Xanadu
 

Expectations keep me grounded where without them my head would linger in the clouds– Like birds blissfully drifting  on billowing breezes, objectiveless, lost.  In their absence I build my own– I set the standard high I aim for altitude, but I keep myself tied, tethered  to the safety of the earth.  Under restriction of  responsibility I reside, I thrive.  I belong to the ground.  I belong under pressure.

My eyes dart towards the horizon. Drawn to the setting sun, With its shining, vibrant hues. I open and exhale slowly, savoring the moment with each breath. Salty particles lingering on my tongue. To turn away from its taste would be to deny myself. I swallow… Letting the saline sit. Preserving me, the briny ingestion keeps my body level; My mind clear. Again and again, the glistening waves gracefully greet the shoreline, Each infiltrating the pores of the sand. My toes drift

I belong in quiet I belong in the calm When silence drifts on When black envelops the sky When gray clouds drift above And rain falls on rooftops When the sun’s rays Shine before the world wakes I belong in quiet In the weight of blankets Warmth folding around me And when the fan hums softly  Cold air drifting onto my skin When fingers brush paper Pages turning slowly  I belong in quiet In the slow drift of my thoughts, When I realize, without trying, I am happy I belong in..

My eyes creak open. Sweat-soaked, sitting stale The room is my own image, A tangled mass,  trash and scattered wrappers Trapped -- my stifling abode. A breeze occasionally passes  Welcome, the window wide Its perfection stands aside From this space where I abide. The wind is perfect.  Advancing forever forward, full Presence develops from absence, Pressure here, pressure there One day, bearing farewell It will decide  For me to join it on its ride Through its restless, wander

I. Christmas morning, we sat in a princess  tent in the living room, played with our  newly opened toys and watched TV like  we always did with dad. We shared a room— Do you remember? We used to line the edge of our beds  with stuffed animals like a little army Yet still hold on tight to baby bunny and sock monkey You helped me make a dance for the talent show I always tried to sleep before you I begged, can you please turn your light off? You would bicker with me or just sta

We gather underneath tittering tin, feet on Earth,  During day having labored, as all of Her  beasts do. Radiant ray gives way to beating uproar– hard, solid souls of ice hammering Her  skin like a drum. Horses heave sighs, gartered girths loose, halter and horn and crownpiece and cantle,  drinking rain and deflecting day’s wayward ice. Breeching, boot, and breastplate having taken refuge in the barn, martingales cast carefully away as our own browbands and bolos dutifully do

I stand on two feet, the ground marries my soles,  Wings, I do not have, and yet, The Sky I belong to.  I outstretch my arms, the breeze blankets me, And though moles outscore me in digging,  The Earth I belong to.  Each particle, organism, being, in its place, where it should be,  Shuffling awkwardly, do they know their worth? Yet,  Each is impermanent. I stand, I outstretch, But most outstandingly, I am not stationary,  As long as I move, I am in my place, shifting until I

In my culture G-d is respected  overwhelmingly—we are to spell its name with an indicative hyphen. Nothing else respected split Nothing else split respected. Paths diverged: confusing, dividing, endlessly revitalizes, stimulates, revivifies. I am brought to them repeatedly. Left— Paved pathway, the dragging of my shoes emit ever peaceful scrapes that can heal every pitiful scar. Prickly pine trees with eroding bark picked by the children who chose this path. This peace helps

I want to be tucked in at night, in a room where the bugs don ́t bite. A room as bright as laughter and joy, a place where anyone is allowed in. My sanctuary, my cocoon, my burrow. What a dream. Why am I here? Why am I stuck living up to your expectations Why am I silent? I'm suffocating in this seclusion of a room. The room you take me to, a place where I can ́t escape your grasp. Full of paintings of mixed feelings, whether I should love you or resent you. The peeling of th

At first, I felt like a random on the floor, Lost in the echo of cheers and score. But then–one pass, one laugh, one call– And I wasn’t alone at all. The court became my place of calm, Where every serve settled my storm still. The ball beats like a heart in my hands, Each rally reminds me–I belong where I stand. Bump, breathe, believe, we say, Moving as one in the rush of play. And in that rhythm, I finally see,  Volleyball isn't just a game– It's a home to me.