July 7, 2020

a homeopathic remedy for longing **

Return to the edge of the ravaged garden, vines stripped while you slept.
Stand mute at the piles you keep adding onto, the leftovers you keep forgetting, 
the trash can that keeps filling and filling and filling. Pause in the brute light 
of unmet plans, the rusty edge of old wounds, the plaintive vacancy of what you 
didn’t say and didn’t do when you had the chance. Roll these losses in your hands. 
Steep in the tea of the stain that follows you everywhere. Gather regret’s knotty fibers 
to your body and enrobe your bones in the steely wool of dread. And now,
now that you’re nearly buried by your own blight, pitch your heart to the sea. Watch it
bobble and weave in an unseen current, tip and tumble as the wind rakes through.
Remember, there is no right answer to where you are going, except forward.

** I borrowed this title from an Instagram post by photographer and writer Lisa Field.