memo 3

It’s evening, and I’m standing at the doorway to the temple again,
I can’t stay away.

I stepped into society tonight and reeled back into this space, needing it like water in the desert of social activity and banter, all good natured, but not landing not nourishing. afraid of the emptiness on the edges of my skirt, concerned I won’t be able to hide the unruly disappearing nature of my old self.

Everyone has a life that moves them here and there, they seem to be thriving or not, it doesn’t even matter, just that we are kind as we meet, friendly, finding some meeting point.

Am I becoming too sensitive? Have I been alone in the mystery too long?
I speak and don’t recognize my voice, as I tell a listening crone,
"I don’t know who I am….. I don’t know who I am any more."

I am not engaged the way I used to be in the art world, still a painter but no longer a believer.
I am a little afraid to continue this diving…...
and yet, I am called deeper and deeper.
Diving is what I love to do.
Writing, painting, mothering,
all done as introspectively as possible for an Aquarian with Leo rising.

My body says stay close to home, keep painting, keep writing, it’s enough.
What I have to say can only be said intimately, what really matters seems to be pillow heart talk.
Lay down next to me and I’ll fall silent and be happy for the nearness of another.

I’m being called into this silence.
I want to find out who I am.