Thursday, December 1, 2011


curled upon the couch. remembering the womb. tucked inside myself. a knot of pain. sits within my chest.

watching the sky. the liquid motions of cloud against grey-blue. the sun trying desperately to be seen. like a too small child among adults. clinging to coat tails. wishing for height. longing to join the laughter. i exhale an empty breath. and with it, i send the sun my understanding. your day will come. perhaps tomorrow. do not stop shining. do not stop singing. your voice is muffled but never silenced.

i watch the drops fall from the pregnant sky. heavy laden and straining against it's boundaries. eventually the seams will burst. and a cacophony of weather will beat down upon us. forcing us indoors. into cars. into each others arms. into each others orbits. into each others eyes.

my book lies unread. my tears remain unshed. i've turned my back to the inner world. i'm just going to sit here. and look out.

perhaps the suns song will reach me today.

if not now. then some other day.

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