I never lose pieces of me, I just gain new understanding.
SCHUYLERI never lose pieces of me, I just gain new understanding.
SCHUYLERMy love lives in my cheeks – gives me away by the first smile. all the lines from years spent laughing, warm with extra freckles in the summer; a poker face that doesn’t keep once my knees fold.
SCHUYLERTake 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.
SCHUYLERI’m writing about moving again, and when I write about moving, I really mean beginning. I’m beginning again.
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.
SCHUYLERThe world will be loud again. I’ll notice the loneliness less.
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.
SCHUYLERWe’ve never seen what a happy life could look like if we chose to spend it by ourselves – sharing our beautiful lives with friends, family members, the occasional crush, and lounging out in that quiet space alone as if an idyllic sunned beach.
SCHUYLERI’d get lost in this green, ferns leaning against the trees, soil stuck to my feet, never dream of finding my way back again.
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.
SCHUYLERPlease come here, but not too close.
SCHUYLERYes, this life is mine, but more often I watch it take place and my hands feel too far away to touch it.
SCHUYLERI allow myself to be a weathervane; receive every feeling that greets the shore of me.
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.
SCHUYLER