~~Art is the only way to run away without leaving home. ~Twyla Tharp
DAY ONE: Haven’t talked to Kay for 10 months & 11 days.
Before the murder; we talked
every. single. day.
I have so much to tell her, so much to say, so much to communicate
For example: that she was shot by a man she had known for thirty LONG years.
That I haven’t gone a single day without wondering about how things might have been
That some days I’m so lonely that I search inside recipe books to keep my mind and senses touching something else
That the God we once praised with lifted arms and prayerful petitioning has been more silent than not
That sometimes I feel like the only person on this stinkin’ earth
DAY TWO: Taught poetry class for YAC (young author’s conference).
This is where I’m supposed to be
Drenched in metaphor & symbolism
Covered in sentences & simile
I tell the students about Monkey Mind
I tell them to go crazy—wild—uninhibited with their words
I tell them there are no rules in Free Verse
They all smile.
Whew…..What a relief.
DAY THREE: Pain brings Purpose.
I believe this. I know this. My intellectual being demands this.
Pain CANNOT be born without intention, reason, or a higher meaning.
Pain cannot erupt and explode without explanation or enlightenment.
now now now now now now now now now now what you want from me, GOD!
DAY FOUR: Mornings hurt like lonliness.
There is something utterly-fantastically insidious about awakening to birds singing, sun shining, yellow surging….
The scent of spring hurts without Kay.
The smell of green fucking hurts without Kay.
DAY FIVE: Writing is a life of solitude.
I understand why Plath, Dickenson, & Woolf escaped into locked rooms with candles.
I understand why Fosse curled up inside a small hut on the mountain top of Rwanda.
It all makes sense to me now.
How Seclusion and Silence can be such a lovely place to dwell.
DAY SIX: I found a new doctor.
I sat and told her my sad sad story.
I sat and sobbed.
I sat cross-legged on the green plastic chair like a child and told her my mammogram was overdue.
I sat and told her my life was overdue.
She was beautiful.
DAY SEVEN: Have I ever mentioned I love Woody Allen?
In his film “Interiors,” one of the characters (Diane Keaten) screams:
“How the hell does one survive without ART!?”
I thank God I need not figure that out…
…for the written word has saved me and loved me and wrapped her vocabulary around me for many years.
When I need her the most.
—For support and more information please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or at TTY 1-800-787-3224.
click here NOW >http://www.thehotline.org/get-help/help-in-your-area/
IMFORMATION ABOUT “KAY SISTO WALK/RUN/ROLL FOR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE HERE: http://www.theduluthmodel.org/events.php