Tomorrow is a new month,
a day closer to a point
when I can look and say,
"hey, it's a new me!"
(because these changes are gradual)

In celebration,
I woke up a little early
so I could box up some things
for my coming move
and then threw some things away.

I threw out a box of paper flowers,
still in the box
in which they arrived at my first dorm room,
as I'm cleaning my room,
and I'm also dusting
the corners of my heart.

Maybe I should start running again.

Maybe I should take to my heels
and pretend I'm not damaging my knees
and that I can outrun this stress
this sense of fear and anxiety.

Maybe it's just because I'm young.
Maybe it's just because
everything is changing,
the world turning upside down.

Some things stay the same.
My heart beats inside my chest.
The sun warms my skin.
I will keep those close
even as place and time
move about me.

She is my best friend,
my sister though our names are different,
and we can talk for hours.

We smile and laugh,
we share joy
and take away sorrows.

I wouldn't trade her
for jewels,
because then I'd lack
the sister to show them to
in giddy excitement

I had a whole weekend
of a built-in co-pilot,
someone to navigate
and change music
and hold my hand
and look at me when he thinks I couldn't see
I have stunning peripheral vision

and now I'm making my way out of Chicago.
Alone.
My passenger seats empty.

My hand empty.

I wrote them a poem,
this happy couple,
and then I let it run away.

I don't need to remember those words,
I just need to remember their smiles,
how brightly they shone before the altar.

I don't care how many stanzas it was,
just how many times they leaned together
to whisper happily,
how many times her fingers knit through his.

Their love is so much,
so bright,
it's filling my own heart to bursting.
Their joy is so great
A smile is painted on my own face.

Oh, let them be happy
for the rest of their days
with a contentment that settles in their bones.

The Healthy Griffindor

She feels like suspension,
specifically,
she feels like one foot on solid ground,
the other in midair.

She feels breathless and light,
like air readying to rush into lungs-
she feels like gravity ready to claim you.

She feels like life,
fear and exhilaration all in one,
uncertainty and surety tied together.

She feels like standing on a cliff,
one foot on solid ground,
the other reaching out into air.

The Words Given Back

I am running water,
a stream, a brook, a river,
all of it.
Slipping through
or around obstacles,
I am water.

A brook,
babbling noisily,
bright and cheery,
tripping merrily down rocks.

A river,
graceful and stately,
pressing ever on-wards
with slow, careful surety,
never losing ground always gaining.

A steam,
slender, lovely,
sparkling with summer sun,
peaceful.

I am running water,
because no matter which exact word
all are calming,
all bring peace,
all soothe souls with their simple presence,
even if they roar like rapids down a mountainside.