Tonight the moon will be super, tomorrow my mom would have turned 66. Spring has come, another season on the horizon, marking time. All of this—and my body is screaming, feeling something that I keep typing and deleting and typing and deleting (and so on).
I am having a day where words fail, then flood, then fail again. In order to just get them out (they are dragging their tin cup along my heart cage) I will just let them loose. Like the wise Yusuf (formerly Cat) sings
Oh I can’t keep it in,
I can’t keep it in, I’ve gotta let it out.
I miss you mom. I need you. Right here (taptaptap) on the sofa beside me. Count my freckles, stroke my hair. Tell me how much you love me and remind me that I matter.
I miss you dad. I don’t want to do all this now. Questions questions questions, and no one here to answer—or at least tell me what I hoped I would always hear from you, but never did. Why didn’t you put down on paper when you left what you wanted your legacy to be? You left and I am faced with the same damn truth as when you were here—and it hurts.
Full moon with your light so bright, your pull so fierce—can’t you leave me alone … please? No? Well, capitol F Fuck.
Then Lord hear my prayer and come Holy Spirit come. Drag my heart along through whatever and wherever it needs to go. Give me courage to be weak, give me patience to be kind. Send your angels and pray that I might see their feathers upon approach.