PASSING FOR NORMAL

Walk the line… The messy crazy bipolar line...

A blank page.
Blank
Space
Pages haunted with nothing but few
left
Sprouting nothing but words
Words drawing nothing new
The silence becomes a weight
Plum skin in my throat and purple color of fear
A belt and a book and a paper in shreds
Blank

A door on the floor and the sound of the sea
What drowned is far to be found
A silver spark where it slips through
Spilling the screams out
Molding rocks and twirling
Pictures racing through
Just a nightmare
In the space
A red feather on a blank wall
Blank

A skip and a beat and a shameless face
Shameless
Nails slitting a rip in the space
Peeling through layers of torment
Luring the gods of confusion
Crunching illusions and wrenching lies
And twitching scars under the ties
Lazy bodies on blank sheets
Blank

I pace the room
Tea with lime
Sleep is a luxury at this time
I flip through some pages
The two sides of one truth
The dawn
Saturday

Always perfect. I overslept today but woke up to a gorgeous sky. Perfect lazy Saturday.
I made spinach and mushroom stew then I went for a walk. Even in the heart of the most urbanized most automated most artificial New York I feel,

The roots of life peaking through
The pulse of nature blessing our every step
I take a minute to breathe in… everything around me
I keep it in and I walk racing...

And I think about all the things I’m hopeful for, the things I live for, the things I love. The things I am thankful for...

So without construction or structure or plans or pretenses or pretexts…
Without a start or an end or a defined path…
Without judgments or stern ideas or stern looks or hate
Without stress management or stress relief or symptoms or evaluations
Without room for intimidation or indignation. Being assured but not overly sure
No regrets, no remorse, you did your best and you have time for more
Without staying over the top or under control or within the limits or in line
I walk the line… thankfully…

Thankful for still being totally and completely in love with my family. For not once having to call my mother out of nothing but love and respect and eagerness to learn. For having loved my father.
For my sisters. A hip ever crazy ever happy and upbeat never defeated never out of life and energy stubborn deviously smart opinionated hotheaded generous forever caring and giving and loving sister. And another… A mom. The one who now reminds me of mom. The warm smart wise always right always sure always secure organized traditional but forever surprising.
For my mother. My pillar. My strength. My logic in a world of chaos. For the tip of her velvet maroon robe in the winter that fluttered warmly around us and wrapped us with love. For giving trust and respect. For daring to stand for what is right and for setting yourself up as an example. For the distinguished smell of home

For all of you phenomenal Arabic women.

And also thankful
Thankful for a moment of truth.
For mercy and forgiveness and patience and understanding.
For giving chances and taking away fear.
For being able to taste to smell to see to hear
For smiles and hugs for a moment of victory
For success over silence and stillness and homogeneity and conformity
For fairness and modesty without being apologetic
For beauty all around us and for wine
Yes wine
For the miracle of life, the miracle of the mind, the miracle of humanity.
For a light from within
For a light from the skies
For the mountains kissing the nose of heavens
For sunsets and freckles and tears
For childhood
For an artist in every person’s life
On this day even just for walking
And tomorrow who knows maybe for dancing again
Dancing on the line
Painting patterns drawing out of memory and nostalgia
Drawing out of hope in new beginnings
Drawing
Drawing from blank