Good morning, wherever you are. <3
What weather are you waking to? Did you dream? Or maybe as you read this, you are just reaching to turn out the lights. I wish we could sit together sipping something warm, taking a moment in quietness, but maybe this can welcome you into the day (or invite you into rest).
I figured it’s high time I add a poem here. I wrote this around spring and it sat without a title until last night. Most of all, I’m glad the feeling has stayed. And I hope, if this practice feels far from you right now, your hands begin to ease; recover their gentleness, remember that it is no small treasure to hold you.
(Re)Possession
by Schuyler Peck
No longer is there a need to be a crime scene;
an outline of chalk, dust swept; my hands
the only set of fingerprints.
I like taking care of me. This is boring and makes for bad poetry
and a younger self dreamed so many ways of our own ruining,
but I like taking care of me. A warm belly full of breakfast;
the effort of eggshells and spattered oil worthwhile
because I made this meal for me. Jacket loose
around my shoulders, an old fever dream painted
over the back, green nail polish stain
on the left sleeve; a Friday night spent with myself,
now worn into the world.
I take the longer running trail
because there’s flowers starting to bloom
by the church. The yellow might make a second sun
to wake to on my nightstand. The Saturday speedrun
from strewn grief across the carpet, to perfecting
my Glenn Miller two-step in the kitchen;
hands afloat like pale smoke.
I like taking care of me. An orchestra, at last, on key.
What a wonder, in becoming the salve to my own sadness.
My face taken in my hands, to breathe, move, shake, sit,
scream unabashed, all the windows open;
know that once the spiral slows,
I’ll feel the softness of my skin.
—
with love,
schuyler (sky-ler)
venmo: schuylerpeck