The Sandbox

Amnesia, Art, Healing

 

8/8/17

7:07AM

Authenticity

A scattering of dreams, each one like a charm on a bracelet strung together by nothing other than the hours straddling yesterday and today. I decide on a date to get married and cannot even remember it. I go to a foreign country, a place I’ve never been, and cry bullshit in public about some dangerous issue that I know will get me killed. I get myself, bottom line, into some very serious trouble. 

I wake sad. Par for the course these days. 

I make a cup of coffee and examine this miniature branch made out of clay by a special friend who is leaving soon. It’s so life like and inside it is hollow and there are colorful lights that twinkle in the light of dawn. It makes me think of all the purging I’ve been doing and what remains. 

What I choose to keep. 

I went looking for poetry that describes this feeling of what remains and found some deep and difficult pieces. It is grief I feel. Nearly all the time. More strongly, more identifiable. 

A

What feels good…what feels right. 

S

Writing a poem.

MLG

We feel our grief

It’s like a bridge.

Connecting the places

And moments we live. 

It straddles the years

It stretches like taffy.

If grief were an animal

It would be a giraffe-y.

S

Thanks Monkey. It’s very…you. 

MLG

No. It’s very YOU. 

A

What feels good…what feels right.

S

Nothing, A. Today or tonight. 

A

Allow, allow, allow.

I keep little these days. But what remains...remains special. 

I keep little these days. But what remains...remains special.