She had everything that mattered
What she had done, she let go
and grabbed again.
Digging deep with skin-cell nails, she grabbed too hard
and the rock slid between her fingers.
The weight fell like a bird.
Sometimes I discover myself writing just to block out the noise around me. The harder I write, the more effective the pen will muffle my surroundings and scratch a distraction into my brain. I apologize if that doesn't make sense, but it is the best visual I can muster. The volume is turned up to a different level on every page. If you looked at my journal, you'd see some pages drilled into, while others are unmarred, mute.
The other day, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. But if you knew the layout of my tiny abode, you'd know I never get out of any side of the bed. Rather, I crawl to the end of the pull-out sofa and step carefully into the kitchen where I can get dressed. I can't explain exactly why I felt off. Something must have occurred in one of those forgotten nightmares; maybe a friend died in the dream or maybe the grocery store was clean out of ice cream.
I do recall a dream from the night before, which may be the kindling behind my mood lately. Unlike the wintry air right now, my dream unrolled on a vacant warm beach. I managed to climb down a small cliff and walk on a narrow strip of sandy shore. I figured I would work my way home via the sand, rather than up high on the cliff. Calm waves and a buzzing blue sky filled my senses - that is, until I got too close to the water and the current seized my ankle. Like a monster, the ocean dragged me down even though I was only toe-deep in the water. The current squeezed my body as if I were an orange destined for a Tropicana bottle and wouldn't let me swim back to land. I paddled and flailed my arms, even though I knew I wasn't a strong swimmer, even in the calmest of conditions. Exhausted, crying for help and feeling near death, I somehow landed back below the cliff.
Whether I relaxed and let the water filter through my pores, carrying me in the right direction, or if the dream said "Fine, you win this time, back to land you go" I do not know. One hint of advice from this nighttime therapy session is that I must allow myself to fall like a bird. Trust that I am not broken. Trust that I am built to soar and perch on every magnificent view it's time to rest. The wind will catch under my wings and pick me up when the distance is right. Weight prepares us to unearth our equilibrium when all the forces appear to oppose our path. Use that heaviness and laugh at gravity when you fly down from the cliff and float on the lake.
She has everything that matters
What she has done, she lets go
and grabs again.
Digging deep with skin-cell nails, she grabs
and the rock slid between her fingers.
The weight fell like a bird.
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