It is starting to feel like spring time again, and I have to say I have really missed the sun. Here is a little something I wrote several years ago, but somehow still resonates with me today in how I’m feeling. Ever since my dad died, I feel almost as if I have stopped moving, frozen in time as the world keeps spinning. I keep working, talking to people, doing everyday chores, smiling, but inside I feel as if everything has come to a screeching halt, and only inertia is pushing me forward. Waiting for something to shake me loose…
Everyone talks about bones
and birds and flying and falling.
Everyone talks about love and moonlight
and kissing the creases of warm skin.
No one talks about the water
in the river that decided
to stop moving a few days ago,
or the clouds that haven’t lifted
from the sky in months;
or my heart that’s been inaudible
because my fingertips
can’t measure the murmurs anymore.
I know that it’s winter and the cold
laces everything with frost.
I just never thought my heart
would need to thaw
with everything else
that iced itself over.
My lips stay warm in winter months
but the nerve endings behind them
crawl back inside to rest in a web
of synapse behind my eyes somewhere.
They move and they talk
and they press against your lips,
but they can’t remember
what it used to feel like.
What it felt like when a spark
traveled from one mouth to the next
and turned my brain to jelly in my skull;
what warm and wet tasted like.
I tried standing outside in the storm last night
with my mouth wide open to see if lightning
would strike me right through the middle.
Maybe then the electricity in my body
would react with yours again.
I’ve been watching myself breathe
for a while now, watching my chest go up
and then down again as if my bones
can stretch and contract beneath my skin;
watching my belly rise and fall
like a rolling ocean wave.
I am listening to the air moving
inside of my lungs and I wonder what happens
to the air that just gets stuck
swirling around in the bottom forever.
I’m tired of comparing myself
to a bird that can fly but doesn’t know how
when I don’t have wings to begin with.
I just have a pair of stubby shoulder blades
that stick out too far
and I fantasize about the sky all day.
Maybe I should start comparing myself
to a different kind of bird
so I can stick my head in the dirt
and wait for an earthquake
to shake something loose.