a poem

the homeopath

the homeopath rubbed my feet and my head
and in her broken english told me i was sad
she held my neck suspended
as if she was water
and i was a leaf.
and the stillness brought on my tears like a fever;
tears for all that had gone and all that would be,
tears for all the searching,
tears for the wooden house by the sea that i see
but to which there is no path,
tears for the motherlove.
and they trickled down the sides of my cheeks
like tiny streams into my ears, forming pools.
i wanted her to stay there forever letting me be weak.
but tonight i will get up and sing my heart out
to ten thousand people.
how funny that that makes me seem strong
when i do it out of need;
the need to feel. whole. to surrender;
and to free the passion.
i think in th eend that is what we all want.
and at the end of the day
when we are tired,
to be a leaf floating on water;
someone to hold us while we cry.

Heather Nova in The Sorrowjoy

Needless to say I had a bad day. I feel like crying or throwing things around. Because the atmosphere at work sucks. And I feel like vacations would be the most welcome thing ever. Even if it's just driving a couple hours to spend another couple hours in a totally different environment. But there aren't enough hours in a day to get around to achieve something good enough.