From the notebooks

From the notebooks


" I Am Open To All Annunciations"

Sleep writes itself on the backs of my eyelids   Outside, the ocean catches the moon.


"A falling star is God's eye, drawing closer to earth so as to see better." AK

All night the wind pounds the palmettos, surf boils the moonlight
taking her deep below the surface.

In the morning, the moon slightly torn,
sails casually south over buildings as though protecting herself
from the north winds. Sands stings my face, my legs. Who knew there were
so many shades of gray?

Sea foam peels itself from the dark sand, floating...

My stomach turns with the force of the storm, jolted by the unease of your silence.
"All is ok, Ma." You text. I feel your distance as you move into your own dark journey, where
I cannot go.

"Love never loses its way home." Tattooed on my ankle before you left for Africa.

The wind continues to rip the sand from the beach. It is 0 degrees in Boston. Terror strikes Paris.
Center, center. I am here.

"Where do your fears nest? Do your hungers enter your throat? Does the spoon of hunger moan, your funny hares, your timid fawns, your quiet doves, where do they sleep? The planet dropped from your hands. All your paths in a single pocket." Anna Kemienska