say what?!

i can be happy in my own skin
i can be ecstatic knowing i am alone
i can be free to roam as my heart desires
i can see a picture of costa rica
then make it be that i am in it
i have all of these wishes i never
knew i had
i want to backpack through south america
i want to roam the beaches of thailand
i want to dance ancient dances
i want to feel complete peace
i want to save the world by saving myself
we are all the sum of choices
we are all spirit and light
we are all pure love
Time is all we have to know it-
to live it.

After the Dance

I miss you when I dance.
Songs we moved to
I hear your voice singing along
I see your handsome face
I miss knowing you were there
I could dance with anyone
but I wanted to be with you
I miss looking for you
finding your eyes searching for mine
making the connection
me moving toward you
you moving toward me
feeling the sigh in my
heart when you reach me
then we dance
I miss you when I dance.

it's hard to forget a lovely man

tonight it rained
and I thought of you
it rained the day you left
i remember the way you listened to me
hanging onto my every word
i remember everything you said
how the words touched my heart
i remember you saying you would
write to keep us connected
with all of these memories
floating in my mind
i am wondering why there is silence.
should i forget you?

Rainy Days

6/29/06
7:45pm

It finally rained. Fat, full warm drops. Covering the sidewalks, streets with the clouds' cargo. Held at bay until the sun began to drop over the horizon. Summer rain. Hard, fast, with a cool breeze washing away the heat. Cleaning the air. The fast, frantic falling eases into a calm dance on the city's pavement. The clouds, the air, the heat appeased sigh as day turns to night, my feet wet with rain.

July 1, 2006
9:15pm

Two days later the city is blanketed with wetness. The air heavy with the promise of rain, quietly warning of the downpore soon to come, moving more cautious city dwellers to carry umbrellas. Umbrellas that have gone unused for two days. Yet, the sky promises rain and though there is silence, it cannot quiet the gray warning hanging above the city. The thick air does not allow for echos only the muffled sound of feet on wet pavement. Pavement not touched by a drop of rain for two days.
This is the mythical quiet before the storm. The great sucking in of air before a loud shout. The varied storms that have raged in the soul, once felt this deep sucking in, and not being cautious, mistook the quiet for peace. Ahhhh, but this quiet is shaking with energy. Rushing with energy. It is not calm and steady.
So the city awaits a storm. My soul prepares for battle. My umbrella is still dry.