Dispatch #063

Shelter Journal

by Sara Shelton Mann

it’s when your shoes are filled with ice you know you took the wrong turn
falling backwards and holding your breath, learning the piano 
you sit there steady with your young self and wait for the melody to arise 
your shoes fill with water and your fear turns to ice
it's best to take the unknown road and begin again
try the void point
treat that child to enthusiasm, laughter, playfulness and the sweetest smile you’ve ever known

if you are in the forest, climb a tree and watch your innocent self
dig a hole and cover the “I am” with moss and leaves, wet ferns, and dried sticks
it sometimes takes centuries to crawl out
You can do it
You remember the light of the sun washes you clean
You remember the light of the sun washes you clean 
You remember

yesterday- there’s a warp in the earth’s operating system
even the tiny treasures have been extracted by revelants who have poured oil on top, lit the fuse and are now fighting over who did it or who wants it, while looking through a glass pane blindfolded, smelling flames that touch the sky
I had a dream of a map with burn marks along the ridges of the mountains and I had to return North before the earthquakes came
I had to return to the South to locate myself
the beauty of extinction has tilted and like a boomerang will return with an agenda 
haunting cries of the loon pass over the still lakes in Maine
pick me up on the side of the road, jumping, if you don’t see me, there are other ways to escape
I know ten ways to get water from a stone:
cry- there aren’t enough tears in the world to open a stone
believe- you can lie until you believe it, and gather a multitude of unbelievers and turn them into believers
start a cult- drink Kool aide, slowdown that kundalini—ice blue. 
 		wear white- I’ll know I’m crazy and you will be well
open the earth—dive right in—you’ll burn up thus it doesn’t matter about the water
or you could be a star—shine
		buy a fence and sit on it, pray for rain
		eat dirt
at the moment, I imagine 
the sound comes through the house
the house is upside down 
the people are ancient children righting the world as it should be for as it is now
singing moves the feet and winds claim the heart 
silence is the forgotten metaphor for answers 
weight is the space between worlds 
I forgot to love you enough
I listened to the voices 

lights up, let’s dance the polka


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