All posts filed under: Looking out

The Ax You Carry

Early summer in Texas. I travel the winding pathways of this ripening year: through fallen petals, overgrown archways and green grass fields browning under a relentless sun, through leaves on trees that seem to open and fall between one heartbeat and the next. I have hung up my winter hat, cloaked in leathered skin, knees snagged by brambles, boots caked in mud, my steps embarrassingly unsteady, moving slowly through the quiet landscape of an anxious albeit healing mind. It is not a paved trail. The pathway narrows and rises, dips back, veers forward, then back again. My destination lies somewhere ahead: I can smell the fire of a welcoming hearth, feel the pleasing breeze between the humid air, see the golden glow through the glass of my window guiding me toward something stable, something certain. The warm summer nights delivering me strength of mind, body, and spirit. The voice inside tells me I am getting there. I am getting there. I have put this journey on hold for too long, dismissing it with distractions, working …

On Ambivalence & The Paths In Between

A blue pair of shoes came in the mail today, though there will be no aisle to walk down. Part of me recalls sooner times. Times when the air was thicker and there weren’t so many choices to take, and mistakes were absent in my mind. It isn’t until we start growing older that we realize what a treasure time was and how tentative it remains. I’ve tight-rope walked between two paths nearly my entire life, and I never made a decision to cross over, dedicate. I remained ambivalent, as so many do, out of fear, or maybe even a bit of arrogance. There were days when I woke up, not knowing who I was, now there are days when I wake up wondering who I could have been. Yet still there will be the day that I don’t wake up at all and I look inside myself now and wonder if it all even mattered…. Wonder if my life was or will be relevant to someone in some way, or if it will just …

Of Hell & High-Rises

There are no words to explain that alone feeling I get when sitting outside on my steps looking unto the alleyways in the bleak-half darkness, the lights of the city combating that of the moon’s own glow. Stray cats run and meow, meow, in fights and dart across the landings, their shadows cast in a higher statue than they’d ever be in day. I watch the smoke rise high from my fingers, I breathe in and out the cold. An ambulance leeches by, and bums lurk seeking shelter under the rooftops that I silently watch them from, taking it all in. Rustic, pissed on grandeur. Cables cross like Hindu lines of ancient texts across the sky; old sneakers dangle from them like youthful suicide. A Ford Focus lurches in front, her headlights menacing, break my romanticized gaze, and here I am again, in nothing but my 21st century reality where everything is candy coated vomit, shined, plastered, and spun into something of ‘value.’ There is no lesson to be learned from this, there is no …