Live where you fear to live.*

“Heart on fire, ashes everywhere
— there’s no return from a red like that.”
~Fado Menor by Manuel de Freitas

it doesn’t matter. it never did. it is for the best.

these are the lies we tell ourselves when the world gets dark. when the stars in our souls begin to explode, and our hearts feel impossibly like tinder. the match is always ready. it is foolish to think otherwise. even if your skin feels like the ocean, it will still burn. likewise, a promise made of water means nothing and everything in the desert. always, when it’s night, the monsters come out. the mirror is a monster in its own right. do not place your hand on it, and whisper a name at midnight.

sometimes, it hurts too much. a gasp for air, only to find the ocean swimming into your lungs. sometimes, it isn’t the pain that kills, but a possibility, unexpected. an idea, like an earthquake, shatters the foundation underneath your feet. trouble is, the fault line is in your fingertips. trouble is, the wreckage begins with a smile gone plastic around the edges. a false start that turns into something endless.

but this is not how things end. this is how they begin – coupled with the wrong pronouns, a missed train, a late arrival, a doorbell that rings. happenstance and heartbeats, the way a hand lingers on your back, or your shoulder, living there like sunlight. this is the wayward grace of a window, the promise of green and tomorrow – and tomorrow. this is waking up, with crazy hair and nothing on.

say yes. say love. say please.

then, take a deep breath. then, wait.

this is why we run, hearts filled up with hurricanes. this is how we reappear, with our smiles full of simple magic. this is when we remember who we are, answering the ringing question – who do you think you are? – with a fierce truth.

this is how we are consumed by fire, nurtured by water, lifted by air, and grounded by earth. this is untied hands. this is hope that smells like copper. this is a sunrise that tastes like childhood. this is the way a kiss unravels every lie.

it does matter. it always did. it always will.

*line from the poet Rumi

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  1. July 11, 2013 at 12:02 am

    “this is why we run, hearts filled up with hurricanes”

    You’re stealing my EMOTIONS. ❤ ❤

  2. July 11, 2013 at 8:59 am

    Gah! All the feels!

    • July 11, 2013 at 9:01 am

      Thank you for reading and commenting, Patty!! ❤

  3. simplyblake
    July 11, 2013 at 9:32 am

    “…the way a hand lingers on your back, or your shoulder, living there like sunlight.”

    So many lines to choose from; today, this one “pinged” the most.

    • July 11, 2013 at 9:32 am

      Thanks, B!! I’m glad that you liked. 🙂

  4. July 15, 2013 at 8:53 am

    Hi Ali! I can’t believe I’ve found you after all this time! I’m Bukowski_Rules from Xanga, your old pal. I’ve been on WordPress for the past two years and have lost touch with nearly everyone from Xanga. I’ve wondered whatever happened to you. Glad to see you seem well. I just subbed to your blog, so I’ll be looking forward to reading you again. Cheers!

    • July 15, 2013 at 9:05 am

      Hey, Scott! It has been forever! Good to see you on here. I loom forward to reading your stuff again, too! 🙂

  1. July 11, 2013 at 8:06 am

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