I haven't known what to post lately. Every glimpse I would normally share seems inauthentic because everything is so transitional right now... so fluid.
If I fill a tablespoon from the Pacific, is it fair to tell you that it is ocean?
It is, and it isn't.
I am, and I'm not. There is a lot of emptiness in my spoon of
saltwater, a lot of blankness to my page- but I write and unwrite, pour and fill, I poem and I pray that it all brings me closer to something my life needs.
Something my heart
wants.
I'm trying too hard to harness the journey, I know. Trying too hard to spoon the ocean, trying too hard to write a story where I tame and am tamed in perfectly equal measure. But it's a reflex, a grab and a clutch, when you feel like you're falling. It's a wave- it ebbs and it flows.
It's life, doing what life does, and time doing what time does, and I am okay with it all just as often as I'm not.
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