i am sitting on the huron pier (greenpoint, brooklyn)
– staring at the mid-day light refracting off of the east river shading the shadows of the buildings of mid-town manhattan
i have been quite ill for two weeks
– first the flu, now a lower respiratory tract infection
age is catching up with me
in order to move forward (with intention / with purpose) i have to let so many things go . . . all attachments to the past must be released in order to embrace this present (this future)
releasing is all encompassing – daunting / intimidating / threatening . . . et cetera . . . & mandatory
so many things are, “right in front of me” . . .
– amazing job
– amazing relationship
– amazing apartment
just to name three damn near numbs me into immobility
watching each individual cell composed of two parts hydrogen one part oxygen combine & crash into this forgotten steel & concrete beach collectively as waves inspires me
water has always taught me
i grew up at the intersection of the mississippi & missouri rivers . . . i was only & always “myself” there
i fought for it
i used to go, once a week, to the “shore” & listen to the waves meander
thirty plus years later i am sitting – here & no, the world no longer is similar to that place of distinct lines & anchors
here / now . . . i have to let them go (float out into the world without me) – not an easy task – but, i must
i want to get down into the water (but it’s gross & i’m sick) so i won’t . . .
i will instead be the light that illuminates the discarded brick & mortar of greenpoint, brooklyn (shining just below a sheltering bulge of algae long accustomed to the touch of steel) & move on . . . leaving all i remember of brooklyn behind me
i will miss this place
as i miss carroll gardens; park slope south; fort greene; red hook; williamsburg & windsor terrace
i can learn to coalesce, collaborate & concede . . . i have to
so good-bye greenpoint / goodbye to most that made greenpoint real . . . & thank you
i am on the cusp of becoming . . .
– the shore of dreams –
i have wanted to live i bed-stuy my entire life
i will visit you frequently but you are no longer my home
the room(s) i made have turned into a way of living . . .
of sharing space / of becoming
i am no longer afraid of succeeding (roma)
– i am now breathing my life
’tis time to live !!