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In between waking and dreaming
Of drunken stars and white silences,
Their gazes articulated what they felt
With words that would never be born.

for W.

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On Loss and Recycling

I've learned to accept that we need to adjust, that making decisions is also part of growth and survival. I've come to live with the dying of one part of me that belongs to the past and the resurrection of the parts that have transcended the pain.

In a way, there's the struggle to survive in spite of always feeling a helpless sense of loss. I simply comfort myself with the promise of a future. Its urgency of salvation, this need to recycle--evaporating the past as I move on, if only to return changed, falling joyfully to the depths below.

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