Still

Every shard of gratitude you can pull out of the shattered frame – helps.

It’s all in how you see the pieces..

(Thanks for the moment, Diane)

Yesterday, despite the dark – rainbows followed me. It’s all in what you see.. And sometimes it’s just so hard – to see. Rainbow pens from my love. Rainbow letters colored in my notebook as a sweet surprise. And then, during the Taste of LIC on the LIC waterfront – a girl scout runs up to me and says, “There’s a rainbow outside!” for no reason – how did she know? I was inside the tent and would’ve missed it – it was in the sky for such a short time. My hands shot up to my mouth. “How did you know I was waiting to see one?!” I went outside – and there it was.

Sometimes we feel so small – and so poisonously guilty for not being able to peel ourselves back from our own darkness to see the blessings in front of us. Be patient.. Be kind. I sat against a building on the sidewalk in LIC to eat some breakfast/lunch and an old friend randomly passed by and sat with me. He reminded me – you’re not alone. And you’ve been through this before. And you make a lot of people happy. That is its own currency.. The ebbs and flows, he reminded me. The ebbs and flows. This is what it is. And it isn’t forever..

Whenever I read Kabir (or Hafiz, or Rumi) – their eternity leaks into me. Their words so seemingly simple yet so profound. Emanating from somewhere else entirely and yet – directly beside you. Always within reach. Words spawn words, I always say.. They make me write. They come and offer their words – take it or leave it, they take YOU as you are. Simple. Simple..

Here are some words from a crowded G train this morning. Blessings to you, and especially those of you dealing with your dark.

XXOO

a.

6/4

“whenever you fall i will be there to catch you”

curl around that space inside the word.

your face has become so dark, hollow.

the further you slip, drifting in your boat without oars, collecting stars –

still, i can see you.
still, i can reach you.

your pity for yourself feels inextricable.

your crash from the high, your bones made of pieces, somehow still holding in place.

i am holding that place.

i am watching you even through veils of darkness.

i am the breath that moves the curtain as you sleep.

that’s all it is –

a curtain between these two worlds.

your life becomes a strange failure –

and you forget.

you don’t want to be here anymore.

rooted to this pain,

guilt.

the thickness such that for once –

you can’t cry.

and you still want to cry.

need to cry.

for her.

for him.

for them.

what about – for you?

all these curtains and boats and flowers.

be inside the curl of the word.

it is impossible to make light without shadow.

and so on and so forth –

you know this.

like your next breath – you know this.

i am the golden rim around the edge of asphyxiation.

the moment you see out of the corners of your eyes.

touch it –

you glow.

just when you think you can’t breathe anymore –

the space in your ribcage opens to a canyon.

call your voice into it.

i need no offering but your unrest.

this moment, just as you are.

call your voice to me,

up into the heavens you don’t feel strong enough to believe in.

still, i can see you.

always – i will answer you.

-ajd

IMG_20140602_185035

UPCOMING EVENTS:

– Performing at IAM (Immigrant Advancement Matters) Open Sessions at Flushing Town Hall 6/5/14 [Facebook]

– Hosting Mike Geffner’s The Inspired Word at COFFEED 6/11/14 [Website]

– Hosting the last Boundless Tales reading of the season 6/19/14 [Website]

– Performing & curating for the Queens Council on the Arts Block Party at Kaufman Arts District 6/21/14 [Website]

INSPIRATION:

“if my bark sink/ ’tis to another sea.” -dickinson, via emerson

Author: audrey dimola

MY NAME IS AUDREY AND I AM A WILDFIRE. // My work catches flame at the intersections of multidisciplinary art, ceremony and ritual, community and connection, improvisation and radical vulnerability. I am a Queens, NYC born-and-raised poetic alchemist, performer, curator, and sacred space-holder; author of 3 poetry and prose collections; Director of Public Programs at Socrates Sculpture Park; and creator of original event experiences such as Nature of the Muse, Church of the Sacred Body, and How We Create & How We Cope: Intersections of Art & Mental Illness.

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