Watch What Happens, Alana Williamson

My hand Clutching, Grasping for dear life Tensing and clenching, as perspiration percolates at its palm. Jerking back and forth to weave wonder onto the page, to destroy its own image, to draft a new narrative. Intertwined in a pair to comfort, to soothe, to cry out for compassion, bound together like a promise, An oath broken as they open and whip across my skin, an effort to convince me of my errors. Caressing the surface, Flailing in exclamation, Smushed and balled to cap off the pain, Stroking the air of impossibility  Reaching out for the unknown Wrapped around one another, again bound, promised Protected

The grass is green The night is cool, and the stars? The stars are infinite, expanding, dotting dreams about the world. And tonight I am free. I fall to my knees and hear the shuffling in the grass. But I’m not in the grass anymore, I’m beyond it. My hands are pressed into one other, protecting a promise. My eyes are squeezed shut, and my heart no longer beats for me. Instead, it soars for you And we’re speaking And you know me, and I’ve found myself whispering to you I’ve found freedom and faithfulness and friendship in our prayer,  In our promise

A melody unfinished stirring in me. With lyrics half written, mumbling softly A clutter of calling piano keys Notes I grasped for in your absence, your voice whispered to me in fragments of who I knew you to be. Constantly playing in the back of my brain, some graced with hopefulness, or resounding in pain, A song still unfinished, The permanent refrain of “I need you” It’s spontaneous praise to our god. It’s helpless poems & the birth of new songs. It’s the silence of a house awaiting his laughter. It’s the breeze through the trees and the lack screaming after, it’s the pacing and racing and making a choice to move and to work and to find a new voice. To finish a song, and to write till I’m bored of quaking and shaking in the numbness of not having you, and embracing the moment of knowing truth was present in your person, and blooms in these dedications to the man who grounds our family. Thank you for Pop-Pop The Unfinished Music :) Half Written Lyrics: You bared your heart You sp...

Saucers, beating bowls of brown, crayola colored crescents, expanding and retreating, veering right and slinking center, wandering into the wonders of my world—Thank you for my perception. Streams flowing, faltering round t he peaks and valleys of my cheeks, releasing words unspoken in water. Salty and sparkling, retrieving the rain, the pain, the remnants of ruin and all that remains—My tears, thank you for falling. Unbound and bouncing, caressing my face, soft and wild, begrudgingly embraced. This head of hair is my crown, take its rightful place protecting my dreams from floating to space. This natural, never ending supply of black beauty—Thank you for being mine. This body, crafted by god, cradled by angels and passed to my mom, can carry my soul and my songs and for that I am grateful…Thank you to the gracious god who made me beautiful, even though I feel I’m not. Thank you for this body, a tent for terrific plans yet to come! A body, my body, a house for hope.