hope sandoval

the sun is softly crawling through my open balcony door. red, black and white. hope sandoval sings "for the rest of your life" and I fade into blue.
it is, it is, it is a new life.
I look like a buddhist nun almost. hair shaved off. my blue red scarf from India is sighing, hugging my curves.
I am not, I am not, I am not caught in your webs, no, no. There is a big world out there, I know that. My heart has left seedlings all over and blood and velvet tears.
Dreams come to haunt me with horrifying images. Your smile is a faint consolation. I know that she bares your child. Your shield. Your life. She is your wife.
Dead men tell no tales, I hear. Oh, hope, can you let me fly, fly, fly?
I am not fully standing now. Don t really feel the ground. So I must be floating on the wings of now.
Oh bluebird, she is gone. She is gone, so far, to places we can t reach, no, no.
I hang my head and cry to the bandoneon wailing. To the violin crying. To the banjo tickeling my wonders.

I will not think about this now. I will go play with the sun crawling over my floor. Letting the red curtains caress my cheeks, dry them, let the shell tell me of shores unreached and unfathomable. Let the black girl with the curly hair stare into the unknown. There is nothing, nothing, only now.

Ah, hope. Let the trees blossom and spruce. Let me sink into the earth to find roots. It will be summer soon. Straighten your forehead. Straighten your heart. Stretch, stretch. There will be wings.