A version of me has been building for seven years and 
I feel her arrival coming soon

It’s been slow, painful, quiet, hidden
It’s been out of my reach and out of my sight
It’s been in the tears at the studio of my life

Like simultaneously I’m in the audience, anxious for the show to start, reading over the program and hoping it’s as good as I imagine
Nay, better, grander, softer, quieter, lovelier

And I’m…she’s also back there, behind the scenes
Warming up her feet and ankles
Stretching her spine and arms so she can reach me

Plié, port de bras
Tendu, port de bras
Degagé, sous-sous
Rond de jambe

En lair
Frape
Adage
Grand battement

Releve
Stretch
Changements
Sautés

The house lights pulsate
The voiceover calls patrons to their seats
We turn off our phones
We take a deep breath

She checks the pins in her hair
Peels off the leg warmers
Takes off the vest
She takes a deep breath

B plus, make an entrance
Look straight ahead
Stand long
Head high

They’re waiting for you
She’s waiting for you
I’m waiting for you
The curtain’s about to rise

I feel it coming 
Softly and gently
Slowly not anxiously 
Like spring whispering of its arrival

The temperature’s rising
And the sky is pouring onto the ground
And bees are making their return
But the only birds singing their song are the seagulls that braved the winter
And tree branches remain bald 

But I’m not rushed
I’ve loved winter  
I’ve gotten comfortable bundling up and keeping myself from the elements

I’ve stood in awe at the sight of branches encased in ice  
I’ve meditated on the song of the seagulls
I’ve been glad not to have to worry about bees bothering me
I’ve loved to see the snowfall with a quiet howl
I’ve delighted in the winter weather

But some days the grey skies overwhelm 
And the cold chill has pierced my bones
And I wonder if I no longer mind the bees following me
And I long to see a bluejay waving its wings
And I miss the sun’s rays on my skin
And I miss the trees waltzing in the breeze 

But for now
I’m cherishing every little frosty moment 
For now, I will live this present life fully
Because I know one day I’ll wake up
And the trees will be lush with green again
And the birds will be chirping on my window
And the bees will be attracted to my scent
And the blue sky will greet me with a smile
And the sun will kiss my skin

So I’ll savor this
One last whiff of snow
One last icy breeze on my face
One last time not worrying about the bees and birds stealing my food
One last time admiring the bald trees
By myself

Because one day 
The season will change
And I will think back on this winter  
And I will look at the memories with a smile
Holding the hand of my beloved

My friend likes sour things
I wonder where that comes from
I wonder if her life has been so sweet she wants balance
Or perhaps the taste of citrus in her mouth makes her feel seen
I wonder if there’s something refreshing about the liquid making rounds
I wonder if her soul craves for an endless summer, where she’s lived the sweetest times

I wonder why I like spice
Why most of my life I’ve not liked desserts 
Except for a few select that remind me of a few sweet times 
I didn’t like ice cream until I was twenty one
The same time I began to eat key lime pie

My brother taught me that what we call spice is a pain response
I crave it often, but never so much as when I’m about to bleed
Never so much as when my insides already hurt

I wonder if the pain of spice makes me feel seen
A promise of a day when pain wouldn’t hurt
A way to feel something in the moment justified
When I was told I felt too much and it wasn’t all that
A way to cry when I was told to stop or I’d be given something to cry about

I wonder why our tastes gravitate toward mirrors
Likewise but complementary
The internal externalized
A growing tolerance to that of what we have much

I like lemons as well
But not nearly as much as my friend
And not as much as I like capsaicin

I miss the days of sneaking into Dwight Chapel
With the reverence of someone 
Entering a library 
Turned into a house of worship

Gliding quietly to the columns
Feeling my breath deepen and slow down 
Looking up to see the sunset casting shadows around
Seeing the light trickle through the windows of stained glass

Moving closer to the organ and wondering about 
the divine talent to fill this hallowed room 
With glory and song
by the pressing of some keys, and pulling the right stops

Wandering back, as through a meadow of polished granite and oak
Heel to toe, hands behind my back in respect
Leaning my head against a column 
Feeling the weight slide down my back

Tracing my ungloved fingers down its spine
Feeling each stone inclusion
Touching history touching me
Hearing the ground calling to me

Peeling off my coat  
Placing it down like a cradle for my soul
Descending slowly, vertebrae by vertebrae
Feeling the coolness of the stone 

Grabbing my phone in search of Palestrina’s chants
Laying it on my belly letting the words be my covering
Veni, Sancte Spiritus

Staring at the ceiling
Letting the time go by
As long as a I needed for the mind to hear

My worries and concerns be taken up to Heaven 
In a silent prayer of rest and surrender
O bone, Iesu

I feel the claws
The many hands trying to grab me
Entangle me
Destroy me
And I wish I could just leave my skin behind and fly away
But I’m too firmly grounded
And all the windows are bolted shut
And I can hardly see the sun

But in my mind I have wings
And my feet don’t touch the ground
Instead I grow roots fed by the air I breathe
And the moisture that envelops me

In my mind I can go far whenever I want
And find my place
In front of everyone
And hidden from some
And there I can set down my feet
And let my wings rest
And let my roots grow deep
And wide
Wide enough I can sprout up wherever I’d like
Firmly planted but never trapped

Oh that I would fall asleep between your arms,
Every inch of me absorbed in your protection,
Surrounded, cradled

Oh that I would be suspended between heaven and earth
That my cares would fall away beneath me
Drop by drop

Oh that your warmth would be my blanket
That I may rest my weary head on your wings

Oh that I may stay with you as long as I want
Even longer than I need

Some days your coffee is cold as soon as you pour
Your clothes don’t feel right
Your underwear is uncomfortable
Your bag feels heavier
Your shoulders ache with the same weight
Rain run-off water drenches your shoes with car oil and duck feces
You sit on a wet chair
And lightning rains on your parade

Good thing that’s only some days
Though I’ve been having a lot of these days

And then you turn around and you see
a little duckling learning to live in the rain
And for that whole entire moment,
It’s an entirely magical day

Why are you downcast, oh my soul
Is it the drought of a season that at times seems only to take

Dry ground reflecting sky
Barrenness all around

Is it the lack of movement of that troubles you
What once was flowing waters now unseen

The deferred hope
The aching of patience

Is it the scorching heat that seems to kill what was alive
The hot deafening silence

Oh my soul,
Turn your eyes to the sky and ask for rain

As droplets fall you’ll see them fall on still waters
For there was always water

Just waiting to be stirred,
Waiting in preparation

Oh my soul,
Let yourself rest by still waters

Let the water fall on you
Let the rain wash away your sweat

And when you’re young enough again
Run around around like a child 

Splash around puddles
Crouch with the toads

Stick your tongue out and drink from the living water
And the next time it feels hot and dry

Look up to the sky and remember,
You’ll soon again have rain droplets on still waters

Still, I crave softness. 
I crave the soft gentle poetry
The sweet breeze of comfort

I crave the weight to be lifted off my chest
The heaviness in my arms and legs to release me
The brightness to come back to my eyelids

But maybe I’m just tired
Tired of the old
Waiting for the new

Neither there
Nor over there
But right here, waiting

Like a guard on night watch
Expecting for morning and the joy within it
Patiently waiting

I see the light cracking through the clouds slightly
Finally… I feel the excitement swell within me
Someone is coming to relieve me

But the clouds move aside 
And I see it was just the moon
It’s okay, I’ll wait

I’ll keep my eyes peeled
I’ll count the stars
I’ll learn how the light bounces off the pavement

There’s beauty here
There’s softness here
There’s joy here

Right in the wilderness
I befriend the nighttime creatures
I befriend the earliest birds

And when dawn breaks 
I’ll bow my body low and give thanks
As I do now, because I’m here

And not there,
Even if I’m not over there
I’ll keep watch and wait

Today I saw a dragonfly
With wings of copper strings
It sat on a twig admiring the flowers underneath

Today I saw a dragonfly and asked it what it loves
What its dreams are and what its plans are for tonight
She responded with a twinkle and a fly about the grass

Then it stood still and invited me to watch
Entranced I flew forward following its path

I noticed she was careful to not break the spider’s web
So elegant she sat, her back completely outstretched 
Made me recognized the tightness and my own weariness

I bent my torso forward and arched my spine back
Stretched my sides and legs and moved my wings about

She responded once again, with a roundabout the grass
Landed this time on a slightly different branch
Looking out to the south before taking off at once

“What I love is to be and I dream of the wind
And for this night I plan to take you along with me”

I may not understand
In the in between
What may lie ahead
Of the in between
And here I am
Melting in the waters of my own tears and
I can’t see the end of the pain
The end of the confusion in the wilderness

I may not understand
In the in between
What you’re doing in my heart
What you’re bringing out of ashes
Out of my brokenness
What you’re teaching while showing me how little I know, 
How little I can do on my own

I’m brought down to my knees
My strength can’t keep me straight anymore.

A bitter sound wails out of 
my soul
I don’t know what to say so I just sit still
And it’s hard to believe still
You’re still good, all the time
You won’t let me break down too far
Cry too hard

This I know
That it’ll come together at the right time
Just like you did last time
And the last time
Though I keep forgetting and dusting on me ashes
You never forget to bring me out of the darkness
Though I may not understand
That you always have a plan
In the between

An eye for a leg
A penny for your thoughts
Two pennies for a twopence 
A tradition since forgotten
A symbol of community 
Of highlighted strengths 
and scaffolded weaknesses 

My arm for your arm
My head for your shoulder 
An inconvenience 
Cast aside by little boxes and systems 

My hours for pennies 
My pennies for hours 
My dollars for an arm
My dollars for a shoulder
My dollars for your strengths 
My dollars to do away with weaknesses
My dollars for fast legs 
My begging for good thoughts 
A twopence for a penny

Shh, watch how they glisten.
God said the Truth was made to light and
they refuse to listen
Three blind mice looking for life in a labyrinth full of dead ends.
See how they run...see how they run
Shh, be still, watch and listen

Let me paint you a picture, 
you’re at the end of yourself, 
tried every thing, exhausted your strength
Walls have gone up and all you wish for is liberty
You know, what is liberty?  
It is freedom from oppressive restrictions
and freedom from enslavement to our flesh
So, 
Have you been liberated?

I digress

But how, you ask,
One blind mice, you see how I run?
Where shall I find this liberty?

Shh, be still, watch
Look thorugh the shrubs of your dead ends, 
look beyond it.
Can you see the golden splendor?
Can you see the crimson wash?
Look at how it covers every hidden area
How it highlights the beauty you had never seen before.

Shh,
Watch how it glistens,
Es palpable, es visible.
As you get closer, do you see it?
Do you feel it?
Do you hear His fresh wind rushing in
enveloping you,
pushing past you,
breaking down your walls?

Not quite yet? 
Shh, you need to be still, 
watch and listen.

Read the Word, what does it say?
It says “Walk…in the light”
But see how you run. 
Be still.

Take one step of faith forward 
Into the Light. 
He is the Light 
Como señal de fuego 
Como lámpara a nuestros pies
El aclara nuestras tinieblas 
En mano nos guía fuera los laberintos de nuestras vidas

There you go!
Da gloria, aleluya!
Gustad y ved that the Lord is good.
You’ve been freed from oppressive restrictions. 
Gózate

See the shattered walls touched by His golden splendor
Watch how they glisten 

I once heard "if you really love something, it will love you back as much as it can."

But I wonder, have I loved this place as much as I can?
Have I been grateful enough?

Has its structure seeped into my very DNA?
Or have I loved it at arm’s length?

Have I hugged it as much as it’s hugged me
On winter days with its warmth and summer days with its buzzing coolness?

Have my retinas tattooed on them the view from my window
in the winter…in the fall…in the summer…in the spring?

Have I traced my fingers around its surfaces enough?
Felt the sting of the cold stone counter?

Have I appreciated enough that it takes me only 
ten steps to the kitchen, and fifteen to the bathroom?

Have I neglected to look up in the lobby's art deco moldings, gilded edges and bursting sun rays?
Have I become so familiar I no longer look around, slowly taking it all in?

Have I stood by the window for long enough, drinking up the sunset, 
memorizing every relief and carving in the buildings of old campus?

Have I become close enough friends with my neighboring trees?

Have I felt the hard floor ground my body often enough?

Have I felt the pressure of the water washing the day away?

Have I listened to the hum of the city at night?

Will I ever miss the detested roar of the bikes?

Did I thank the soft blades of grass that cradled me in the fall?

Or the wasps that first frightened me but ended up releasing me of my fear?

Have I collected enough flowers and leaves?

Have I admired their colors and textures long enough?

Have I memorized the contrast between the sounds of winter and the return of spring?
The change in song as fall rolls in?

...

Have I thanked you enough? Could I ever thank you enough?

For the arched windows that were my silly prayer and you did not fail to provide?

For the west-facing view that's inspired my art? 

From poems and fiction to a full length ballet

For the same view that taught me more about the weather and seasons than I thought I cared to learn, but now is so dear to my heart.

For the way the sunset casts golden shapes onto my walls

For the way the wind howls day and night

For the clouds I learned were coming, nearer, and nearer with a refreshing rain

For the grace that's met me in the depth of my struggles

For the the hardwood floor that supported me doing barres

For the furniture that is an all too intimate reflection of me

For the twinkle of the tree lights during Christmas

For the texture of the pearls and ribbons hanging from its branches

For the bookshelf that holds my treasures 

For the coffee table that holds my books

For the space that is all mine where I can sing and dance as I please anytime

For the quiet mornings and the quiet nights

For the friends I've made a few floors below between the same walls

For the short distance to any place I'd like to walk

For the architecture by which I pass

I wonder, have I thanked you enough...could I thank you enough?
Have I loved this place as much as its loved me?

I’m sitting here, holding my fears by the hand.
They’re so little, poor things.
I run my fingers through their curls, hold them close as they cry and cry.
Inconsolable but why?
My little ones have such big fears,
And I get it. I have big feelings too.
Though I’m older and more learned now, I get it.

But today the little ones are getting to me.
Their shrieks of terror twist my heart. 
And the words that used to comfort me fall flat.
I know them. I have heard them.
Not only that, I have seen them.
But oh my God they’re screaming. 

"He will provide... He will provide..."
He has provided...
But why are these words not piercing my heart like they used to?
I look at myself in the mirror and see terms and conditions.
Where did they come from?
There have never been conditions except “abide in me”
I look at myself in the mirror and I don’t see someone I have faith in.
But it's not supposed to be about faith in me.

My little ones look up at me.
I am also crying
I don’t want to let them down. 
So I wipe off the tears and put my faith to work.
I hope and pray that this is enough.
I of little faith...
Please, let it be enough.
I have only two fish and five loaves.

There’s depth that prose cannot navigate
Something about the rhythm and flow that links itself to the music of our beings
Something about our very own existence is poetic, it is musical
It is in the beat of hearts
The blood flowing through our veins
The firing of neurons
The grumble of our hungry stomachs
There’s music in our beings
There can be healing in music
There can be healing in poetry
One day, I will return to sharing prose
Soon enough I will string the long sentences together
But for now, I desire to play music 
For now, I desire to be in the lab, 
carefully creating medicine

Do you ever ask God for the guidance, 
wait for the guidance, 
receive the guidance, 
give thanks for the guidance, 
then proceed not to follow the guidance?

I feared not getting it right, not hearing Him right 
I feared trying and failing when I felt I couldn’t afford a failure 
Yet I was intimidated by the possible success
And so I kept falling into paralysis 

But amidst all the noise, when we shut it off and listen to the quiet still voice 
When we put aside our biases and what-ifs
-which I know is much easier said than done-
We likely have heard
We likely know what we should do 
And if not, if we fail, or *gasp* if we succeed
His grace is enough to cover us and carry us through 

Mommy! Mommy! Look!
I said, age three, bright eyed and bushy tailed
Proudly looking at the scattered toys across the floor,
at the set up on the table
The living room, and the bedroom,
the kitchen, and the bathroom

Look! Do you like it?
Do you want to play with me? 
I can cook you something!
Her expression had not changed from the scowl my eyes met

She looked around
and the temperature rose
I looked around
and the pastel colors had melted into the floor tiles. 

Pack these up immediately! You have 10 minutes!
I did something wrong, I knew
But! But! I protested
Now!

Defeated, I picked up the first box, 
Holding back tears, I put away my toys
I didn’t understand, but I learned my lesson
That night, I put away my toys

That night, I stopped playing loudly
At some point, I stopped playing altogether
But sometimes, that little girl reveals itself
As if to say 

Mommy! Mommy! Look!
At age 23, bright eyed and bushy tailed
I’ve learned how to play again
In the house, and the yard,
the venues, and the halls

Why is grief not over 
I thought once mourned it would be gone
Over it, and past it
I thought once I accepted it, I would be fine 

But there are days where out of the nowhere come the blues 
And my heart hurts 
And I miss and yearn 
And I see that thread of hope that I held 
All golden and sparkling 

I hold it in my hand. I admire it 
I run it through my fingers 
I feel the braid strands loosen and tighten 
I weave it around my fingers
I untangle it 
I hold it up to the light 
And let it relax again 

Then I feel it be snatched from my hand
It burns
It slashes 
My hand bleeds 
I bleed 
I thought I could hold it again
I want to hold it again 
But so far, every time I do, I get hurt 

Let go
Dance in the field, amidst the paintings 
I find another golden thread hanging from the music 
I can’t help but reach for it
I sit on my knees 
I think of the last time I held one like this
I feel a familiar knot in my throat and wonder if I should set it down where I found it

I wait for the day someone will hold my hands long enough for me to know I can let go
I know that one day I’ll find a golden thread and someone will ask me to let them hold it for a minute 
They’ll attach precious stones and pearls and flowers 
It will shine like I never knew it could 
They will ask, “may I?”  And I’ll let them adorn me with it 

My hands hurt for now, and there will always be scars 
But one day…one day I’ll use the same hands to count jewels around my neck
 

Crisp air, autumn leaves,
summer heat,
fresh wind.

It’s always in the in-between of seasons
that we feel that new feeling

That joie de vivre
And today is a new day for me.

For three hundred and sixty-five days I felt the air be pulsed out of my lungs.
I’d walk home at 5 and take big gulps, praying “Refresh me.”
The evening would sprint toward its end and I'd grasp 'til my knuckles turned white. 

And then at nine,
I would drag myself out,
every instinct drawing me elsewhere,
and try to take big gulps, praying “Sustain me.”

For three hundred and sixty-five days 
I looked anxiously around for pockets of life.
In the music, in the art, in the romance of it all
I’d crawl into the spaces where stories cradled me.

Shh Shh
Just a few more months
Just a few more weeks
Just a few more days.

I waited anxiously, and I waited patiently
I waited expectantly
I waited three hundred and sixty-five days

This morning, I floated forward.
I exhaled
I inhaled
I exhaled
Each breath new 
Each step light.

The sun kissed my cheeks
The birds sang good morning
The wind brushed my hair
The trees paved the path on which I stepped

Today
I am looking lovingly at the life
In the music, in the art, in the romance of it all
I am filling the spaces where stories still cradle me
“Hi, you've arrived just in time
Welcome home”

He pushes the door open 
and I see…
✨