March 01, 2009
Ruby Blue Sadness
Blueberry tea. That's what I'm craving right now. You would ask why, and wonder and press, but there is no answer behind my yearning. Only a feeling, a wish, a hope for comfort.
Calling out, but they will not be comforted. My akathisia is worse these days. And the nighttime sweating returns. Waking up early. Afternoon somnolence. Quiet voices whispering in the night. Sometimes. Still.
I have little seeds growing. Little sprouts now. Heated in the artificial basking of the halogen and fluorescent lamps. There are no paths ready for the planting to begin. No beds prepared, nothing. The potatoes are sprouting already. The onions revived. Broccoli and sprouts are perking up from the winter sleep.
Peas and spinach are growing softly next to the budding blueberries. And the crocuses, the tulips... the daffodils. I can't believe I still have the daffodils from that long winter in Chicago. Five years they've survived. In a pot. In freezing kitchens, utterly neglected. On the barren deck, almost forgotten. In the ground, now, growing again.
The past is a box. You have to watch out for boxes. Boxes are trapping. Confining. Comforting. They are limiting. Inflexible. Certain. Boxes choke off the complexity of life required to be honest about all that we are. And have been.
I have been thinking about moving again. The logistics. To escape and be far away. To hide from reminders and such. To not visit the familiar streets, wish for voices so close and not, imagine how memory will reshape itself back into the promise of hope and future. This is not how it continues on. This wish for more. This memory.
Posted by Sean at March 1, 2009 01:16 AM