Coming to You

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The path is clear
at time, and others,
more obscured,
the sky reaching back
so that the clouds
are harder to talk to,
the trails filled with
the thistles and brambles
of years of wild living,
and before long,
I stop thinking
about how I landed here,
because my hands
know how to protect me
and my feet
know where to go,
and my heart knows
how to be quiet,
and even how
I got here,
and I now that
all this time,
no matter how long
it takes,
I have been coming
to you.
 
– Tammy Takahashi
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All the Brilliant Things

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sometimes
i want to gather
the most exquisite patterns
the most transporting paintings
like a mural-sized piece of outsider art
I found once by a Japanese artist in Toronto
that put a lifetime of colour and emotion onto one plane
together with the books
that fold all the way through time
that i can only spread out in my imagination
and it is not a spreading out so much as
a tunneling through, an accordion expansion
so that i can traverse them as i would
a dense forest trail in which everything lives
and also every loved one
i would like to gather
all of this brilliance around me
like a pile of crisp autumn leaves
and I’d like to take a deep breath at dawn
and finally, finally understand what i have,
and say thank you for waiting, and dive right in. TS

A Little Piece of Me

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her brow
beaded with
sweat,
tendrils of hair
clinging to her skin,
afraid to
look ahead,
her eyes fix
on the trail
of thistles, dried
pebbles and moss,
and she trips
anyway,
her mind
buzzing with
the crickets
and cawing
with the birds
confused about
coming or going,
which brings
her to the sea
and to her place
on the shore,
trembling on
loose sand
caged, somehow,
beneath all that
vast sky,
never certain
which of the
world’s horizons
to claim. – TS