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Two weeks ago I performed an original piece at an open poetry night. My buddy hosts these poetry readings, entitled "You're All Going to Die", on a regular basis and I have been a big supporter since day one. Sometimes I read something funny, sometimes I aim for intense; I always shoot for authentic.
This last time I performed a piece that hit very close to my bones. It came to fruition over a period of four weeks, words scrawled on the page whenever the inspiration hit me. Sometimes I have to drive myself to the dark side, pull myself to the depths to find the words that I need, the words that lie below in the black. Most of the time I just wait for a night in, a night when my social shell is weak or tired, and my doubts prevail. It takes less exertion then; I merely need to look down at my heavy boots and I drop to the place I need to be. I scavenge all that I can carry, and I empty it onto the page.
I memorized my piece, which was surprisingly easier than I worried it was going to be, and I am so glad I did. I performed my poem to a room full of strangers, friends, best friends, and other writers. It wasn't a recitation as much as a sermon. I was speaking the truth as I know it, spitting the truth, and I didn't have to worry about the words getting mixed up or the lines getting tangled. The truth is the truth, no matter what order it is shared. I preached and I cried. Of course I cried. When I returned to my seat it was hard to control the shakes and the aftershocks of emotion, but people touched me with their fingers and their eyes and I was warmed.

Let me tell you about the force of my love.
It is fierce and uncompromising and sometimes it is even violent.
But not violent in an angry way,
Violent in a Lady way.
If you don't shut your door tight, and block out all the light,
my love will break it down, rush through the ground, and knock you around.
I'll try to lock up as well, to block the swell.
I am adept at holding it back. I am quick to rope it in.
Disguising isn't lying. But I keep on trying
to find a way to live without filters, without borders, without such strict order. Spread it out.
Stretchability over volatility.
Dispersion leads to less aversion.
Less brunt impact is the goal of the day. The goal of the week.
Make my love more meek.
Sharing, not lambasting, breaking up the clots and untying all the knots.
I will try not to assail you, but I may fail you,
because I can't always win.

I am she as you are she as you are me and we are all together.
We are a community,
a family.
I am your sister and your daughter and your mother
and I love you.
You are my brother.
You are my boy.
My girl.
I will reach my arms out as wide as I can
And I will hug you and your hurt and your joy
As hard as I can and for as long as I can.
Until you shake me off, almost uncomfortably,
because it is hard to know what to do when you are
squeezed that forcefully.
I want you to know that you are beautiful.
This thing we are in,
this mass of love, happiness, difference, anger, spirituality,
laughter, connection,
is massive.
I will absorb your darkness if you will
absorb my light.
I also want some of your laughter,
and you can take some of my anxiety.
Sometimes things can be hard for me to shake off,
to let go,
but when you take it from me you can throw it out
the passenger window and it will dissipate in the breeze
As if it was always lighter than air.
Look around you, open wider, and become a part of it.

Today I am bamboo.
Yesterday I was not.
Tomorrow, I'm not sure.
There isn't a tree in the world that grows as straight as bamboo.
Today I will not bend.
Blow on me, push on me, try to break me with your words.
Today I stay the same.
My roots run deep and thick
And underneath it all is God,
And me.
And God.
Seriously . . .
Go ahead and try to uproot me.

Just outside the city is another world. Yesterday I felt a little bit like Alice except that instead of falling down a rabbit hole (Are rabbit holes ever that big, I wonder?) I found myself climbing strategically placed logs and rocks up a steep mountainside. Though she never complained, I am sure my hiking companion was sick and tired of hearing me rant about the wonder of it all. For some reason, I forget that mere miles outside of our urban lot exists forests and lakes and gigantic trees. GIGANTIC trees. I pretended to be all science-y by pronouncing the ages of the surrounding trees, even though I was just throwing large numbers out there because it sounded plausible given their daunting size. But I bet you that they are pretty darned old.
And waterfalls!! Despite the lack of recent rainfall, you could still hear them roaring around the bend. They sound just as awesome as they look.
Just outside the city is a different kind of culture, a different point of view, and a different landscape. It's easy to forget, but so great when we remember to open ourselves to new experiences and surroundings.