San Diego

Slow Brewing Words
Instigated by others afflicted
By the gift, the one that sets us apart and together,
Solitude like air, needed to breathe and fuel for the fire

A sigh for relief, a salute, a prayer, praise
The room to breathe makes it possible to hear the space
Between the notes
The connection, the phrasing of spirit
Jumbled flavor light and shadow, the bright attack of a note
Stops all observation, yes, yes,
The connection between passions, sound and words,
The art of a life, imperfect, human,
The way to feel the divine
Not through perfection but the touch of fingers that often fail
But also find the sky.

I wonder what the trick is to using this repaired heart,
The same one that cared and broke and ached
Through the other seasons, the same one that slowed
And nearly failed because I didn’t use it to love myself
The same one that with enough air sees hope and endless connections
The one that reaches and then wretchedly slams shut
The one that can freeze rather than dream…

But is it the same heart?
They opened me and moved things around
My color changed, my numbers changed and changed again
Perception has shifted many times before and after but
The same stubborn, fearful, under-utilized being
Seems to be here.

The same heart that makes the connections between art and sky
Can cut and freeze, wander aimlessly
Miss pointed notes
The same heart that builds these stunted sentences with a love so strong
And will care little for the mundane lists

So it must be the same heart
Or just the same head that stops it from reaching out?

The lessons of finding solitude in a mob years ago
Were just a shift from being isolated in the company of others
To the freedom of floating near the void to avoid the chatter
That drowns the Voice in careless coats of neutral paint,
Until the view of hope requires scraping or
An even less gentle cultivation

We sometimes learn of the things that make
Our live richer, the surrender of ego and fear,
The embrace of art and passion,
The bond of fraternity and shared positions
And yet we crawl back to the old behavior,
People pleasing at the cost of poetry
Soul dulling stances that feel uncomfortable
Before we take them

The heart lives, beats, pumps, writes, sees, reaches, pauses,
Wonders, whimpers, fights, flies, creates, consumes and loves.

Same ol’ heart.