the moon at five a.m.

As I walked alone,

the crescent moon suspended,

fully I caught the morning dew

and the crispness

of air in late autumn

The five o'clock twilight

The weight lifted,

though carried with me

The gate in front of the courtyard

wet with mist

I saw a moment of the sun

though it was not yet clear

a vision of a star

hugged closely to the moon

I felt myself

alone

but not lonesome.

(Melissa West)

It has been very hard for me to write poetry consistently since 2009, when I graduated college and went down a path of wandering. I am not sure poetry comes as easily to me as it once did. Last night I wrote a poem. Staten Island is still hurting. The hurricane that passed through left my hometown, New Dorp, in a state of disrepair. Homes are gone, or largely broken down, as are families that I knew from my childhood.

The last few weeks have been the heaviest I have felt in a long while. The Dance Jam goes on, the galleries have and will reopen. I have listened to a lot of Simon and Garfunkel. The stars have danced for me.

The outpouring of community seems to be the most positive outcome of this whole thing. I see the streets filled with people walking, something that was less apparent prior to the storm. Two weeks later,  people are still out in the streets helping their neighbors.

This year has been an amazing experience of losing, growing, learning... I could not have asked for a more rich twenty-fifth year. As I turn twenty-six in several weeks, I feel deeply introspective but not in a way that feels confining. In fact, it feels freeing. 

Elton John sings Tiny Dancer. The sun pours through the windows. Though the sun has consistently appeared, I had not felt the sun in a long time. Things within me slowly struggle to return to a safe place. I am feeling positive about the future and feel a sense of elation about moving forward.