The first thing in the morning, I head to Cafe Slavia. It is on the 17 tram route, and is half way between the Faculty building and the Professor's flat, right on #9's route too, and old town square is in walking distance. The view out the window is the river and the palace. For me, this is the center of my own poem. Everything moves out from here. The internet signal doesn't work for me here, so I drink coffee and eat breakfast without the digital connection and other people to distract me from my own thoughts.
I've been thinking many things. Daring to hope, dream.
Yesterday, I dreamed again of the pink houses and owls. This time, I was driving between places in an old Ford pick up, blue, like my dad had when I was small. Camera equipment in the backseat, my middle daughter in the passenger seat, and Bluegrass on the radio. Windows down. Adventure.
I see this in my mind clear as anything. I hold it there, cherish it like a lovey. Close.
I really have no idea what my next year will look like. I have never done many of these things. Still, I am moving towards whatever is coming and taking it one today at a time.
What else am I dreaming for myself? What kind of a list can I make? I'm not sure and this part is creating chaos in my life.
I want to make a difference with my art. I want my children to know I was not silent.
I want a little farm house, with a white and yellow kitchen and a red cooking pot. I want flowers in the yard and chickens. I want a wide front porch with a swing. I want music in my life and laughter and faith. I want love. I want words. I want to be heard when I speak and seen for my own humanity. I want to fight and feel it. I want to grow food and care for the land. I want to stand as equal to everyone I enter a relationship with. I want to believe again. Believe in magic and love and trust. Because I know that a white picket fence is no good against monsters, I want to dance with them instead and serve them cake and then send them sugar drunk and spinning on their way. I want magic. I want impossible things. I have to believe that these things are possible with faith and trust and a wee bit of pixie dust. I want to wander until I am found and held close and let go again. I want my heart to stop twisting and wrenching in my chest. I want to dance and sing. I want to breathe. I want to believe.