warming up after weeks of silence

I came here to write. I said that’s what I was going to do, for the first time in weeks. I would sit alone at the spot (a cafe, small wooden table, the shuffle of casual doing all around, passing by, speaking in soft voices) holding still for long enough for words to wend their way from the hidden corners to the open page.

Then when I sit, ready to relax, to firmly set other matters aside, it’s all business in my head. What to mail when, a haze of details I can’t reach, the ones ahead in the illusion I cling to, this time with its incessant whisper, pulling me brain and body out of the present, away from my life as it is.

It is (and I know this when I have successfully failed to worry) an upbeat, love-filled harmony with occasional scratches and a few questions that cannot, at this moment, be answered. I set the unanswered and not-yet-done aside in favor of what I witness (it is a way into right now): the pat-pat-pat of mall walkers, the diamond criss-cross of white tile, my breath in and out, the silence in between and R. Carlos Nakai’s gift playing on turquoise earbuds.

I even have chocolate. A small gold-wrapped Honey Mint, perfectly formed. I will eat it in tiny bites.

And as I go along being quiet, listening, I will be brought to gentle tears by a sense of the pulse and beauty of what I cannot see, the wave of Love holding it All together.

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