Until I Know What I Don’t. ~ Edith Lazenby

Via Edie Lazenby
on Feb 3, 2013
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I see the horizon.

I feel sun.

Air is cold.

Gratitude shakes

Until my heart

Bleeds hope.

I sip ice water.

I bake cheesecake.

Need dresses

This moment.

Choice hangs

Its head.

Sometimes left

Is right; right leaves.

Sometimes what I feel

And what I know

Shred now because

Truth recycles itself.

I put empty containers

In boxes and paper in another.

Strangers can take all away.

Trash lacks meaning

When we forget history,

Where we come from,

What we’ve been.

My goal is remembering:

Smell of donuts

And stray kitties

House a memory

Where my granny’s

Love holds me.

I dance with loss.

Grief embraces

As I usher its light

Past shadows.

Love rises

And christens

Each breath

So I can let go of

A story I’ve told.

Every day promises

Change. It’s permanent.

I fold myself

On the floor

In a prayer.

I ask for help.

A candle flickers,

Incense burns

And a statue of Buddha

Reminds me suffering

Is optional.

I find a church.

I prefer it empty,

Though what it holds

I don’t even know.

It’s not the windows

Or the crosses or

The heavy wooden doors.

It’s knowing humanity

Believes God has a home

Like I know how

My heart lives its faith.

All I know lives there

Until I know what I don’t.

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 Ed: Bryonie Wise

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About Edie Lazenby

Edith Lazenby's first love is poetry. Her second is yoga. Life unrolls in ways she could have never have imagined. She loves to love and live life daringly. Leap and the net will appear is how the saying goes but they don't tell you what to do after it disappears. Edith lives in Baltimore with her cat, Cucumber. She works all the time, it seems, these days. Life is good. Blessings are many.

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