Hello again.
It’s been far too long. It’s good to be back, even if only briefly.
That’s worth a better explanation, but for now:
It’s my birthday.
And having told my parents’ stories on their birthdays, I think it is surely time for my own, but in the meantime, let me leave you with a poem I’m working on today…consider it a story, if you will, about me:
Wild Joy
I remember running hard,
up the little wooded hill with my father,
tiny legs pumping to keep up with him,
that big grin on his face as we broke over the top of the rise.
I remember standing hard,
salt-tasting rain pouring down my face,
once-tiny legs now long bracing against the wind,
on the stone pier’s end where few would dare to go, save I.
I remember dancing hard,
moonlight-maddened on the cliff’s sky-reaching height,
longing to let all senses go, go, go, and fly,
still knowing I must keep care not to risk the edge.
And I remember the wild, wild joy rising up in my heart
in all of these, and many more –
so many more, and yet never many enough –
and the freedom – long-hungered, so long awaited –
even if only for a moment, in this
strange, wild, wet, singing, world.