A Meditation on Place

Stop
Take a breath
What do you see?
A teardrop stain, like dripping condensation on a window
It smears against the pad of my right thumb.
Green fingers of an aloe reaching out and to the light
Rotting soil
A black gnat sitting on a spore.
My hair is everywhere
Coming out in clumps it hangs like Spanish moss from the branches of an armchair
Wrapped around my son’s big toe
Be still
I whisper and unwind.
Cold coffee congealing in a mug
A daydream hovers near
The dog pees on the carpet
A clock lies dripping on the floor—
Nonsense
Where has all my time gone?
Dollar store dinosaurs and perfect penmanship
A gauze mask bent along the bridge
Sky blue
I sit in search of words
But words are everywhere.
With the fine strands of my braided hair I tether myself back to earth
Stay, she says,
Take a breath
What do you see?

4 thoughts on “A Meditation on Place

  1. It’s always a pleasure to hear from you, Shayleene 🙂 There are not enough hours in a day when you become a mother. My hair came out in clumps after I gave birth to my firstborn, permanently leaving me with two bald spots. The time for words will return when you least expect.

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  2. I love this whole piece but the hair – such a visible reminder of who we are, such a flag of identity, and gone to radiation treatments, slowly grown back, gone again to grief, and now back. I remember sitting with handfuls of hair, sobbing, feeling like it was me that was fallen and gone. But I came back again.

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