The fussy toddler wears poop
right close to his bottom –
you can tell he has for a while.
Hot unwashed bodies carry
unique scents like pepper, fermenting fruit,
soaked and dried again towels.
Final days have ways
of making a person think extra long
about things like this.
The press of pungent humanity is
much easier to romanticize
when riding the number 8 is choice
for a time and not grocery shopping,
doctor appointment
necessity.
Walking downtown streets to the law office
for my last Tuesday,
I see that young man again, just a kid
with a skateboard,
face bleeding drugs at the
same corner by the Square where
the man with the dog propped his sign
that said “Feed my human.”
_______
There’s a piece of glass
in my foot from walking barefoot
in our basement storage.
I thought I got it all,
but today I lilt to the left
in my wedges,
remnants reminding me of
tender flesh,
how we’re all limping.
I exit the elevator onto
the 8th floor and the
sticky thick of shared spaces,
mingling smells of
yesterday’s food and perfume,
corridors only vaguely connecting
here to there
before air conditioning cuts
with its comforts.
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
thoughtful, insightful. Thanks for this Ashley
You write a great many beautiful things about your guy and your girls and all the little everywhere bits of beauty. You cheer me and make me want to notice.
Here, my brave girl, you dare me, and yourself more, to see all that is, not just what draws our eye with beauty. Here you dare me hold what repels my mind and makes my soul sick. Here you do your greatest work in my regard.
Keep daring, baby. Your voice: tender, kind and normally nurturing, is one seemingly weak enough to breaks what has grown hard.
Oh humanity, your presence is so heavy. Great poem Ashley
Thank you, Ashley.
Ashley, oh Ash. So hard to look this close, such a sick sorrow to feel this everyday drudge, this monotonous heavy emptiness, the dark meanness of addiction, but how can we not? And why should we not? We ARE all limping Ash…thank you for reminding us…I needed to see and feel it again through your heart. I love you so.
This is beautiful, dear friend. I love, love, love the way you see. Your seeing speaks to my deep places, always.
Ash, how I love the ways you see it all in living color: the pungent, the beautiful, the tender, the human, the cracked, the sacred. And in your own ways, you call it holy by seeing it, really seeing, and not looking away. I love your heart, always.