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night. green.
You poured blue wine on my shoulders.
It serpented down the canyon of my backbone; and kissed me lilac one vertebra at a time; and crawled around the dimples of my lower back,
sleeping and slipping through my thighs You were Adonis. I am Dionysus.

#epsomsaltdiaries (part 4)

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Being alone in my dying bath listening to “my future” is the most peace I’ve experienced in months.

If only I had more gin.

.

My knees come out of water like mountain ranges, with the quiet ravine of Mars in-between.

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I’ve been patiently teaching myself that I am weak and good only for clowning.

You made me feel like a little prince that day.

And now I am unbelieving and crysome for craving your presence.

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My skin in spotted like white giraffe with charcoal and ink.

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I’ll know it’s time to sleep when I ran out of paper.

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I’ve worshiped multiple gods, of youth, witchcraft, flora, gold, applause, humility, silence, limits, adventure, love, anger, knowledge…

but I remained faithful to only one, god of poetry and wine.

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I am not noise. I am not bright. I am not a drum.

Play me like a cello, with fingers and bows.

-

Let's walk to the river
and pick strawberries.
we'll sit by the forest.
talk about ancient gods
and myths and poems
that don't seem too far anymore.
frogs will come out
and stick their little paws
on your knees and listen.
stories will pour
as river flaws away.
birds will quiet.
snakes will round.
life slows down
as will the breath.
and trees that seemed silent before
will be loud with approval.

we'll have all the time in the world.
your hold will be strong and forceful.
my neck will stretch and wrinkle.
and the tower
that we passed,
built to honor
goddess of fauns,
shall stare at our direction,
with chambers full of
wet, dark creatures,
and doors,
soaked in moss and saliva.

you've been my reward.
I'll be your sacrifice.

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I put my clothes in paper bags
and took them to the dumpster.
light was small and nose was sharp.
air was yellow and city slept on.
and as the bags hit the metal floor,
I thought of your body hitting pavement
that day, in rain and cold.

I let go almost as well as you did.

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In the beginning of yoga class we are asked to dedicate our practice and meditation to something or someone who we love or feel passionate about. I have been dedicating my practices to various people and causes and places. And I thought I chose them based on who needed my strength the most. But now, looking back, I realize I dedicated my practice to those who I missed, places I loved... starting form my grandmother to my aunt's dog, from my former bedroom to my favorite row at the Opera House of Tbilisi.

All this time I was sending my thoughts, soul and energy to where my heart is.

Today I start my advanced yoga teacher training and I want to consciously dedicate it to Tbilisi, my hometown.

ლამაზქალაქი.