Have nothing in your houses

that you do not know to be useful,

or believe to be beautiful.

-William Morris

I'm sometimes amazed at the helium left in my soul.

The will to fight, to live, to pick myself back up, to go forward.

The light is coming on,

allowing my spirit to breathe, my mind to clear,

in safety, in hope, in pure air.

I experienced a moment, when out of the corner of my eye seeing it in french blue,

of total peace.

Like I used to feel more often.

Can't quite describe or convey but to say,

like being a child and having your dad smooth your hair.

Then it was gone and this was the Junction, 3 cop cars in one pass through town.

Got home and all a flurry, laid down, eyes wet.

This morning I did 4.5 walking and pathetically but heroically ran .5 that felt

like a mile.

Felt the trees souls reach out and feed mine, remembering a hundred walks being light and floating, heart racing.

But my hair came down and I looked for a bench,
and when I found one it was the same one. Could almost look up and see.

There was something about peacekeeping...so I got up quickly, thinking a saner person would never allow these things in, and heard for the thousandth time your words to me, "Sometimes you have to be hard..."

So I ponder the odds of finding something so similar, and the days ahead and all that needs to be sorted out. It's just these couple pebbles, like droplets of air I breath under water.
Only a lifetime...only a lifetime.


I'm thankful for home. For being in the vicinity of these memories--every place I look and everywhere I go...because there is comfort in it. Sometimes a torment but a comfort too. I imagine all the splintered pieces coming together...I imagine it being like a father's arms, it's a small and pleasant hope. And hope is what sustains me always. It is a light, and now it flickers, small and airless,
it flickers on sometimes.