One thousand days


One thousand days
Mille jours
Since our fissure
Opened wide
Like the middle of a book

One thousand days!
How magnificent a measure
A kingdom of time
Since I sat and wrote
The first word, note
Since my heart broke
Or finished breaking
Or began healing
Some of all these things
Of course
These things don’t happen
In one day

But in one thousand days
A long, lonely time
Save fourteen precious people
Yes it hurt me when she said
I don’t read anyone’s books!
I’m not anyone, dear
But this isn’t about
That one, that her, that hurt!
It’s about the fourteen
It’s like I love thee!
This gratitude swells, it’s so deep

One thousand days
One hundred five chapters
The ramblings of my mind
The dancing of my thoughts
The sorting of my psychoses
The sanctuary of my sanity
My own little mental oasis
My private pride and joy.

One thousand days
Of holy scripture
Thousands of visitors
To the church of my mind
Church of the poisoned mind
Heavenly hours and godly times
And when you read my words
I am happy
Like a bit of empathy
My only legacy

One thousand days
Of mortuary
Where worry comes to weep
And anguish to rest
And turmoil to die
I wage and win these wars with words
The twenty-seventh
Of February
Two thousand thirteen
And on and on and on…

One thousand days
Ago one very special day
For little me
Girl gone
Woman writing
Secretly saying silly words
Unheard amidst the real writers
This secret, enormous, beautiful
Love affair began, it is
One thousand days

À propos de Stina

If I could tell you about me in a neat and tidy definitive statement, I don't think I'd be writing this blog.
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