A lovely weekend

When I went to church today, I had no idea what I would be doing afterward, and as I chatted with various friends quickly everyone began to disappear, and I realized I might end up at home alone. But then I started talking with my friend Stephanie, and we ended up going to eat in Nevada City and walking around downtown. It's always so refreshing to talk with her. On the one hand, she's about my mom's age, and I have so much I can learn from her life experience. But on the other hand, she's a brand new Christian, and so I feel like I have a lot of knowledge and experience from my life in the church that I can reciprocate. I know that there's always this potential give-and-take of knowledge and experience with any relationship, but it's nice when it's so obvious and readily available. She's so open and sincere, and I love all of our conversations, even when we disagree sometimes. What a great friend. We've been trying to get together like that for a long time, so it's funny that it finally happened kind of on accident.

Yesterday was nice too. I went to lift weights with Tara, Leland and Jeffrey at Jeffrey's house, haha, something very different for me but surprisingly fun. After work, we hung out at Tara's and watched Toy Story 3. :)

I'm excited to say Friday night at the Bistro went wonderfully! As the first set, Jeffrey, Leland, and I did a sort of reading panel where we took turns sharing 3 things we had written. I was honored to participate, and by the time I was sitting up there, I didn't even feel nervous anymore. I hope that this can be just the start of more times of sharing. Tara and I are thinking of starting a monthly time even just amongst us friends to play music together and/or create art or whatever comes up. This is such a great community of talented friends, and I'm so glad to be a part. In case you're interested, here are the three poems I chose to read:

Voice cracks, control lapse,
breach in the dam behind brown eyes.
No flood, no stream, just a swell and a gleam of
shining tears that so cautiously create
trembling pools, the meniscus in the
graduated cylinder from high school chemistry.

Everything is different and
nothing has changed.

Homesick much? Maybe so, but
this list that's ever lengthening
is difficult to name.
So many spaces, places, faces,
phases, gazes upon an album full
or seven or twenty-two...
all organized and boxed and shelved and away
but swirling and boiling and fermenting and here to stay,
heavy here in these hands, this head, this heart.
I'm homesick, maybe, mostly for you.

You were my home, and away I moved,
sitting here weeping and homesick for you.


"Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands[...]" - Isaiah 49:15-16

Loving you
has left its mark on
me, your face on
my heart, deep.

Loving me
has left its mark on
him, my name on
his palm, permanently.

Loving you
changes me
changes you
loving me
making marks on
our identity
loving, deep
marking, permanently.

My deep, a drop
in his eternity –
individually, collectively on
his palm, permanently.


It's raining,

And while it's not your fault,
you're still the reason I
inhale and
take in and
And while I'll never blame you for
everything we do,
it couldn't be we
if it weren't for you.

My empathy exhausts itself
with you.
I'm the sponge that soaks the stuff you spill.
And it's not your fault,
but you're still the reason.
And while I'll never blame you for
everything we feel,
if it weren't for you,
it could never be we.

It's raining,

And these complications cause conflict
in my consistency, confidence, concept
of who I am.
(it's more than I generally like to let on,
the influence we've had on each other.)
And I'll never blame you because:
the rain makes others hide,
but it makes me glow inside.
(how could I make you apologize when
the rain makes me alive?)

It's never your fault
but you're always the reason
because without the you
I wouldn't, I couldn't
be me.

1 comment:

Sasha... in Africa said...

I really loved the last poem, Brettin!