What I want today...
I want to see the sunrise over a jagged bay in Italy--smell a plumeria dripping nectar on Hawaiian soil. I want to walk rocky roads in Ireland that another woman who shared blood of mine may have traveled. I want to carry the weight for her and lighten myself. I want to perch on the deck of a small boat on the sea at night--with only stars as landmarks, with the land only a distant memory. I want to embrace a tree whose life has already doubled and tripled my own--whose demise my great-grandchildren will not live to see.
I want to write in a whitewashed cloister in the woods, silence as my company--my company of words. I want to lay down with a lover on a batik blanket by a river and count clouds in the reflections of one another's eyes. I want to see him smile--with his whole heart aflame--with a piece of his own life in his left hand, and my heart in his right. I want his kiss--soft and sharp all at once--huddled at the base of my throat. I want this to be now, and in another 10 years, and another 30 more. Until our sad someday when we sink side by side beneath the earth we loved--like Whitman--remembered only in bootsoles, waiting patiently.
I want to help my weary daughter rock her daughter off to sleep. I want to watch my son marry and drink slivers of champagne from his luminescent bride's shoe. I want to taste the fruits of my labor--bitter, then sweet, upon my tongue. I want my ribcage to expand to frame the ever-widening circles of my heart.
I want to see the sunrise over a jagged bay in Italy--smell a plumeria dripping nectar on Hawaiian soil. I want to walk rocky roads in Ireland that another woman who shared blood of mine may have traveled. I want to carry the weight for her and lighten myself. I want to perch on the deck of a small boat on the sea at night--with only stars as landmarks, with the land only a distant memory. I want to embrace a tree whose life has already doubled and tripled my own--whose demise my great-grandchildren will not live to see.
I want to write in a whitewashed cloister in the woods, silence as my company--my company of words. I want to lay down with a lover on a batik blanket by a river and count clouds in the reflections of one another's eyes. I want to see him smile--with his whole heart aflame--with a piece of his own life in his left hand, and my heart in his right. I want his kiss--soft and sharp all at once--huddled at the base of my throat. I want this to be now, and in another 10 years, and another 30 more. Until our sad someday when we sink side by side beneath the earth we loved--like Whitman--remembered only in bootsoles, waiting patiently.
I want to help my weary daughter rock her daughter off to sleep. I want to watch my son marry and drink slivers of champagne from his luminescent bride's shoe. I want to taste the fruits of my labor--bitter, then sweet, upon my tongue. I want my ribcage to expand to frame the ever-widening circles of my heart.
© 2005 CDS
posted by Left-handed Trees... at 11:15 PM
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