This Beautiful Mess

storm at top of the pines
Skiing this morning

Skiing this morning

From beneath this Beautiful Mess
I have just cracked open

The sound of the wind is like a freight train
reminding me of the helicopter crash in southern Cal, and
the fire that came towards us

My heart
a drum.

Roaring through the trees and burying the mountains in black sky
This storm –
the ferocity of it –
I beg it to blow harder

I beg it to blow harder
so that I can scream at it for all it has done to me,
All that I worked my entire life to come back from,

When you come from violence, you spend the rest of your life seeking exhilaration.

This storm, the middle of it,
is familiar
It reminds me of how
it could crush me with the crack of a Ponderosa branch

I don’t care.
You’re just like the surf
just like the fire,
just like the way the snow fell down the mountainside
and buried my friends.

I have done my best climbing from this place
of surrender/of not caring.
Whipping off a cliff can be the only peaceful place.

I don’t want to die in your snow
or your fire or surf,
before I see my son on his path
before I grow old.

Yesterday I said “No” to someone and now everything has cracked open

Now everyone’s eyes are speaking to me
of their playfulness and secrets.
Now I am collecting friends with sad eyes
and giving them my love

 

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