stay

 Sometimes I can see my energy. I know what it feels like, what it looks like, how it sounds. 

My energy is cold heat, ever burning, never warming. It burns with passion and flame and my spirit writhes, but it is silent. Inside there is a scream. Released, it will tear its way out, ripping through soul and body and there will be blood. I dance in the flame, as it consumes me and is one with me. The fire burns within and without, but my spirit is cold. 

One beat. Two beats. Breath in. Breath out. Oxygen tingles all the way into my fingertips and and toes, seeps into the strands of my hair. I am alive, but we are all dying. Death will not be cheated, only postponed. 

It comes ugly and slowly. It takes privileges that we failed to recognize as such. It is taking my father. Death is playing dirty. 

This year has brought so much loss. 

I am asking politely, as politely as I can, addressing Death as a lady would a gentleman:

Please. Please don't take him yet. Please let him stay. Just stay. Stop hurting him and let him linger. He is needed and we are not done. This journey has more miles. 

How can a cold, silent flame burn so relentlessly? On and on, it burns. Call me, text me, give me news. I feel my skin crack open like a cicada shedding it's skin in a painful rebirth. I break apart, but am still whole. I am enrobed in flame and it consumes, but I do not burn up. My mouth opens, and I cry, but there is no sound. This is grieving, this is the pre-mourning. This is the knowing and the unknowing, the awareness of the inevitable, the inability to see beyond the next hour. 

Just stay. Please don't go. Let's have the coffee we always said we would share. Teach me your wisdom. Teach me (more) how to create beautiful things out of ugly, commonplace, raw materials. Laugh with me more. Be well. 

Just

stay.

in a tree

what if

we lived

in a tree?

the strongest branches underneath, 

as strong as anything a man could build

but flexible

giving and swaying with the wind and storms

the branches above,

a canopy

green umbrella,

shelter from the rain

light filtering,

turning the atmosphere green and soft

what if we lived in a tree

everyday rejoicing in a new leaf, 

a small new beginning 

the sky above, the earth beneath

and we, in the middle

what if we lived in a tree

ate the fruit of our neighbors

but only what friendly branches offered up,

never taking more than the earth gifted

would our troubles climb our tree

or would they sit at the bottom and howl

like a mongrel dog 

waiting for us to come down

could we stay

forever

in our tree

sunrise

and sunset

in love with the wind 

gusts softened by the kind leaves

never angry, always softly caressing 

creeping between leaves and branches

to come visit us

in our tree