sitting, this early autumn dawn…
already the tropical heat steams:
low clouds are resting on the mango tops
and on my head, thick after an airless night

sitting, greeting, bowing to
each whining thought’s futility
in the presence of this
impartial
immensity

this me-matrix,
this emelle-character,
has been tossed too far
off the mainstream GPS
by whatever brought her here
to expect acceptance
by the old herd

sometimes, though, there’s a glance
back, over the shoulder
and a sigh sighs – it wants
the best of both worlds:
understanding and encouragement from the old
friends, the frayed remnant of family
as well as this wild unchoreographed dance
with the unknown

but it’s a no-brainer and anyway
back-tracking isn’t an option

a great sentient silence wraps itself
around this spaciousness
and there’s just this
total fulfillment
smiling, smiling

emelle loves this fail-safe Lover
with her life

there:

it’s outed

emelle = ml = miriam louisa