Being alone

It is so interesting how we are designed.
It was not good for man to be alone.
In this way I am like man.
Living amongst people so constantly that
I cannot do without
To sit in silence by myself
No one around
No dog even
Is to destroy my inner being
Even not in silence
So I go to the most crowded places
and sit
Not necessarily with anyone
but around someone
So I do not go insane with loneliness
Even one person seems to be one too little
The more, the merrier?
The most the best
Only one other person is left in this room...
I think I'll head outside soon.

to be married

in my arms he lays, chest against my stomach, head against my shoulder, breathing against my chest

i watch his head rise with my own breathing and feel the warmth of his on me, in sync

i cannot imagine anything more serene or more amazing than this moment

resting, i don't know if he is asleep or not but i will be soon

and the warmth from his body is now my body's warmth

and the beat of his heart is now my heart's beat

and the life in his body is now the life in mine

we have become one and i will sleep soundly, even if just for tonight

This is why i paint

There it lays

blank

open to any possibility my mind and hand can create

asking to be something it is not

asking to tell stories

to show tears

or joys

or any untold emotion

and i listen to its pleas

i sit down

i begin to draw

never knowing where my pencil will take me

my mind rushes with ideas, images, colors, lines, shapes

they flow through me

out of me

onto the begging, blank canvas

and then

then the magic comes

a burst of color from an ever eager brush

strokes and form 

a rhythm begins on the blank canvas

my painting slowly becomes a song

it sings and pulsates

every note a new stroke of color

and when it's all done

i have created

and it has been created

arlington national cemetary

we step through laughing

and then become solemn

the air itself seems sad

thick, hard to breathe

and there they are

pillars and pillars of white graves

all with a name

as we make our way up

we dare not speak a word

we trudge up the hill

tears creep up into my eyes

and i look out

on each grave

i imagine, as i do normally

but more painfully as each grave

forms into the person it holds

all in uniform

some from a long time ago

some very recent

each stares ahead as white as their gravestone

so many are so young

i clench the hand of my own military man

we are so young

we are so lucky

we are back together

some are older, standing prouder and stronger

the younger ones have pride too

but behind the pride sits fear

i turn to my own

"you should be proud of what you are"

"i am" he says looking out "i am"

and holds me close

waiting

I'm here.
i AM here.
waiting.
my soul...
waiting for yours
i am waiting for your arms
to come around me
and restore me
to who I am.

Longing

Longing.
People don't say that word often.
People read it.
in poems,
in sentances of lust,
in phrases of heartache.
but people don't say it.

I do.
I long for you.
my heart feels a longing for you to return.
I need you.

sleeping

I used to like it, prefer it in fact. Closing my eyes in the darkness, under blankets, warm, cozy, and alone. Sleeping solitarily.

And now i fear i cannot sleep without

you with me