So...I have decided to publish some of the self-important ramblings I've found while careening through my hard drive, mainly because I still like them, and also because if not here, where?!
Where are the love songs for our living? Why do I need to find a partner when I have been so well-fostered as a child, set on my tender feet with careful palms.
Mother, this is for you. That I know the proper way to make the bed, and that even though I am lazy and don’t pull all the fabric properly on the last corner, I know how it should look – as fine as oblivion. You’ve taught me that.
Father, this is yours. That your coats always carried the cold in them when you came home from working, and when I hugged you, I’d feel it in surprising little pockets. I’d come away pricked with sawdust, which smells like work itself.
Sister, remember when we fed the horses, and I was too skittish, afraid of those great muzzles, but you were not and held up your hay with bold arms, tiny as they were.
Brother, that once you fell in a stream and I jumped in after you and I held you and the current went around me, and it was not a deep stream at all, and still, I thought only of your preciousness.
You are the ones who matter.
I love you beyond reckoning, beyond reasoning. If there is a mineral at the base of this flesh, it is sedimentary of your making, and I am pressed of your strata.