If You Were Here

If you
were here,
we’d
make noise
like toddlers
do
before
taps,
and
we’d
play
in
the dirt
like
wild
birds
during a
hot
humid
mating season.
Let’s
destroy
shit and
let
the world
fend
for
herself
for once.

Then,
if we’re
lucky,
we’ll
get those
“three steps
back”
we lost
the
last
time
we spoke.

M.C. Davis

Advertisements

A Simple Act Of Growing Apart

Every now and then I get a little scared of living. Don’t misunderstand me because when I say this, I don’t mean I’m starting to prefer the darker side of death but sometimes, and because  I get too wrapped up at times inside the bones of life,  I get a little scared of the familiar things.  Those are most important moments where I find true difficulty in seeing and experiencing meaning in the most simplest of gifts.

Like an apple.

Or, better yet, the simple act of growing apart.

Growth, for example,  is often measured by the distance from a certain point (let’s say Point A), to another point (let’s say Point B). If the time from Point A to Point B is deemed worthwhile, then the growth will be most likely considered positive and truly worth the effort in tackling the distance between those two points.  However, if the growth is deemed not worthwhile or the stringent effort to get from Point A to Point B is arduous and painful, then perhaps the growth will be deemed negative and not worth the bucket of coal to proceed from said points A and B.

Where’s all this going you ask?

For starters, I’ve learned in life that no matter where the growth starts or ends, the fact that one is moving is often enough motivation for that much needed breath of fresh air. In other words, the simple act of growing apart can often be the same process and feeling as growing together. The flow may change but we’re on a strategy of moving beyond ourselves and employing our senses to do the heavy lifting.  So, why not disagree with yourself once in a while and allow a bit of fluid to run through those tough cracks.

I think you’d be surprised at how many apples you’ll find just laying around.

M.C. Davis

Don’t Forget About Me

Let’s
walk
and let
our
days and
nights
linger in
between
this and
that.
Let’s share
a
spontaneous
moment
and
if you’re
close
enough,
let
me speak
to the
sun’s
dim
touch.
Let’s face
forward
into
the wind
and
let hair
fall
where
she decides.

Let’s
do this
in
remembrance
of
us.

M.C. Davis