Poetry for a Monday

11/6/23

It Began with Blue

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When I try to describe the space between us

it sends me clamouring and fumbling for familiar phrases, words drop to the

ground like lead marbles

rolling loud, pulling me head-downward after my hands in divergences and flustered unwindings like so much limitation.

Yet when I simply stand and let it be

then there is a knowing. I feel

this fullness

this warm rising

a slow growing balm of a balloon

inside

blooming as if warm bread yeast is scenting, spiraling to meet my nose.

A radiating golden sunlight on my eyelids.

When I see the space between us and the cerulean color of it

the peace, the soul's expanse of it

I am lifted, larger, deeper than my breath through my toes into a great sigh in the earth. How did you get right here? From what blue are you out of?

How long have I known you?

Why can't I pinpoint my response to you? Because there are thousands of pinpoints and knowings

so many pathways I experience to you again

and the choices are endless -

who you are to me.

Yet I have made a choice, if only one so far

to be brave and feel it all

not to

shut down the inlet carved out by

whatever tidal surge brought you in.

For now

I am willing to be a still and longing seascape traced with memories of a beautiful reshaping

I ask nothing of you except to perceive my

now open channel to a gulf of possibilities.