witness
witness
From Clyde:
you are how i know
i can give life
make the world better
more beautiful than it was
i can give life
another chance
more beautiful than it was
you are evidence
another chance
when i thought i was inadequate
you are evidence
that i am more
when i thought i wasn’t enough
you showed up to teach me
that i am more
than i ever dreamed
you showed up to teach me
to make a world better
than i ever dreamed
you are how i know
From Alexis:
recognize
i hold onto your finger
you hold everything
i know who you are
i hold onto your finger
look directly into your eyes
i know who you are
you are me
look directly into my eyes
and spell become
you are me
and you can never leave
and spell become
the language that we speak
and you can never leave
my eyes
my eyes
recognize
the language that we speak
holds everything
What would I give to hold onto my father’s hand and and look into his eyes? These poems, and this whole part of the series layers words onto the wordless connection of care, holding, communing beyond syntax or the logic of language. I would prefer a tangible physical connection, I would prefer an unspoken gaze to any of these words. And so when I read them over, am I crying because the resonate, or I am I crying because they will never be enough? I don’t know yet. What I do know is that I too am moving towards wordlessness. One day (the song says “and it won’t be long” but I hope that it is a long time away) I too will exist in the wordless. The unspeakable beyond. And so will you. Maybe this practice is my way of honoring that while I deeply miss and long for an embodied connection with my Dad, who he is, who I am, who we are was always more than and beyond these bodies. And remains. More than. And beyond.
P.S. My every day writing practice shapes my days into vessels for generations of love. If you want support with your own daily creative practice, I’d love to be part of your journey. This is the Stardust and Salt Daily Creative Practice Intensive.