tatters of closure

I am sitting at Diedrich’s Coffee (the gay one), having just finished my decaffeinated, non-fat Mayan Mocha. My new army green hoodie from the GAP (that I look adorable in) having just had some of my Mayan poured down its front. The question I have now is which is more appropriate—forcing others to view my now stained clothing or take it off and make them endure my sleeveless Xena shirt beneath? Outside the picturesque windows, the first snow of the season is falling. Fall will soon be over, and winter will be upon us. I am not ready for fall to be done, however, it does mean that I will get to put up the Christmas tree soon, so that is joyful! As ever, the workings of our world cause me to be ponderous. Will my life take a hint from nature and enter a new season of its own? Will I wake one quickly approaching morning, look in the mirror and see that I have finished the transformation and am ready to emerge as the new creation that will inhabit this body for the next segment of my existence?
I am trying to bring that occurrence about. In addition to counseling, wrapping up my larger writing projects, I have also decided to catch up with my scrapbooking. I was up until three on Sunday morning working on my ‘closure’ relationship page. There were certain items that I have had within arm’s reach at all times whenever I am at home for the past four months. They are now safely enshrined in their protective temple within my scrapbook. Through tears, tape, ribbon, and paper, I enclosed all the hopes, promises, and dreams that I shared. I laid them to rest. They are there as witness that it wasn’t all a dream and as proof that someone really loved me, if only for awhile. My life as a scrapbook—why is it so many of us find such a variety of ways to document our existence, chronicle our loves and loses, immortalize our journeys through this life?



love, the passage

the breath of love, lips upon my brow
the promise, whisper of soul-mate in my ear
the safety found, powerful arms around my chest
the grasp of hope, fingers interlocking mine
the hint of eternity, walking side by side

Questions of intention linger now
Questions of heart crushing fear
Questions of worth and significance stealing all rest
Questions making every moment spent looking for a sign
Questions only brought on by love that has died

now all that is left, reverberating vow
now love’s most tender expression, unending tear
now soul-mate/companion/lover, mythical quest
now empty arms/empty eyes, insatiable pine
now sun and moon still rise and set, hearts lied

--bjw