again

will we ever go dancing
again? will there be dancing?
slowly we gather again.
when we see each other
will there be embraces?
will we be hesitant, or
will we press into each other?
there are so many ways
i have missed you.
there are so many ways
for us to say we’re sorry.
forgive me.
will there be healing?
will we rediscover
our joy in one another?
will we learn again
to exercise grace?
will we choose now
to be prisoners of hope?
please, set the table;
have the wine ready.
we will learn to laugh
again. there will be tears.
we capture them
in bottles to remember
how we were once
hidden from each other.
then let us embrace,
and dance again.

I miss Prince

It’s been six short years
and I still regret
not seeing you play
at Rexall Place.
We never know when
it’s our last chance.
You never seemed to age,
perhaps because you
were always in motion,
always reinventing,
trying on new voices
as if they were clothes.
Not that I thought
you would never die –
just not that young –
not even yet sixty,
with still so much
music left in you.
There’s only so much
we can control –
our bodies break down,
and it’s our first
instrument.
We can only name
ourselves, hopefully
exit stage right.

420

i spent a decade high –
hence no tattoos.
i worked at a coffee shop
and a sandwich shop,
made one good meal a day
for myself, and got high.
 
most evenings i spent
with friends, or went dancing
just to feel the beat
inside my body,
to experience sound
as a cloud, or a fog;
to watch and marvel
at all the ways people
move their bodies.
 
even so, i miss it sometimes –
despite the blur of nights
with lovers, early mornings
wandering city streets,
i miss the buzzing of my skin
and the clarity of the moment:
how it didn’t matter if i was alone
as long as i felt alive.

they said

they said to go deeper
but i did not know how
there is not enough
breath in me
 
they said it will pass
but it never did
and now it is my friend
or at least tolerable
 
they said join us here
and then left early
i forgot where to meet
and sat alone
 
they said nothing more
and hid their faces
how do you work with silence?
what tools does one use?
 
they said to bring it into the light
but i only see shadows
what should i do then
when i no longer know your name?

surprise

you keep showing up
unbidden, a gift
we didn’t know
we wanted, or needed—
the surprise of joy
as we gather
outside in procession,
singing together
bathed in the light
of day, until
we gather again
in houses with
doors opened
and windows open
and the sky
is somehow brighter
or maybe we see
the world
differently
if death is no longer
something we fear.
maybe we feel
less of the weight
if we lift our eyes,
hearts, hands, songs.
maybe the story
is better when shared
like good news,
or wonder.