in a room where I dreamed many dreams.
Eyes closed
and now I fly awake
over the cities.
Mapping time in moments
swooping in and out
of memories
on the street corners
in the intimate rooms
in my living classrooms
in so many ladiesrooms
from my bird's eye
I recall all of your eyes
up close behind my eyelids.
Nine years and fourth months
- half of my living memory -
of eyes and cheers and sing-a-longs,
cafe chats and wine philosophy,
and heavy hearts and so much hummous,
gone in a 45 minute stretch down the 401,
along the silhouettes of trees
that witness me,
ever faithful
I am grateful...
Their roots teach me
what commitment looks like
and their leaves teach me
the lessons of seasons when they whisper
"It's time to fly,
the sun has shifted
and so will be
the place you land,
but there again you'll stand.
You were made to move
and made to rest
so when you can,
move
rest
move
rest
you'll know when,
when you learn to listen
to the seasons."
Ears open,
eyes open.
And honestly
I feel all the feels.
And honestly
every fiber of my bones,
the earth walking around,
is full of
where I pressed my barefoot print on
Victoria Park island,
the graveyard where I ran,
the sunrise over the rails,
waking up in so many arms, warm,
and where my heart beats now
eyes open...
in a room where I dream new dreams, awake
to the dream of now,
thank you for all
you shared with me.
Honestly
I've learned that I make a mark
and that time moves.
You are a real dream.
And I am.
