This Wanting Space
This wanting space is mine now.
After hours of curating it with meaning,
Losing it all and starting over again and again,
I’ve come back to a seated position among the relics.
What exploded in chaotic color
Now has a devoted space on the walls.
Visitors stop to wonder at it,
Connecting with its forms and blushing tone
All around me now the rainbow of dust has settled
Bodies of possibility erect within reach.
After years of walking above the timberline I’ve come back down
To sit with what is wild, and spoken, and with what is still working its way to the surface.