Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

During my childhood years, my mother told me more times than I can count, that I was responsible for my own happiness. And that there was never any excuse in life to be bored, at least not for long. I took this to heart. As an adult now, I cannot imagine ever being bored. I am seduced by so many things in life: ideas, places, people, projects, words, books, food, is a most lovely sort of longing.


One voice pulls me out onto the dance floor
slips an arm around my waist coaxing
my legs in new directions, keeping time
with an insistent violin, or another voice sits with me
in a shadowed corner, adorns me with dark glasses and
nourishes me with wine that tastes like tart apples.
Still, a different voice envelops me in quilted layers,
blessing me with dreams too heavy to carry.
Another slips through the sweet needles
of flowering rosemary and eases under garden gloves
until I must stop watering and photograph
the silence of plants growing.

These voices:
tenuous yet seductive
always rattling in my throat
chanting in my ears.

I am all of them, even those
I cannot yet hear.

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