this is

this is taking longer

just as

just as i felt ready

you've held me

in the waiting room this year


needlepoint inscription

delivered straight to my doorstep.

i ran my fingers over

the colored thread

and instead

heard the fabric’s woes

of each silver puncture

that made it “glow”


it too hurts before glory.

pains before complete.  


so the song tracked me down

through a beating river sound

and i wanted everything in the world

but to go (to drown)

i found it not appealing

nor amusing

that my name was

stitched so perfectly

to this dreaded invitation.

taunting in its


strange and peaceful luring.


my figure glared from

50 untouched steps



the hall was long and white

lead in my boots

noise in my spine

echoes of my longing

bouncing cold, to the door

that held nothing for my ache

i thought-

only promised i'd wait more.

empty draft in the hall

the white washed walls


steps in despair

in the cold

to my chair

but the plaque on the wall

warmed like ocean air


written engraved:

those who wait here

will not be put to



those who wait here

will not

be put to



now the arms of the chair are wearing down

but there are


growing all


and dignity washes my skin to shine

sun broke the ceiling

my bones stronger in time


and he’s convinced me with

nothing but his face

that my blood is still living

the water’s great.


i swim in the dark under night strewn sky

damn, it hurts sometimes to feel so blind


but the salt is my season

i'm in liquid home with the heavens

float on top in suspension

i'll go when i'm ready


and his care swells til i’m taken

with an iron hope

his care swells so heavy until

i know he knows.

and my longing rests in a great in-between

it is



we must


and mine is peace.