8.2.22

Simone Weil said: Attention, taken to the highest degree is prayer. 

And today what are you praying for? Looking for the line between here and there. 

This morning; a brief conversation about living close to the water. You look at them and you say: those who love the ocean would understand. They nod and say of course. The ocean. Your great love. How powerful you felt once, surrounded by green grey blue. 

So you think about _____, sitting somewhere in China, drinking tea, studying porcelain, living near the water and sometimes living far from it. 

When you write something once, can you write it again? And is it the same thing the second or third or fourth time? Is someone different listening, or is it always the same person? 

_____ is telling you about that frozen lake outside of Beijing. Two dogs and a person fall through the ice. Which dog to save? How to surrender a being who loves you completely? This is the last story I remember being told and I don't know why. 

You are sitting on the porch and you reach up to the wisteria branches. You trace your hand over a leaf as if it was the skin of a lover. 

Pay attention. The trees outside. What are their names? Everything I write is a letter to you.

Do you remember that night? You're trying to write about something that isn't pain. The more you walk around the perimeter of pain, the more you realize that pain is the perimeter. 

That night when you and ____ sat around a table eating black eyed peas. Happy New Year. Waking up to peace, finally. The memories of you and _____ that you've tucked away somewhere. Waking up together, going to sleep together, waking up together, going to sleep together. 

How many seasons did you sleep through? 

This dream, this ocean, this dream, this ocean.