I am working on new stories for you. There is a 3-part series coming on the golden ball, the golden thread, and the golden crown upon your head. On how we honor our shifting selves, form ourselves, retrieve our selves, love who we are and become who we want to be.
I took a hiatus from writing during my move to Italy that was needed but now after spending a week spinning stories for my retreat guests in Greece I am full of new inspiration from that ancient land that holds so many powerful stories.
But today I offer you something different. A short poem.
Once when my heart was broken over a lost lover
a man said to me
“darling don’t worry
in 6 months it will be like it never happened.
You’ll go on and that man you thought would be your only chance at love will be only a distant memory”
He was both right and wrong
I have is a scar on my thumb from pulling my hand out of the oven when I got the bad news
A small white crooked line
A tiny map
of a road to nowhere
There is a man that though we don’t speak often
I still hold very dear
We’ve never had anything but mutual respect
Compassion and care
And we have found a way to hold our connection
Though it is nothing like it was
Just today we spoke briefly
It was nourishment
We acknowledged once again
The ways we mishandled one another’s hearts
And the forgiveness flowed both ways
I cherish his friendship
I hold his memory sweetly
Seeing him so happy
Makes me so happy
Once I told a man that I think in time I could have loved
“Don’t worry in 6 months you won’t remember me.
I’ll be just another girl you once knew
And those days will be just like any other day
And all of this will fade”
I think that he was maybe the first time I’d met my match
He wasn’t scared of my mind
Or the way my heart beats outside of my chest
Or how antsy I get if I’m forced to stay too long away from the sea
But there was never enough time
And he was never mine
And it left me with such a hollow longing
But if I am to be honest
And you insist that I must be
I still think maybe there is a time line
In another place
Not here
Not now
Where we are in love
All salted skin and moonlight and earth
So no I haven’t forgotten
And it is not like it never happened
In truth I like to think his skin remembers me
That some piece of him still knows the way my head fit
Just so on his collar bone
We remember
We forget
We shape shift
And there are some longings
Some markings
that stay
A tiny white scar on my hand
A voice we can’t quite recall
A goodbye we never got to say
Our tongues thick with questions
Does your skin remember me?
Did you taste sunlight there?
Where did you place the flowers you plucked from my chest?
-In 6 Months
Join me on retreat in Italy, Morocco, and Greece for an immersive week of oral storytelling, embodiment story, Katonah Yoga®, and ceremony. You can learn all about my sensory immersive tours at The Italianista
Thank you for being here. In short order the stories are coming.
Thank you for making it possible for me to write and study.
Love,
Selena