dust in light

it’s been so long since i’ve written anything about anything in any form that is unrealted to city year, high school students, or climate change, that I think i may have forgotten–for a moment–why i feel a pull to create.

i haven’t held my guitar in my hands for my own sake, for it’s own sake, for weeks.  I haven’t sat and listened to the wind blow and felt it alive, whisping through the hair on my arms. 

i haven’t opened my journal and closed my distractions to that blank page, ripe with the emptiness of possibility.  allowing simple black ink to spread from my hand as web, as root, as seed, or maybe dust.  catching light and filling empty space but leaving it navigable as water.  illuminated–revealed by light, undetected in darkness.

but–I have sat among strangers and asked.  listened to their words, without telling them anything.  without explaining something, explaining me.

I have watched and wept in silent consent when light came streaming over the earth around me, and i knew my heart was as full as it could ever be.  knew that it always was and always is and always will be, but it may always be impossible to know it at all times.  yes.  breathe in.

i have allowed my mind to expand into the words of a good friend; that incredible game of thought.  i have indulged it and allowed the vessel of my mind to connect to the feeling of my heart, and the presence of a life connecting to mine though that vehicle.  Words and gestures, eyes, hands, expressions reaching at something more that we both may understand.  can’t express.

words are strange pieces of dust.