (who signs his emails, now, love, Dad, which somehow makes me feel a little more okay in a very much not-okay world) mentioned recently that I hadn’t said much lately. Sorry about that.
Sometimes there just isn’t much to say. It’s January. Cold and dark and fuck, what are you supposed to do this time of year but sit around and wish the sun would hurry and come back already? Things aren’t bad, inside this little nest I’ve built. I managed to survive my first semester of school after being away for many, many years; the little people are all well and happy and exhibiting the usual symptoms of extreme wonderfulness; I got a new job that I love, it makes me happy, makes me feel like I’m doing some kind of good for once. Love rolls along, as it does, collecting bits of things to remember when it’s late and the house is a little too quiet. Still, though, it’s January, and I can’t escape the chill. Outside my door things happen that I can’t explain, can’t comprehend, can’t bear to think about for more than a few minutes before I feel overwhelmed and afraid. Mid-December brought us news reports of dead children, and in our minds we saw them hiding, saw them cry and it was too much to feel. Someone I’ve known and loved since I was a child had to witness just about the most horrific act imaginable, and is left now to gather the pieces of her life and try somehow to put them back together for herself and what’s left of her family. People I love are hurting, and I’m helpless in the face of all of it. Life, as good as it is in here, is absolutely agonizing sometimes, and my only defense is to isolate myself, to curl up in blankets and to wrap myself in hugs and soak up every giggle, every sweet word, every chance I get to feel something that doesn’t hurt, just for a minute, so I can save it for later, when I need it. I don’t know when I’ll find my voice again, maybe later tonight, maybe not until the world thaws out and I can throw open the doors and force up the ancient, paint-jammed windows and let summer in, but until then, here’s something to tide you over.
There is no title for whatever this is.
this is why
in the middle of all the
i am able to breathe
you made me laugh too hard, mama
you gave me hiccups
and the voices of the little men
still trembly around the edges, not quite accustomed to the
that they’ve gained
rise sweet above the sounds
of breaking blocks and
creeping through the walls
there is the smallest sigh of a touch
fingers brushing skin and as i turn away
i’m held there