August

august surpasses
july let downs,
drying of tears.
heat waves ending
insomnia persisting.
everyone has left or is leaving.
but i promised myself i’d learn
how to stay.
 
scattered attentions,
enough reservoir to aspire
not enough to complete. 
i shed ghost writing skins, 
i’m ready to find my words.

i can’t when i feel 
this small, this broken, 
this watched, this critiqued..
so i open the front door, 
softly, without friction. 
“can everyone go?”
i’ve got some work to do
and i can’t do it with you watching me. 

i get what i asked for. 
the house is now empty.
everyone is gone. 
aloneness.
oh…. why does everything hurt?
but i had my season of sad, 
i don’t want to go back.

incense lit, 
i sit, 
and sit, 
and sit..
until
in sacred silence
i hear the call. 
“return to your self,”
Tantra whispers.
i obey. 

grass
roots.
feminine
energy.

i curate a new playlist. 
i go dancing with the girls, and
beers with the boys, 
i order diet soda, 
they respect my choice. 
their presence says
“its ok you’re not drinking, 
i’m glad you came.”       (me too..)
friday night yoga studio asanas,
are melting uk dissimilarities.
i’m starting to feel 
a little more
at home. 

“inspiration where are you?”
i keep digging. 
and digging. 
and digging. 
and it comes, 
in a teenage tv drama’s i’m too old for.
cliches but american nostalgias
wait.. is it nostalgia from youth? 
sometimes the scene
speaks how he made me feel. 
waves of ideas are coming.
i pick up my camera
and from it, 
i create. 
it feels good.

it’s all starting to 
feel really good. 

more and more
i feel like myself. 

though
one crack remains.

a fixation
with the front door. 

this time it’s not an escape.

i learn 
vulnerability 
and yearning
are one and one
the same. 

wait. 
is that him?
did you see that??
how it all slowed down? 
oh.. wait, was it just for me? damn. 
monastic discipline,  
eyes are the first to betray,
so i keep my thoughts concealed.
i don’t even know where i stand, 
i only see him. cinematic scenes.
i understand it now. 
i didn’t before. 

i lost the control i found. 

i aspire to say
once again
“can everyone go now? 
i’ve got work to do, 
i need to find my words.” 
but i look at him, and
all that comes out, is
“stay..”

it’s complicated.
but
i want him to stay. 

reground 
darling, 

reground. 
don’t come undone now. 

i don’t know where to go
so i go back to the sea
walking by memories
i didn’t know imprinted like that, 
but it did. 
and i smile. 

i don’t know where to go,
so i follow the red silk thread. 
through library doors, 
to be greeted by a long lost kindred spirit.
jack keraouc.
from cover to cover, 
i pace down the same isle
holding his words in my hands,
intaking them as if they were my own. 
motorcycles. 
Dharmic pursuits. 
the adventures. 
jazz clubs. 
the Tagatha. 
the misfits, 
the Lamas. 
but i’m here. and here hurts.
i aspire for englightenment
but maybe the wound is a little too large.
it might not be in this lifetime. 
but – “damn what a trip this lifetime will be.”
he reminds, 
i listen. 

august ends
in monsoon rains
washing doubts
longing stays. 
it’s ok.
i want it to stay. 
maybe in september
i’ll learn to be brave. 
i want to be brave. 

but for now, 
i came so far. 

that’s enough.