Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 16


What I Heard Through the Snow

The commentator’s voice fades in and out as the reception is lost and found among the static of my drive home. In here is a pattern, a connect the dots matrix; I try to feel my way too as I weave past the slow and stubborn traffic. Like a call from the wilderness distorted through a storm, my frantic thoughts obscure, sometimes distort the content, the intent, the soul of a message I so desperately need. Broadcast warnings, safety suggestions, help and hope are torn to slivers and rewoven in my careworn brain. The distraction of the road allows the subliminal heart beat to tattoo in my ear then my chest, all the way to my toes, bodily acceptance overpowers my relentless mind and clarity is achieved, no matter the drifts.



Lay a hand on improbability


*


ALONE IN A NEW WAY

I am restored.
I have my sanity like a Spring coat
I am not sure I need it
But it’s nice to have nevertheless.

I prayed for this state of reason
Believing it would give me entree
To a world where I was a late arrival
To a party I am no longer sure
Will ever take place.

I stand in the entrance hall
And practice new dance steps.
I search the space for prospective partners
But rarely see anyone who is swaying
To the same beat.

I am grateful for my sanity
Even if I have to enjoy it alone.