the weather and I are
the morning fog and
the afternoon haze
my lifelong facade
seemed to shatter
in my mind
in my heart
in my body
and fell away because
of your love for me
all that remains is who
I am and a refreshing
gentle breeze of hope
sometimes life is like
a cigar that unravels
right before your eyes
It is getting colder and
rain clouds are pressing in.
There was one bird singing;
I thought it was for me but
I don’t have a song today.
I long to sing a song I love.
I will sing again but not today.
The bird returned singing a
“When your breasts are full
and your hips are wide, you
will laugh and sing.”
I wondered if the bird sang
I’m filling out and
I don’t mean paperwork I
protrude in places
I was never who
I was supposed to be but
will be who I am
In my mind, that place where fantasy
and I meet, I watched wave after wave
crash on the shore. I saw heartache
after heartache wash away the lines
in the sand. You can’t cross a line if
it isn’t there, can you?
I looked up at the dunes. I saw a big
woman waving to me. “Come on!” she
waved with one hand while the other
kept a large floppy sun hat on her
head. On the beach the sand was hot
in the midday sun and the water was
cold but there was always wind on
the dunes. Her light sundress blew
against her side and back.
I started to walk up the steep path
from the beach to the dunes. I lost
sight of her where the path zigzagged
as I neared the place where she stood.
When I got to the top, it became clear
that the woman was me.
As I laughed and sighed, I looked at
the beach. I saw a little boy playing
alone in the sand. He looked up.
There was something about him that
said he always plays alone. As I
waved, “Come on!” I knew that the
skinny tanned little boy was me.
It was early in the afternoon.
We closed the bedroom door
and did what we said we’d do.
My wife asked me to tell her
about what happened to me
when I was a child.
I have seldom spoken about
the unspeakable, undoable,
All true. We walked through
the secret places of my
childhood sexual abuse.
When I was eight years old,
I lost a lifetime but I didn’t
learn about it until I was fifty.
You listened and loved me with
each word I spoke. You love me
for all that we will share and do.
What I know, all that I hoped for,
longed to do, and deeply desired
would never be the same as we
take a new road together that
rose out of the fire and ashes
of the unspeakable.