i was scared to mourn out loud and for such a  long period of time
so i would write pieces of my longing
inside short and random text messages
or brief emails
or in glances held just a bit too long
or in long hugs to strangers
knowing i would never see them again
i would disperse my cry for help in sonnets
that i never shared
tears camouflaged by the beauty of the moon

she is sensitive
and emotional
and passionate
and present
but all the while i was just grieving.

when he notices the moon

and mentions god,

I blush and discover more ways

to love him.

i hide, only because i want to be found. 

if i didnt, i would just leave.

poems own me more than i own them.

they have a life of their own

they dont like to be tamed

or told when to come forth

or when to fall back

they are possesive

yet distant

but always lovely

the most sincere ones always show themselves when i fully submit

time like these

everyone is exposed

myself of course, and anyone who may have added any joy or pain to my life

this is the cost of loving a poet

or being loved by a poet

you will be the inspiration and lack of inspiration at all times

but poets need love too

and space

but mostly god.

for men who have forgotten how to love.

for women who have chosen to forget.

for children who are witnessing the drought.

for the elders who are weeping.

we have not given up, we have not forfeited, we are not accepting defeat. we have only exhausted every logical solution…that is why it appears as if we have gone mad.

the only true satisfaction
is in the remembrance of God
and your presence
was fooling both of us
into believing that we
could be this magical
without God

i have a league of poems that are willing to fight for you

a myriad of sonnets ready to wage war on your behalf

strong and valiant and courageous

they form a front line

that is impossible to defeat

they find pride in becoming martyrs for a cause so worthy

a ransom so wonderful

they abandon their armor to taste the truth of love.

their only weapon, their nakedness, their fearlessness

their consistency.

yet how is it, that it is never quite enough to claim victory?

covered my favorite portishead song. my son shoot the video. shout out to dominic on percussion. enjoy!

home cooked meals, home remedies, new skateboard tricks, cardiologist appointment, comforting words, new companions, new music, new album, performance residency preparation, new prayers, kind words, pink sky, black nights, new recipes, vitamins, yogurt, granola, bible, hadith, water, love, heels, god, memories, aches, chills, dreams, naps, art, doubt, success, tears.

I was gonna write a poem and post it as a day 11 entry, but I thought that it would be best to document yesterday’s joys because not only was it my daughters third birthday it was also my parents 40 anniversary.

I’m grateful for all the love I have been able to witness and share with these special people and I’m especially happy that my lord placed them in my life as family. it’s a blessing that is too much to describe with words.

praise god for the goodness that joins us, and the love the embraces us from every angle.

all this to say that yesterday and today I haven’t had a minute to myself to tend to the 365. I had family come in and I have been tending to them and learning and loving and growing and creating memories.

day 12 on it’s way.

“be good to your family y’all”

praise be to the lord
of love, that I was found fit
to be her mother