floating

slightly more than half my life away 

from the Shattering of losing you

of making decisions I second guess 

and I’m still lost, that elusive self

dodging around every corner I look

she learnt stillness and hands to herself

for if you catch her in the quiet 

lists and lyrics treading, trudging 

through the muck and mire

of a mind ever-tinged by the Breaking 

and a youth spent whence 

she learnt stillness and hands to herself

you will find her setting with the words 

she drew-draws as lines in the sand while 

she watches as the waters wash away

every chance took or not 

I can’t know what in the white space lingers

not loud, rarely voicing 

thinks and whats uncomfortably 

taking time to muddy through 

crafted trippings off the tongue

never a quick fire but still 

voicing when required and

in the hearing, rare 

assuming, seeking, requiring 

clarification and confirmation 

say what you say; mean what you mean

for I can’t know what in the white space lingers

ain’t no up an’ at ‘em here

can’t just come and go

can’t just cancel things

ain’t no up an’ at ‘em here:

why say it once when you can say it again 

and so on and so on and so on…

whence

spring melts the ice of winter

(I am a winter baby)

March, April showers bring May flowers 

and the remembrance of births and burials

the assist of Angels

I have a list 

longer than a string of days

a very complete list of to-dos

down to the tiniest screw

this list is so filling of hours

I will not complete it - ever

even with the assist

of Angels heavy lifting