leaning in to loneliness (bikram meditations)

Maybe I’ll always have this sadness.
Maybe I always have.
A heart that’s honest
never stops loving, never stops longing,
never grows out of being lonely.
I’ve always had this sadness in my hands,
a nostalgic film shrink wrapped to my skin.
Day to day I assign these feelings to passing situations,
people, circumstances that are always changing
but never changing is the feeling of weight
a heaviness in my very heart
thick air in my lungs
a parched throat and I keep drinking
the water, the bubbles, the nicotene, the THC
won’t quench it. Prayers precede more tears
and for a moment there is relief
but it’s with a solemn nod, an understanding
that there is no ongoing lightness
and the sadness taps back into my soul
with a foamy head spilling over the sides.
There’s nothing more lonely than sleeping
in a bed with a friend who won’t hold you.
And so it’s reassigned to someone, something new
whether or not the facts are true
it always brings me back to you.

so much love bound up in these cells

They say
when you hug someone
there’s an energetic residue
that remains on each body
an often involuntary exchange
of the subatomic particles and waves
that comprise us -
making me, me; and you, you.

So it seems that these boundaries are blurry
Hugging is dangerous business
Kissing still more
as saliva, hormones, even viruses get in the mix.
And of course, the ultimate act of surrender
plays out in the exchange of DNA
miraculous life creation
alchemy mixing our cells in bodily fluids and tubes
to react and reproduce
someone new.
And it all starts
with a hug
or even a handshake.
You’d better choose wisely, they say
whose hand you hold
when you say, “I do.”

There is so much love
bound up in these cells of mine -
it’s not just the rational whole
of my mind or the passionate role
of my heart or the spiritual center of my soul
that loves you, no.
Each individual cell is set spinning
vibrating, dancing to the music
the rhythm and melody
that travels unseen in the air
the hands of God that
hold it all in place and
aids in the exchange of love
each cell imprinted with this longing:
skin cells to contact your skin cells
my tongue longing to feel the contours
of the roof of my own mouth as it forms
the words I love you - my throat to sense
the melodious phonetic qualities of your name
the tiny hairs that no one but God can see
deep in the dark canals of my ears
want to wiggle with the words of your response
your irreplicable voice, those waves
at that precise frequency and shape
my retinas want to reflect your face
brain cells bursting with
all the things to do and say
each muscle preemptively tense
in the premonition of your passionate grip
limbs longing to tangle themselves in you
even the dead cells of my hair resurrect
with the longing to run through your fingers.

Won’t you come, oh won’t you come
and encompass me
and the afterglow of this fire show
will light the way for all to see
that there really is love in this world
after all.

i am a glass

I am a glass, filled.
The sugar, ice, and tea
are already inside of me.
The spoon comes in, starts to stir
these ingredients.
Condensation drops slide down my side.
Your hand holds my gently curved,
cold, hard side.
The spoon is laid on the table,
your hand still clutching,
lifting me to your lips
for a long, refreshing drink.
My side softens to your grip,
the heat of your hand,
molding, then melting like the ice,
folding, until like the sugar
I dissolve into the liquid,
the watery tea pooling
in both of your now cupped hands, pulling
with lips into your mouth
and swallowing down your hot, smooth throat.
I am a glass, consumed
by you.