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I forgot, or maybe, I never learned

what it was;

To feel the sun lick my skin,

warmth and light in its wake.

To listen and hear the music of life

teaming softly as the wind carries its sweet notes

and stops only for a moment, to

pick up mine along the way.

To taste the bitterness of underripe fruit

or the frivolity of spice. Flavor like paint on my tongue,

telling me stories of love.

To witness miracles and delight in their mysteries.

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.

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.

-June

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I am who I am because of those who came before me. Am I then indebted?

What is a family?

A strand of organic material buried deep within a cell?

A shared home?

A denomination?

A denominator?

The ties that bind us are tight. Too tight. Tug and pull though I might, I cannot loosen their reins on my being. They are reminders, restrictions, boundaries, safety…

I am who I am because of those who came before me. Who are they?

What is a family?

A status symbol?

A paper trail?

A promise?

A regret?

The hands that hold me are worn. Too worn. Soften my grip though I might, I cannot restore their youth. They are mementos and sacrifices, the passing of time.

I am who I am because of those who came before me. How do I grieve them?

What is a family?

A tree for which I am but a small branch?

A means to an end?

A disguise?

A purpose?

The eyes that see me are blind. Too blind. Though I describe the world in careful detail, I cannot grant them sight. They are relics of the past, doomed to see only that which they can accept.

I am who I am because of those who came before me. And, in spite of them?

What is a family?

Cloaked conformity?

An unalterable fate?

A responsibility?

A burden?

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The hearts that find me are pure. Perfectly pure. I show up as I am, and they do too. I can give them my love. Their touch is cooling. Their ties are flexible. Their hands are capable. Their eyes are clear.

I am who I am because of the love I inspire. The love I am.

What, then, is a family?

Recognition & respect?

Mutual sacrifice?

Commonality?

A family is unconditional love.

To all who have an unconditional love in their life, cherish it always.

-June

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art by the incomparable talent on Pinterest

no one answered.

entailing, entitled

mirroring, mirage

are you there?

*

i spoke your name today,

no one looked up.

sensing, senseless

mutilating, mute

did you hear me?

*

i saw you today,

no one noticed.

losing, lost

grieving, grief

where are you?

gone.

***

We can’t talk about it. Does that make it more real? If we talk about you, are you somehow more gone?

Your birthday passed. Did anyone wish you a happy birthday, wherever you are?

Dad told me he wishes he were dead, too. Does that make you more alive again?

We feel you in tortured waves, current and wind moving asynchronously. We’re at its mercy. Are you drowning, too?

I see you in the purple flowers that bloom across my neighborhood. Where do you see me?

You’re there, behind our eyes and in our hearts. Is that enough?

I write for you. Do you read my words?

We didn’t know each other, I thought.

Or did we, all too well?

anyway, here it is…

-June

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Sometimes I am a song. Undulating and indeterminate. My tune is guttural and evocative. My melody precise and unpredictable. My lyrics forgettable, but my harmony haunting.

Are you desperate to hum my notes?

Do pieces of me linger in your mind long after I’ve faded away?

Sometimes I am a mite, swirling at the taste of your exhale, glittering in the sunlight. As if I were more than death and decay, dancing hopelessly at the mercy of unrelenting gravity, pulling me ever closer to sure extinction.

To some, I am a star shining bright in memoriam. Too far. Already gone. Beauty in the eye of the beholder who lives and dies, bewildered by the echo of my perilous shadow.

Today I am a flame. My insatiable hunger careening recklessly towards all you’ve taken for granted. You forgot to breathe, so I devoured all of the oxygen. Never looking back, but then again, direction is futile to the all-encompassing.

A blight.

A blinding light.

Blind.

And unkind.

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Tomorrow, I’ll be an apology. An empty word. An unfulfilled wish. A shattered promise. An open wound, singed and scorched. Sick with grief and frenzied with regret, I’ll walk on the ashes of all that I once loved, incinerated by disillusionment and temper.

and in my isolation, I’ll wonder

if it was

really

all for nothing

and if

the incomprehensibility

of nothingness

of nonbeing

of nonexistance

is all of the meaning

I ever needed.

-June

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