for Leyla


It happened just like that . and suddenly . aftermath . on the way home . words pour out of my head . before I can rummage paper and pen from my bag . emotions rebel like runaway fireworks . untamed and unpredictable . driven and overloading . a culmination of years colliding . worlds breaking and reforming . raising mountains . volcanoes . erupting . let it all spill . hope my pen can outrun the lava . eyes aglow . head still trying to wrap around it . hard to pin liquid to paper . let the words drop like the first heavy drops of the rainy season . drops from the distant salty sea . welcome and threatening at once . and all I do is watch . stand on the great plaines and wait . for the waters to rise . within 2 & 1/2 hours I am soaked through . gone from the distant longing . to up-close details . some of what I'd been missing . exciting and scary . unbelievable and unbelievably real . heart racing and heart-stopping . and still my pen runs . pure adrenaline now . running with the moment . I dreamt prayed wished for . years on end . lifetimes between then and now . 18 years in fact . timing is key . never before this moment could right have felt as it does right now . amidst my confusion . dismay and disarray . hand cramping under the intensity . and I have barely begun this chronicle . this day hour minute . when the past slammed into the present . and it has never been more present . we talk . really talk . delve right in . into the meat and potatoes of things . considered the courses we filled ourselves with . and how much we shared across the world's wide table . unaware . spinning in parallel universes . so absorbed I just realized I am on the wrong train . wrong track . and still I've never felt more on track . on a path intended . in God's graceful hand . and my exuberance can hardly contain itself . within lines . or the confines of letters . language . this feels primal . intrinsic . more somehow . and I am sure it is . even as my blood jumps to caution me . jaded fear rises . must hush it now . know better . such certainty so rare . but it breathes in me . emotions run the gamut and back . feasting like buzzards on the apex of this moment . this connection . cosmic or subatomic . this rabbit hole . it feeds something in me . both ferocious and pacifying . like exhaustion . or sex . purer still . a rekindling . a past I tried to let go . years unsuccessful . heart unwilling . and still it's naming eludes my pen . but it is coming . on it's own terms . in it's own time . and I have been prepared . through it all . the pain . anguish . uncertainty . darkness . embarrassment . desperation . fear . rejection . sadness . each has brought me here . to this spaghetti junction . this mental emotional spiritual crossroads . perhaps only faith can carry you into a moment like this . through a moment like this . where doubt looms . laughing . where fear shudders . like a distant but nearing thunder . where anguish of the ego strikes . random and jagged in the sky . and the earthquake of the moment threatens to swallow me whole . finally home now . safe . like a peaceful magic . Leyla purrs into my lap . and the irony astounds me . how I've clung to her after all these years . amazement distracted my hand thus far . but I am nearing the taste . the watery words fill my mouth . thoughts still unsettled yet . cloudy waters . this rip tide has ripped me open . tossed me head over heels . into a realm I can hardly define . still I write . through the cracks . at nine my world cracked . I was shattered . into 3 jagged pieces . past present and future me . a kaleidoscope forced upon my eyes . new terms . unknown paths . unforeseen journeys . and never could I have seen 18 years bringing me here . back to a world where I am 9 again . we pick up where we left off . only now we're adults . and life is infinitely more complex . much more to the puzzle . spread on the floor before me . I am slowly piecing it together . perhaps once it would have been more than I can handle . now it is what was meant to be . the connection that eluded for so long . as if lost . it has reappeared . through the fog like a lighthouse . instantly recognizable . instantly changed . course driven and recharged . those initial moments where nothing else mattered . nothing else stirred . but us . as we spoke we were candid . brutally and beautifully willing . to let the world pour from us . like fountains . finding worth in the recycling waters . liquid lessons . accepting the self . in tiers of explanation . we exposed ourselves . bravely and boldly . without filtering . we ripped open our tea bags . read them aloud and to each other . or all we could make of them . shared the highs and lows . and all we could squeeze between . and there is so much to muster . so much 18 years can hold . like loose change and lost things between pillow cushions . hidden and forgotten but there . beyond the surface . 2 & 1/2 hours could never be enough . say enough . but it's a start . reconstruction on the horizon . for all the tears shed . of loss . of regret . of turmoil . of solitude . of distance . wanting to turn back . go back home . to the safety of the past . back to simpler times . back to knowing what a real friend is . so few known since . left wondering dreaming wishing . aching for the first real person I knew . first real person I lost . first real friend I cried over . first person I looked to when I looked back across the pond . memories consumed this chasm of me . never faltering it rose up in me again and again . this unwavering dissatisfaction . this hope . this void . this dormant world that bubbled in veins below the skin . she marked me . like chalky images on the hills in the countryside back home . her face etched in my pituitary . petrified like wood to stone . and though grateful I longed for the living doll . to find each other's knowing eyes . to hear her voice . to share again the world as we know it . long time coming though I never saw it coming . been lost in this big wide world . taken out with the tide . how could we ever reconnect . across oceans . and new land . and moves . and disasters . and wars . and just living . and 18 long years . how . there is time now to ponder the how . all in due time . I wonder at the wonder of God . l linger in the afterglow . of all that has been unearthed in a matter of hours . on a cold January evening . when nothing out of the ordinary was planned or expected . how I am humbled and thankful . exhilarated and moved . to write and document the strong vent that blows . deeper than any winter chill . my sails at full mast . allowing this lively wind to drift through me . around me . and come morning I will wake on a bright new shore . a familiar island . one I've never been to . a place where I am strangely home again .

01/27/2009

Author's Note: Style adapted from Wang Ping's poem "No Sense of Direction" featured on NPR's All Things Considered.

I appreciate any comments and feedback.

(wtg workshop with Jon)

Posted on 02/16/2009
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