Stain-glass Eyes

Don’t step on me, crush me, get in my space. I stay here on earth to tell you, or anyone. Don’t think you can enter uninvited.   You can’t.   I won’t let you, allow you to or give you permission. I won’t feel bad, guilty, mean or unkind.   I have what little confidence I need because I am learning to set perimeters around myself. I imagine they will keep me safe.   Safe from what?   You couldn’t begin to understand.   It may seem like it’s not reality to you.   But it is.   It’s my reality, my haven, my treehouse, safe from invasion. I have the signs posted.   No Trespassing!   No False Friends Allowed!   No Two-Faced Pretenders Here!   This is MY clubhouse!   Is it exclusive?   Yes!   Hell yes, it is!   Are there rules?   Yes! Damn stringent rules.   Exceptions?   Rarely.   But, I can’t say never.   I wouldn’t begin to know.   There are windows that I leave open from time to time.   I like the breeze that comes through.   The light it brings. You don’t w

Powerful forces drown my heart. I miss being loved and loving you. The pressure of loss takes my breath away. I press my ear to your bare skin.   Your heart throbs through your ribcage,   a small “click” with each beat   reaches me in the stillness, as we lie there. Your baby-soft skin, your silky hair,   Your hands like torches, ignite fires. My heart feels like a backed up river, It pushes and hammers at the blocked dam. I cry for access through the barriers I designed. There’s nowhere for me to go. I pound into the river bank instead, Bruised by each impact. From reminders of how we held hands, kissed in the park, How we sat silently, with a cup of coffee in our hands, on Liberty Street. Our eyes look out the window at the people who pass. I smile to I hear you explain how I should let my feminine side out while you push yours deeper inward. You claim you can’t sing, but your rich voice is full an

The fan is making a humming sound in the open window this morning.   Outside is a sixty-four-degree-Brooklyn, New York.   Inside a still, dark apartment  I sit  on the bed (wide awake).  My daughter is sound asleep in the next room. I quietly get up to close her bedroom door so I can mill around without waking her. I grab a banana, my laptop from the tall, wooden, kitchen table and set down on the bed to write.   I don’t always know what I will write, I do know I need to step back and process the last couple of weeks. I flew into Nashville to surprise my sister on her birthday, two weeks ago.   After a week with her, in Tennessee, I flew here.   One of Jeannie's beautiful birthday flowers! Airport travel------ Adjustments are continuous. Different living spaces, food, conversation and activities. Each adjustment forces my mind and body to leave its safe, comfort zone.   When it does I feel myself become more alert.   Like a baby bird leaving it’s s