I arrived in Arizona 10 days ago. Since then it's been a whirlwind of old friends, resurrected memories, and personal healing on the deepest of levels. I found several books of poetry from high school and some from my first few years of motherhood. As I prepare to return home to California, I thought I would honor my dear friend Sharon and record our poem, unofficially referred to as "the Coyote poem" here in cyberspace. This was written in 2004, on the patio of our N Phoenix apartment. We passed a notebook back and forth for a few hours, and this poem was the result.
Untitled
by Kristy & Sharon
If the end is just on the other side
and so is the beginning
then where do we start and when do we stop
and what do we do in the middle
And what if the middle is what we were seeking, after all
And then when we finally realize
it's too late and we can't turn back
and we're left with what we began
and we finally hear our voices coming back from the mirror
No! Wait! that's visual (turn the page)
That's all wrong...for in this place
that we've found ourselves in
There is no sight...
There is no sound
It's the void
The empty place
Where only your voice echoes
Like your mother's voice
calling you
home
to dinner
or breakfast
or even the lunch you had no time for
until later
and it's late now
and someone is angry
and you're hungry
and you're home
Have you ever walked into a room
and then forgot what you came for
And for a moment you look around, lost...
And then, you turn
and right there are familiar eyes in a stranger's face
But you know them
And so you stare
Standing there
And stop to fix your hair
Meanwhile avoiding the eyes
That know too much
And yet know nothing about how you came to be here now
And yet
you toss your hair
and smile
(not too broadly)
and seat yourself
with just enough assurance
And then you blink
And it's gone
And everything you thought you knew has left
And you're left staring
Into the eyes that whisper
So softly you can barely hear
And you tilt your head
Because someone once said
You can hear better at an angle
But when you close your eyes and listen...
Suddenly you are once again aware
So you sit up straight
And you blink
I feel you tonight.
The liars and the thieves are still awake, somewhere
But I feel you.
And even though you aren't saying a word
(which is rare)
I hear you speaking to me from somewhere
Calling me out...
Calling me down
Calling me up
Calling
Like coyotes calling.
Calling me to the mountain
For dinner
or breakfast
or lunch
And I'm hungry
And I might be in trouble
And I'm scared
Will you hold me?
And will you kiss away all my fears?
Because someday you'll be here
Close enough to know that all these tears
Were not for you, or for the liars nor the thieves
But still I cry
And I know you're out there calling
Calling me
Calling me up
Calling me down
Calling me to breakfast
or dinner
but I'm late for lunch
And someone is angry
and I'm frightened
and I'm hungry
And I want to go home
I'm sitting down to dinner
or breakfast or lunch
And I look out the window
And see a coyote, smiling
And I know his teeth
smiling
And I know all the teeth
smiling
And he knows I know
And we smile
Because he's hungry
and I'm smiling
And then he blinks
And my smile fades
And I can't believe what I'm seeing
And his eyes flash
And he knows I know
And he smiles
And I know he'll turn and run
with his ears turned back
smiling
And I will always see him running
with his ears turned back
and his teeth
smiling
And I hear him
And he's smiling.
And he has run away
smiling
But he'll be back
And so I sit and wait
Staring once again into the eyes of the familiar stranger
Those eyes, strangely familiar
And the silence is so thick
it's smothering
And I can't hear
And I can't see
But I think I know something...
And I think it's this...
I'm late
And
I'm hungry
And
I'm frightened
And
I'm home.
So this is the end
or the beginning
or the middle
I'm not sure
But I know enough
not to blink while I'm smiling
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