please stop 
tearing me in two 
the love of your life 
yet your punching bag, too? 


imperfect and indecent 
rapturous and consuming 
why must you cower
at the sight of my blooming


a life spent shivering
alone and afraid
that I would never know
the warm light of day


a pale imitation
for love and affection 
left me wandering bravely
in the opposing direction


we’re tangled together 
us fateful two 
what’s left for us, but
that I love you


my seams are splitting
the blood pouring out
can this dance only end
in famine and drought?

A delicate herb 
wilts & withers. 
Desiccated, it cries
for a tear never fallen.

An aching lung, 
gasps & gapes.
Hypoxic, it heaves
for a breath never woken.

A fresh babe, 
babbles & bawls
ravenous, it flails 
for a love never chosen.

Dear thing, 
yearning & yen. 
Obstinant, you wait 
for all never taken.

Have you then forgotten?
Some hungers demand
to be fed. 

I didn’t recognize it at first, having never been here myself.
Realization let me in.  
A tentative first step meets wonder, 
Where am I?
Who belongs here? 

Familiarity burns my nostrils with each inhale, yet 
Certainty grips me tighter still.
I must not know this place. 

A blink to clear the haze begets a quiet question, 
Could I belong here? 

Something deep echoes the query, but Certainty 
says no. 


A glance reveals all of my favorite things. 
Golden light flows in, seeming to brighten with my notice. 
Plants breathe, exhaling the sweetness of life, 
welcoming me with their kiss.

Color dances playfully across walls, floors, and furniture. 
Dogs jump at my feet, an ambush of smiles and fluff, as
soft music from a distant corner gently wipes away thought and worry. 

The sunflowers turn to greet me.


It’s everything, and yet, what’s missing?
I look back and see Fear on the doorstep
beckoning me back. 
It doesn’t belong here. 

Certainty reminds me that
neither do I.


There is only Love here, and she envelops me tenderly.
As unsure as I am if we’re ready.
Home, she whispers. 
Certainty snickers.
We don’t have a home. 

But— A protest and a wish tangling on my tongue. 
But, 
But. 

The music sweeps past me, then. 
It tugs my gaze forward toward a small girl,
I hadn’t noticed, sitting in the corner of this delicate place. 

Entirely to herself, she sings.
Aligning stuffed companions before her, until
they are arranged, just so. 

As I see them, I hear them, too. 
Little voices gently harmonizing.

Curiosity wakes with sudden interest. 
Though the creatures before her are worn and frail, 
loose buttons for eyes. Areas of worn-away fur. 
Limbs fragile, details faded.

As alive as her or me.

The pull of her magic carries me closer.
She does not turn to see who approaches. 
She and her stuffed ensemble,
sing on.  


Love stills as if to hear for herself, 
the something deep within hums along, too.
Bewildered, I wait, and Certainty falters. 
Its allegiance shifts, as
my lips twitch half-formed words. 

Long ago, I forgot the song. But I never, 
forgot the words.


She isn’t alone; I’m here now. 
And as I join her now,
in sitting and in song,
she rests her small head on my shoulder. 
The animals move closer in greeting. 
Old friend, how we’ve missed you.

And I, you.

The plants, the dogs, the walls, the light, the air, the love 
hear our chorus reach its peak. 
Loneliness leaches from each rising note. 
We even let Fear in then. Taking its hand, 
recognizing its oneness, 
with us and all things. 


The song closes. The girl looks up at me, finally. 
She’s beaming, and I see.
How her love willed these animals into being.
If only to lend her company while she waited, 
for me.

I’m sorry I forgot you. 
Her soft kiss lands on my tear-stained cheek, 
anyway.

This must be the place,
our place. 

Big feelings roil deep in little bodies. 
How good we are at feeling them, then. 
The tears flow swiftly and small chests heave, as 
if to cleave the weight entirely. 
A momentary reprieve from all that we 
do not yet know how to hold. 

Long since desensitized 
to this burden of living, we
respond only in shushes or shoos.
Until one day, we start responding
not at all. As our parents before us.

We don’t know where the feelings go —
over time calcifying within. 
And instead of releasing that 
which was never ours to carry. 

Resistance builds, and still we blame
the other — 
as if such blame could lighten the load.
An illusion of control, and
the closest thing to safety
we’ll ever get. 

Can you become we, 
without us being me? 

I'm not just your she. 
Oh don't you see?

You love in extreme.
Whereas I live between.

I churn the sea
with this one fragile plea.

Take mercy on me
I must set myself free.


Before I bleed harmony
Until we're stained misery.


I will not cease to be, 
begging you to be we.

Come find me where the light stops —
and shadows grow fuzzy, 
as if afraid to bleed.

Come find me where the buds push upward —
soft earth giving way to merciful sun. 
Petals, exhaling.

Come find me where soul and body meet —
one breath, holier
than prayer.

Come find me where my name rolls — 
feral on your tongue, echoing on
before it’s gone.

Come find me where ache and ecstasy tangle — 
until they share
a single skin.

Come find me where the wild things are —
for here at last, I belong. 
I, too, am a
wild thing.

I forgot, or maybe, I never learned
what it was; 
To feel the sun lick my skin, 
warmth and light in its wake. 

To hear the teaming instruments of life
carried along the wind.
And pausing fleetingly, to
pick up my melody along its way. 

To taste the bitterness of underripe fruit
or the frivolity of spice. Flavor painting my tongue,
with stories of love.

Have you ever stopped to marvel at the season’s edge? 
Where infinite heat bows before the breeze and
everything in nature responds in kind. 
Bearing witness to miracles, and delighting
in their mysteries.

The animals learn for survival. But do you think,
as I hope, for beauty too? 
I stopped today to remember all that
you never taught me: How to survive is also
how to live.