“i can hear your smile today,”
he said to me this morning
this man, who makes me feel seen, whole, female

i feel that way without a man, too,
but isn’t it so nice to know
that someone out there is listening

You watch
as I navigate
my confection
Tongue, swirling
Taking in 
all the sweetness
my fingers grasping 
the cone, 
as my other hand, 
brushes away 
a strand of hair 
from 
my mouth.

Her excitement upon spying the Wonder Woman skirt was enough 
But when she noticed the nail polish, too, her glee spilled over
Into my heart.

Spring and summer and fall
Have passed before me 
like the slowest moving train

I sit at the crossing 
anticipate the all clear 
I’ve never felt so old

The radio plays only static
The window breaths only stillness
I read the thermometer and wait

What if?
[We all]
Drove a Subaru?
Studied the Torah?
Ate vegan cheese?
Prayed 4x a day?
What if:
[We all]
Loved our collards?
Read the Constitution?
Got on our knees?
Asked, Como estas?
What if:
Race and religion 
were as fluid as gender?
What if kindness and compassion 
were all that was taught?
Where would that take us?
What elevation! 
Humans,
Being, 
Human,
Not humans,
Being bought.
What if
We cared for our brothers,
Regardless of color?
Raised up our sisters,
Regardless of size?
What if?
We taught all our children 
We’re one and the same!
We can weep in collective,
Remember our names!
What if?
This world we’ve been granted 
Could reach out and teach us
Arm in arm, not versus,
Is how we’ll survive?

That house wasn’t mine,
I borrowed it for a while,
from a friend.
Well, she wasn’t my friend, 
Just some lady from Craigslist.
A furnished sublet.
Meant to be temporary
The closets were huge 
There was space 
for contemplation.
I decided to stay.
while my marriage unravelled
And my wings unfurled.
I didn’t have to buy a thing, 
Not even a can opener.
There were two cows on the wall
with hooks for coats
They made me laugh.
So much more than I had before. 
In the house that was mine.

Sept. 5, 2020

Some of them come to you with toy surprises inside. Some of them come with nothing at all. But always they’re precious and fragile and beautiful, adding color and delight to an otherwise rainy season. Then, in the fall, they pack up their Priuses, and head back to school. Your treasure-filled daughters, scattered like Easter eggs, hoping to be discovered by someone who will love them, unconditionally, like you.

She travels different routes now, and shops at different stores. Sometimes she forgets that he, and that old life, are literally just around the corner. 

She wakes up everyday, grateful for the birds and the brand new fig tree she planted (yesterday) with a garden spade (because she doesn’t own a real shovel and the bitter woman next door wouldn’t loan her hers). 

And she’s glad, for all she’s gaining, but she’s also sad, for all that she’s given up, like hearing the particular, awkward, rhythm of her somewhat ungraceful older daughter cantering down the stairs every single morning, not just on her custody days, or her youngest, bursting into laughter, or spontaneously sitting down at their old upright piano whose top two keys don’t play at all…

Those last few years, he used to say, “I’m not going anywhere,” as a statement of his commitment. And at first, it felt comforting. But after awhile she realized that he loved BEING MARRIED, not being married TO HER.

He was sweet, he was kind, but he was weak. She tried getting his attention, but it was senseless. He, was senseless. He couldn’t hear her, couldn’t see. So, while his declaration felt to him like the highest possible bar, to her, it felt like prison, like a sentence. And so, leaving was left all on her.

She knows that she broke him. She wishes that weren’t the case, but she couldn’t find any other way. Total destruction, was what it took, finally, to make him feel. 

1. [My] addict, though beautiful, kind, tender, thoughtful, divinely sexy, will always, as long as he is using, put his drugs and alcohol first: Before me, before my kids, before his kid, before his own selfcare. His addiction will always be there and will always resent anything and everything that gets in its way.
   
2. I do not need to support financially, transportation-wise, meal-wise, habit-wise, health-wise, hobby-wise, anyone in order to be worthy of love. I do not need to be needed to be lovable. Aka, love, kindness, respect, tenderness, do not have to be transactional. Should not be transactional.
   
3. I am a wounded girl from an emotionally neglectful and physically disrespectful household. Where my feelings didn’t matter/were ignored. I do not need to remain silent or needless. I do not deserve only “broken” people to “love” me.
   
4. I was not raped–by my father, or my stepfather, or my uncle’s, or my neighbor’s–but I did suffer sexually at the hands of others who took unfair advantage of my kindness, my naivety, my desire for connection. That makes me vulnerable and leaves me with blind spots. Someone may very well have preyed upon me and my children for their own sick need for power. This does not obviate my responsibility, my role or in the fallout; but it does mean that I need to be vigilant, and also, make space to forgive myself for not knowing or doing better at the time, and in the future.
   
5. I am an adult, divorced woman. If I decide to have sex with someone, whether or not it’s within a commited relationship, that is my decision and my right. I am free. I am strong. I am worthy.
   
6. Healing is a daily decision and a daily practice. For me, it requires meditation, journaling, writing poetry, making art, playing and listening to music, taking walks, listening to the rain, washing dishes, folding laundry, taking showers, drinking water. Eating good food, laughing, teaching, sleeping, and being touched. All in moderation. All one day at a time. Some days, twelve steps forward, some days 11 steps back. It’s all a part of the journey.

Over think

Over eat

Over sing

Over bake

Over fuck 

Over care

Over dare

Over share 

Over hear

Over there

Over prepare?

Overrule.

It is over, see?

        I am.

                      over.

                                  Here.