In the air,
on the surface of leaves.
Streaming down the street
into potholes.
It was in the exhale
of runners on the road.
It was like the mist, gentle yet
undeniable.
She wondered why
some still
could not see it.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
“How do you keep your heart whole?” he asked. “I can’t bear the breaking.”
“You don’t,” she whispered. “Let it crack open,
like a ruby pomegranate full of moments you have been alive.
Tear away the soft sides, let the jeweled pieces scatter.
They will be found. Picked up by the parched,
carried forward into days where hearts
will be strong enough to break, expand.”
“I am not that strong.” he said, shaking his head.
Tearing off a part of her own heart.
“Take some of my mine, you will be.”
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Spills splattered the walls.
Counters filled with clutter,
multiple piles creating a new geography in the room.
There is a relief to cleaning it all away.
Everything in order. Repair and replace.
The seduction of a new cycle, sparkling clean.
Free from marks of history.
What if we could sit with Chaos
for just a little minute?
Feel the wind in our ears.
Hearing her secrets of cleverness.
Soaking in the learning of this undone space.
Before an opportunity is erased.
A past disinfected before she can author her story
from which the plot differs from
perpetual duplicating.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2016
Right now, sitting in this chair
the distance covered remains unseen.
Many treacherous miles between your first step
and where you have now arrived.
Climb the roof. Stand tall upon it.
Without hesitation see the trodden path
streams crossed, soggy socks, sunburnt ears
blistered, lost toenails, a little bruised.
Criss-cross scratches, hillside slides.
There is no shame for the road traveled.
You have traversed
this view is for you alone.
© Alicia Grimshaw