I wish I had words to tell how the light filters through the tree branches
or how quickly my anchored soul takes flight from this acknowledgment.

I wish I knew how to capture moments of contentment and store them up like dried lavender
pulling them out when I need the scent of something sweet and fresh in the middle of winter

I wish I knew a secret language,
belonged to a secret clan,
knew I was special all the time,
not just when my eyes focused out the mad world
and settled on the way a bed of pine needles feel
or how the stillness of the forest falls over me like silk pajamas,
embracing my flushed, peeling skin

I wish I could bottle up each memory of certainty:

(The brilliant green of the dancing trees, the day I woke up in the new skin of being in love,
snow falling on distant headlights below, the night I woke up knowing impossible is nothing)

and take a swig when I forget how to breathe,
swaying and singing, drunk on alive-ness.

So for now I know my own heart beats
I know that today is here, sunny and calm,
the grass continues growing without an ounce of mental strain

But I wish I could dig beneath this layer of self importance and unessential yearning,
and believe in the magic of this day
that this day the wind blows in a way it never has
that this day each moment is as a newborn,
precious and single minded and completely unique

I wish I had the words to tell how the Light Shafts make their way into
the dark inner sanctums of my heart,
affliction and the gorgeous freedom that follows