Abandoned by
her father at an
early age, she can
never leave any-
thing, cannot let
go.
She walls herself
in her apartment,
with stacks of
boxes & worn out
things. A path
to the bathroom,
to the kitchen
sink.
She pins her hopes
on other people,
and sweeps the
disappointment to
the corners of her
room.
With a cheery
dismissal
of what is going
to get abetter
and when.
Having sustained
herself on occasional
visits, she gets
by on very little.
Takes a bit of
action, then waits.
She hangs on,
and hangs on,
until there is
nothing left
of what she meant
her life to be,
but a hedge
against the worst
possibility.

Once it was shoes
thrown carelessly
on the closet floor,
stacks of Vogue
in the walk-in,
then boxes of bottles
for return
on the service porch.

Next stacks of
newspaper in
the hall,
more and more
boxes gathering
around the bed,
the false hope of
plastic shelves
then paper bags
full of cat food
cans in the
living room.
No ones
comes in now,
and because
no one does,
it gets worse
and worse.
She lacks the
mirror we all
need that shows
us how we veer
off course.

That says get
out and take a
walk, and then
do it again.
That says don’t
doubt, don’t fear
don’t wonder.
Just throw it
away, believing
more will come
As it surely will.
Take the large
swipe,
the back hoe
approach to cleaning
up.
That says breathe deep
and suck life in,
the way we really
need it,
Just prana filling
up the cells,
and not in things.
Turn toward the uncertainty
of life, & embrace it.
because it will never
leave you.

Abused by an
alcoholic mother,
she floats from
a torn tether
at the edges of
her life.

She refused shoes
for years, her slender
feet with their arches
running barefoot
through the coast
town where she grew up.
Running wild along
the cliffs,
later sleeping
beneath bushes
to just to get away.

She speaks in a
whispery voice,
which is all but
inaudible.
Dresses in flowing
pastels.
and finds a way
to heal in the wind
in her own breath.