Space big and vast enough to get really angry.
Space that can hold frustration, worry and grief.
I want to know how we can hold space for one another to bled out.
For our bones to rattle.
For the tears to stream down our faces.
I’d like to know.
I want to know how to hold space for neurotic mothers, selfish friends, and our aging fathers.
How do we hold space to hear them.
Like really hear them, with love instead of the desire to run.
Please, someone tell me how.
I want to know how to hold space for social and political unrest.
The anguish, the uproar, the tension, and churning sick to my stomach feeling.
I want to know how to stay.
Stay in the fire, and hold it.
Outstretch my arms, and hold space for her, for them, for me, for the world.
I want to fill the void
feed the hunger
catch the tears
ease the quiver in suffering hearts.
I want to break free from this prison.
Scream at the top of my lungs outside in the storm.
I will write until my hand goes numb.
until my eyes fall down
and my mind sizzles in the heat of the sun
I will write until I find the answer
I want to know.
How do I hold space for dementia
and the day he forgot my name
my face, now a stranger.
I want to write his story
His unmet dreams
Before it’s too late
All is NOT perfect as it is.
I know I must weather this storm
Stand on the frontline and fight my way through this battle
To unveil truth
somewhere in there I know the answer lies.
Nobody said holding space would be easy.
It is the path full of debris, detours, and dead ends.
Empty tanks and dead batteries.
THIS is the road less travelled indeed.
I will stand here in the rain. Soaked and wet.
I will navigate through the entangled ventricles of this heart.
Let the chill of the wind blow right through me.
Until these clothes are torn to tattered shreds
and eyes bloodshot red.
My teacher once said to me, “Jazzy, my child. If you wait, the answers will come.”
And so will stand here and I will wait.