I judged you greatly when you switched jobs over and over again,

dragging your family, dragging my energy through mud and telephone wires,

it confused the hell out of me why you simply didn’t land.

Now I see you as brave, you had the cajones to get out of positions that

didn’t feel right to you.

When you put them on as a coat they felt baggy, or constricting,

clumsy on your body.

I remember when you called me weeping, drinking, feeling weak,

feeling aimless.

And my heart was so happy you called me,

my heart was so happy to beat with

your heart and say mijo, mijo, mijo.

Now I’m sailing this year, over hills and valleys, and ocean crossings.

Like your voice on the phone call, my mind has played delirious tricks on me,

Old, old whispers of not enoughness, of too big for britches, of you do you think

you are missy echos.

There has been hints of benevolence too, little cracks of faith that it all works

out for the good when you keep coming back at it on your knees.

It’s brave to say help me please and it’s the most soul forming, bone setting,

blood pulsing thing I can do to take that one step into lands unknown.

Of course It sets the old voices a whirlin,

of course I’m looking for some handrails and guidebooks and yelp reviews.

Is there a goddamn map in here?

You know where.

I feel as though my heart is glowing red under some muddy gauze.

I felt your heartbeat when you called me that evening, I sensed it’s heat and it

was full of life.

It said to my heart, even now, reaching back into memories and brain folds and

naked feelings of kin, it was claiming it wasn’t done yet.

Why is this process so costly?

I may never know.

You hurt me this year, I woke up to write a business plan and instead

your face mirrored up in my fingertips, love has ballooned in my belly.

I’m scared.

I’m so scared I’ll fail.

What is failing any way?

I felt you brave in that moment you felt like a failure.

I felt you triumph as you laid it on the altar of another.

I’m going to disappoint some of them.

All of them. Is it over my head?

Who would want to talk to me about anything?

Oh yeah, my brother.

My brother called me crying one night.

He called me and I picked up and I listened.

We connected.

And he taught me something of myself.

Then and now.