Slowly, It Does Come Back

One of these days, I’m going to find myself completely naked on the page. The being naked and writing naked are the same, only tangents of the same premise. I look into myself and I see that there are a lot of naughty thoughts. A host, a contingent. Legion. I know these are not mine alone but freely pass in and out of all the body known as human. Yet I am timid. I feel like I want to be alone, but why then be among so many as well as have a son and a longing for company? I can truly have the alone any time I want it. I believe that is a strong candidate for what may lie on the other side. I cannot truly want it, even as it feels like it is the best thing for everyone. I might want to go into a chrysalis.

I have a sense like a spider with a foot on a web as it lies in hiding that there is a big moment, an understanding that will bring the weave of my life into focus just moments away. I have this uneasiness that moves through my emotions searching for a voice, meaning.

There is ice on the river that breaks up then gathers on various things like trees fallen and eroded bank. It was ice dams that flooded the Capital. Streams lead to rivers from many and differing places from far away sources and hidden springs, but when they have to all converge to get where they need to get to and there is all this transparent, individually dividable mess of entanglement, very little gets to where it needs to get to for a while.

What’s the hold up? All this stuff is easy. It’s nothing. Oh.

If it were easy to talk about I would already be flowing, not holding back, peeping over a frozen dam brimming with myself.

I am breaking like the hold of winter. You’re damn right I’m afraid.

I don’t have an honest thing I can say after that. It just is really that way. No cure. No apology.

A fat robin appears with a flutter on a branch across the road. The sun shines. This is how I feel. The signs are all here. The snow is diminished. Soon the body I love and miss so will lie naked beneath me, stretching for me, beckoning me to believe in the only promise there is. But now, there seems to be some trouble with the path ahead. Some obstacles that won’t go away, that demand time and understanding and patience (which seems so frayed and worn). A lot of the snow is crushed into massive sheets. Only the persistence of the sun will persuade it to give up its stubborn ways, loosen up, flow. And only as fast as it will go.