Almost didn’t make it out of Buenos Aires:
Fell asleep at the gate, emotionally drained,
woke up at last call
shaking like a drunk,
no control of my body,
my step unsteady, I forced myself to fly
even though I walked as if I couldn’t control where my feet
were to land and in which direction.
I could – but I felt under a spell
as if something-someone wouldn’t let me go.
Almost didn’t make it back from Bolivia.
Lingered at the threshold of a disappointing dream
searching for meaning,
Lingered in my shower’s cleansing heat
hoping for healing,
Lingered over my aunt’s homemade yogurt
groping for feeling
The flight’s closed, he said.
Let him go, they cried.
Shaking, I pleaded, like a refugee,
You must let me fly. Please.
My work here is done
and my life there goes on.
The gate opened, I slipped through.
Again, I am in the great between,
gates opening and closing around me
and I stumbling through…
what to?
A woman who loves me, whom I adore…
we are searching for more.
A megalopolis: fascination, inspiration,
opportunity, community, generosity, be what you want to be;
isolation, repulsion, contamination,
arrogance, decadence, inertia… I try to shake it all off, be me.
Work to be done, where to start?
and if begun, where will I end up?
Much as I love this liminal, I dread
getting stuck neither here nor there.
So I seek the land beneath me and all around
for a sign saying HERE!
Land, lay foundation, build your home,
grow the garden of your dreams
so that you may fall asleep inside or out,
open and close the gates at will.
