#6
3.28.2024 : excerpt from a letter to my dear Pigeon
I know that I don’t feel up to healing now. I know that it’s hard for me to imagine healing ever feeling right. . . From where I stand it sounds like a betrayal of my friend, like forgetting. And, god, I don’t want to be forgotten like that. But at the same time, I look down across the years, and healing has happened, an unforgetting kind, and I have grown closer, less bitter : I have shot up like a vine grown by the stake that once impaled her.
You said I could talk about anything — I really like that turn of phrase.
#5
3.17.2024 : psychic scars, a message to Effie
most days now i don't see my scars as a bad thing,
they are just things on me that are there on me,
but sometimes they get enflamed and hurt
#4
3.?.2024
A friend told me she was almost jealous of the emotional maturity that grappling with loss has given me. Jealous. I didn't know what to say. I suppose I understood what she meant : a sort of compliment. But it's come at such a grave cost.
I wish I'd said, Please don't wish for something like that. Life has no shortage of grief as it is. So please don't ask for more, okay ?
#3
3.7.2024
I felt your presence here today. Worried I might miss my chance, I rushed to take a picture before I had to go. How can I use that word, presence, when it’s always the empty spaces, empty hours, that you come to me ?
#2
?.?.2024
At least there is you
To give shape to senseless feeling
#1
backdated 6.11.2023
Su and Hen and I attended a festival for a saint held in a field by a Catholic church. In the dirt lot before heading in through the gates, taking turns focusing intensely, we described the colors of one another's auras. Su said mine was black and red. I felt shocked. I think Hen did too.