Part 1
seems i went to bed hours ago
hours and hours
but it wasn't hours
just seems like a long time
laying there drifting between sleep and wake
i hear my words to you
they seem clear in moments like that
between sleep and wake
and while i speak i see
i walk down a sidewalk
i'm thinking to myself that its more a matter of meandering
having no specified destination
merely traveling along the side of the road
but not a busy road
not a dark road
not a light or day road
just a road and just a sidewalk
to the left and the right are wild flowers
pink and blue and yellow
i think of how they sprouted there
all by themselves
they weren't sewn by human hands
they weren't cultivated
noone pulls the weeds that grow between them
and they don't seem to mind much
no roses or gardenia bushes
no pansies or tulips
just simple flowers
i look up and in contrast i see the winter branches
the trees have shed their leaves
and the bareness of them is striking
i think about the contrast of seasons
and two seasons existing simultaneously
i still listening to my conversation with you
some discourse
as if only just one more attempt
and i might be able to explain
or as if at last i might understand
if only i could ask the question properly
if only i could accept your answer
but that is the problem isn't it
the root of it
my inability to accept changes and losses
my inability to move past things that only i know are there
obstacles i can't manage to navigate well enough
and the image changes
and it shifts
vibratory
as often is the case
and i'm in a basement
yet more as an observer only
a woman in a rocking chair
her hair tied up in a scarf
© Rachelle
Some time in March 2011
Part 2
Part 3
