Happiness was like an African drum with feet flowing in rhymes ’round a fire
A child’s first hold of a loved one’s finger
A stream in a desert
A rare tree in a foreign land set apart for it’s magnificence
Joy was like laughter on a hospital bed
Like justice after drawn out experiences of cast offs
Like labour for a child
Love was like conversations so pure so broken so sacred
Like light peeling off darkness in bright rooms
Love was like silence with so much said so much expressed.
I’m not attached to many things but there’s something about babies and the elderly that I’m attached to
Maybe it’s how they look at life as though they everything is a first time experience
Maybe it’s the seeming purity of their being in moments that seem to just pass on by for the rest of us “middle men”
Or
Maybe it’s how they freely express themselves, their needs and their vices
How they’re not ashamed to express their need for someone, something or someplace
How they ask for love without feeling like it deprives them of becoming something or looking a certain way
There’s this phase of aging, the in-between where we’re great at creating films about all the things we’re afraid to express but hardly the same in reality
Today I needed you so I stepped on my foot, winced and sung along to riri’s
“I don’t wanna give you the wrong impression
I need love and affection
And I hope I’m not sounding too desperate
I need love and affection love and affection…”
Should I jump in the dirt and remind myself of my child-life ways or should I bid time till my greys spring forth my light of being nothing but true to all the things, the beings I clutch inside!?
This phase, my in between without the ins betweens.
In Between
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