Your anger, your sorrow, your fear, are okay to feel through, no matter how big it feels now.
SCHUYLERYour anger, your sorrow, your fear, are okay to feel through, no matter how big it feels now.
SCHUYLERI’m remembering again, how loneliness has always made me brave.
SCHUYLERI will still live like a ghost in the mornings; walking, listening, pouring coffee to finish sometime by the afternoon, when I’ve had enough of watching the world and do all I can to live in it.
SCHUYLERWe’re in spring and I have learned how to be gentle and sharp; strong bark on budding trees. Hold out your hands. I’ll leave a pink kiss and a pocket knife.
SCHUYLERIn a dream, my fingertips pulse. I’ll be patient in my blooming. In a dream, I let time pass through open hands.
SCHUYLERSome mornings, I like to live like a secret; wake as quietly as I can, slip out of bed without so much as a wrinkle.
SCHUYLERI’m thinking about how early the spring flower buds rise up from the grass; just barely on winter’s heels. How uncomfortable, how cold the soil must be, still half-frosted, when the roots start to take shape.
SCHUYLERI sit on the bare floor, leave my palms unturned, and watch relief pool into one hand, and uncertainty in the next. I will try not to lean more one way or another, but let them hold each other as company.
SCHUYLERI’m writing about moving again, and when I write about moving, I really mean beginning. I’m beginning again.
SCHUYLERPlease come here, but not too close.
SCHUYLERIf every feeling comes like a wave, I try to decide what kind of coastline I’ll become.
SCHUYLERFor now, I’ll bring what I can to my own four walls. I recognize the purpose, the promise of this: a church is made by its space, by its practices.
SCHUYLERChange is not a four letter curse word I once believed it to be.
SCHUYLERHold me here, where I feel less like a stranger to my own laughter. Where it’s easier to believe things happen for a reason or maybe, at least, out of a thousand winding roads my life might take, I will still find one that fits me.
SCHUYLERI don’t want to be a saint, I want a love I don’t fight alone to keep.
SCHUYLERThis does not have to be a hard life to love. There is not enough time to let it stray too far from my hands.
SCHUYLER