Art by Dan-Ah Kim
Once again . . .
The promise of sanctuary.
The insolence of perfectionism.
or, should I say
the sanctuary of perfectionism?
Whatever I name it,
it beckons.
This time, I decline the offer.
I no longer constrict myself.
no more armor.
Instead, I crack myself and
open wide the mouth
of the wound.
what pulls me, now?
I am inclined towards
the quiet wonders
that sit before me
in silence and listen.
what do you want me to say?
In the space between us,
the softness glistens
like stardust.
I can cry, if I want. I can let
the image reflected in my eyes dissolve . . .
like millions of undulating raindrops.
But, I cannot lose that image.
Or, can I?
what pulls me?
Nothing is permanent.
Not this.
Not anything.
I sit it out. Let it pass.
let it go.
The heavens are here.
Stars. Stars. Everywhere.
