honey & lime

Litanies of Wonder

1. I am filled with this desire to expose my body to that light. A compulsion to wake it, despite this loneliness & that cold & the quiet ache in the backs of my knees. I’m sure that today it will storm, suddenly & unexpectedly & we will be caught off guard by this return to rain & wind. We will think of the sun, just yesterday peeking out from behind the cover of cloud. We will think of the sun & will find ourselves bodies in constant search of the warmth of the sun. Someone asks me if I know the difference between love & tenderness, between that ache & this loneliness. I am not sure if I do.

 

1. Last night the rain took me, trembling & unceasingly delicate. It rains so often these days, a violent storm always moving in & out. I want to jar the tenderness of loving my sorrows with that rain& this makes no sense, I know. I know. But look, here is my mother's empty seat, the blank embrace we exchange when one of us finds the courage to call. I am trying to remember the last time I saw that light rounding out the corner of my mother's laugh, but I couldn't tell you. I couldn't tell.

 

1. I have written this poem before. This litany of wondering where my father is now & wondering if he remembers my name. He used to braid the tangled mess of my curls so gently, careful not to touch the bruises on the sides of my face, & I loved him for his tenderness. I have forgotten his name, his voice – only his hands are stuck with me now. Hands quietly braiding plumeria into my hair.