A good friend wrote this recently, It’s beautiful. Thanks Julia.
Sometimes I think about certainty,
and how no matter how far I venture, on any given day to the outside’s of myself,
that you could certainly remind me of the way back.
some kind of eternally lit path,
And Remember that day we all sat in a circle,
huddled and torn, sick with the idea of Freedom,
and what it must taste like?
well, friends most days I feel like we’ve found it.
Somewhere between those who play the music, and those who simply play along.
we found it.
stumbled upon something worth singing about.
For Autumn suddenly sounded like learning to talk with your eyes closed.
listening- the exact opposite of Half-heartedly,
toes accidentally touching,
and lists of the things we just dared to love lying still and silent.
heaving like a chest, rising and falling in the quest for breath.
on our sturdy Starbucks tabletop. eye lids tilted, and all of our knees sat fully exposed, not quite knowing what it meant yet to be cold.
And Autumn began to marvel at how more and more our songs, began to sound oddly similar. somewhat synchronized. tantalizing close to becoming identifiable, when worn on the outsides of our clothes.
Summer, became these ceremonial get-togethers,
all those times we’d get together, transforming one single space into an enlightening celebration, dimly lit, back room kind of gatherings.
that was mine, and this was ours,
we OWNED liberation.
And allowed our youth to scream entirely for itself!
everything else suddenly like a side-note..
Home, health, hope,
all that mattered was the heart, and how easily it knew how to ache.
getting together gave life,
The exact opposite of corruption.
rather, the permission to wonder about things.
those worrisome days slowly turning into wonder worthy nights.
And for my list of first’s, I owe them first and foremost to all of you.
You know, Someone once told me NEVER FORGET this time, because we wear our souls entirely on the outside’s of ourselves.
so no matter how far I, or any of us venture outside of our skin on any given day,
we will certainly take the time to remind you of the way back. some kind of an eternally lit path maybe,
and maybe just maybe, we exist for the lonely.
a common ground, ground like the existence of a garden, in the back for the sole purpose of existing at all.
I think we grow things.
or maybe that’s just me.
For on Autumn days like these, when water fills up my moccasins, and sadness has seeped into the spaces where I forgot to zip up my backpack,
I just stare at my seasons, and wonder what they might look like without all of you.
For I owe winter’s, and Autum’s, and Summer’s, and Spring’s to all of those who let me in, showing me an era of remembering things.
and for once everything feels certain,
for no matter how far I venture on any given day outside of myself,
we will certainly simultaneously remind ourselves of what lonesome can look like,
hearts huddled like lost things, And lungs silently screaming in the quest for breath,
Yet, all of us taking refuge in one big beautiful mess.
This is Dedicated to, All those babes I know, and all those who have a good time in their clothes.
this is for my friends, the most beautiful people I know.
this is for all of you.