I’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.

SCHUYLER

black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

I’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.

Schuyler

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I know I could be an astronomer of this swooning.

SCHUYLER

I know I could be an astronomer of this swooning.
SCHUYLER

Known
I want to wade into the water on the sidewalk, crawl out of this feeling without giving it a name. Take a lighter to love’s sticky edges so its sadness isn’t caught in my throat.

SCHUYLER

I want to wade into the water on the sidewalk, crawl out of this feeling without giving it a name. Take a lighter to love’s sticky edges so its sadness isn’t caught in my throat.
SCHUYLER

Name Sadness
I descend into an unopened sky, the ocean floor, the final embrace of a graveyard. Find your fill of me before my blue pales like a sour moon.

SCHUYLER

I descend into an unopened sky, the ocean floor, the final embrace of a graveyard. Find your fill of me before my blue pales like a sour moon.
SCHUYLER

Floor Grave
In a dream, my fingertips pulse. I’ll be patient in my blooming. In a dream, I let time pass through open hands.

SCHUYLER

In a dream, my fingertips pulse. I’ll be patient in my blooming. In a dream, I let time pass through open hands.
SCHUYLER

Bloom
How radiant you are, waiting by the window, watching for the sun to grant you more time to dance beneath it. You’ve let yourself dream again. Even if its in bites, even if it’s in a different voice than it used to be.

SCHUYLER

How radiant you are, waiting by the window, watching for the sun to grant you more time to dance beneath it. You’ve let yourself dream again. Even if its in bites, even if it’s in a different voice than it used to be.
SCHUYLER

Radiant Window
I’ll craft a haven that that cradles every joy and sorrow, but doesn’t hold them to keep.

SCHUYLER

I’ll craft a haven that that cradles every joy and sorrow, but doesn’t hold them to keep.
SCHUYLER

Hold
For 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.

SCHUYLER

For 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.
SCHUYLER

Recognition
I still know the fabric of where I begin and end.

SCHUYLER

I still know the fabric of where I begin and end.
SCHUYLER

End Fabric
I’m choosing to believe things are getting better again. The give and take of joy, remembering a few days of ache does not mean forever.

SCHUYLER

I’m choosing to believe things are getting better again. The give and take of joy, remembering a few days of ache does not mean forever.
SCHUYLER
I allow myself to be a weathervane; receive every feeling that greets the shore of me.

SCHUYLER

I allow myself to be a weathervane; receive every feeling that greets the shore of me.
SCHUYLER
I’m remembering again, how loneliness has always made me brave.

SCHUYLER

I’m remembering again, how loneliness has always made me brave.
SCHUYLER
There will be a time where this hurts less and it will not mean it didn’t matter. It means that in the face of feeling something precious slip in my hands, I will always find a way back to myself.

SCHUYLER

There will be a time where this hurts less and it will not mean it didn’t matter. It means that in the face of feeling something precious slip in my hands, I will always find a way back to myself.
SCHUYLER

Way
Some mornings, I like to live like a secret; wake as quietly as I can, slip out of bed without so much as a wrinkle.

SCHUYLER

Some mornings, I like to live like a secret; wake as quietly as I can, slip out of bed without so much as a wrinkle.
SCHUYLER
Take me back to the evergreen trees; to the sunlight through the leaves, the bending ferns and fronds. The pitter of the rain, the smooth rocks sleeping under moss. Take me back to the life I know before this body.
SCHUYLER

Known Leaves Sunlight
The world will be loud again. I’ll notice the loneliness less.
SCHUYLER

Loud
I never lose pieces of me, I just gain new understanding.
SCHUYLER

Pieces

I’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.

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