Amazing

Sitting in ever a home as I ever had
With ever a love as I ever knew.
Smiling heart wide as ever could
Living bright as heaven can.
I know the things that people know
Once they've grown,
Once they're old.
I know your heart and you know mine
We'll keep eachother safe through time.

Comfort and joy, light and love.
A thousand thoughts a thousand miles an hour
Grief and not a little sorrow fly hand in hand with wonder
With grace
With gratitude.
Truly smiling
Eyes singing and arms high
I could fly tonight.
I have cried and I will do more
But I'm lifted up and carried home
By the hand that heals me
That comforts me
That brings me out of darkness
'I was lost and now am found.
Was blind, but now I see.'

Tick-Tock.

Strange, how fast things change.
Always reserved the right to change my mind.
Never say never
Say never
Not ever.
Somehow this sudden dream so close I can touch it
Hold it in my hand before it flies away.
Little butterfly, in your pink and yellow shifting hues
I don't remember, just
Don't remember ever knowing this before.
Someday I always said
Someday I'd wake up and I would know that this was it.
So forget running on principle,
Run eyes closed instead.
Eyes closed and heart open wide,
This leap of faith ain't so far, after all.

Travel blog

Shuffled my travel blogs over to mad-abandon.blogspot.com. Melodramatic poetry will remain here. Carry on...

Photo graphic.

Tiny painted dolls,
I flip through a gallery of the dead
Out of curiosity, of morbid fascination
With how death's wings brush on a white sheen
Mottled canvas, but each one with its
Sculpted lips in perfect Shiseido red.
Little polished fingertips
Clownish, I think.
Rude, even.
That this strange and tragic thing
Should be hand-drawn in crayon,
In magic marker.

Dis. Appoint.

And is it you who set me up,
Or I who lets it all fall?
Finding little snares and bear-toothed traps along the way
Some set free and some
Catch hold, all the same
And now that I have this information
The question is, as always,
Can I put it to good use,
or will it string me up once more?
Leaving me with my shame
and you with your disappointment
Again,
and again,
and again.

Don't expect much of me, I said.
Cause if you do, I'll fail you.
Every.
Single.
Time.

Coffee.

Sitting in a small coffee shop
I sit, waiting for a friend
Waiting for the sunlight to be just right.
Rearranging the pieces of my world scattered about on this
Scarred tabletop
I can put them together, today
I have most of my puzzle-shaped bits
And some of them even fit.

I have always.

Two steps forward
Three steps back
Fourth step sideways and
Throw it all away
It just takes one bad day
One wrong move
One.
Too.
Many.
Nothing to say, nothing that
Could ever help but that
I know.
More than any of us should,
I know.
And while it would be more awful than anything I could imagine,
While my every day would be darker, the whole world lose a layer of meaning that I would never get back.
Despite all of that,
I would understand.
God knows how I would understand.

Never Let Me Go.

"Maybe none of us really understand what we've lived through or feel we've had enough time"

Six-and-a-half.

When my patients answer the question:
"So I can best evaluate the effectiveness of the pain medication I am about to administer: how would you rate your pain, from a zero to a ten -
zero being no pain,
and ten being the worst pain ever ever"
-with-
"Ten."
I think: you haven't met my father.  You have no idea what a "Ten" is.
He eats pain for breakfast, and smiles back.
Talk to me after you've fractured a femur.
Let alone both.
At least, talk to me after you've experienced true bone pain.
Talk to me after you've had that baby,  (but also after you've given it up to someone else so as to also have to have given up the wonderfully healing effects of oxytocin...)
Come to me after you have buried a child,
After you have watched a good man die.
Or left your dignity in the dust for naught but Love,
and while, in the meantime, I won't withhold medication or treat you any different on the surface...
Talk to me then,
And I won't judge you.
I am thankful every day that I don't know what "Ten." feels like.
But the days I see what it looks like,
I am thankful for you.
For your ignorance,
For my forgiveness.
For our shared understanding that you're afraid and so am I,
But that neither of us
Really know.

Black-and-Blue

I don't want your future,
No, I don't need your past
I'll just take you here
And now and maybe it will last
Forever
And maybe we will turn and walk away.

But know in this that I still need you
Here and now that I still want you
Lift your eyes, boy
The light still shines through
I always have and do still love you.

In the arms of the ocean.

"No need to pray, no need to speak...
Though the pressure is hard to take
It's the only way I can escape
It seems a heavy choice to make..."

"I'm not giving up,
I'm just giving in."

Wish for the stars.

"I love the stars," you said.
I loved you for that.
That and the sparks in your eyes,
The books you read and
The secret smile we shared.

I reach and grasp at straw
At the sharp grass blades outside
My door.
A present, here,
A fantasy world I'm not sure I ever wanted
Real.
Yes or no,
To commit or back down
To go through
Or be true?
Truth is, I'm just not there.
And I don't know if I'll ever be
But I'll do it anyway because
You want me to.

"I wish," you said
Or at least I saw it in your eyes
I wish too,
I wish lots of things,
That I could give up wandering nights
By the river,
Over a freeway-
L' appel du vide
Singing in my every step.

Cold.

I used to be good at everything.
I used to be that girl,
Perfect body, perfect husband, perfect life.
I could teach it all
I knew it all and could do it better than you.
Trying to love an evolution
I thought I had it,
I thought I had figured it all out
All about choice and blame and responsibility
About love, forgiveness, all those things that matter.
Fleeting inspiration, gone now with the last rays of summer
Flakes away with the last layers of Joy, Truth, and Clarity.
Holes burning bigger through the flag I carried home
Leave me standing in the snow,
Staring at my footsteps.

Out of focus.

"I never knew daylight could be so violent"
I eat, sleep, and breathe the dark.
'Do you still?'
Every day.
I want a revolution
Some kind of resolution
I feel it screaming through my
Breaking and flowing through my
Fast as the water holds me
Takes everything I have just not to.
Everything I hold and want and need just not to.
Feel like I can't hang on to anything.

Side effect.

I'm tired of dreamland.
Never know when it's gonna take me by
Surprise.
Suddenly swimming in pudding,
Breathing in mud
And screaming in little paper pieces that just
Fall to the ground.
Too dizzy to think,
Too well to let go,
I push the trees back out the window,
And the ghosts from the door
I go back to my work
Keeping this place to myself.
And through it,
Through and through
A small and perfect clarity
I know what's missing, here
Which makes me want it so much more.

Now and Then.

Home alone and wandering
Lost between the tearing sheets
Torn between sleep and waking
Walk my hall with heavy feet
Your skin, like all the sun's warmth in winter
Like melting sweet things
Like leaves and a river and everything you could ever call
Soft...
It keeps me calm, on nights like this.
I won't forget, no I can't forsake
All the wonder and belonging
Though we hold a tragic distance
Would you have it any other way?
Star-crossed in a storybook, this.
The stuff that makes dreams real
Sticks a little, to my fingers.
But I keep drifting back and forth,
Just filling the time
Between.

Just.

And we,
Who are we to judge?
Is it for us to say whether a man is right or wrong, in the end?
And where's the line, between?
Between man's place, his own authority,
And heaven's?
What's the difference in divine discourse
And less fate, more choice?
Who are we, to mete God's sentence?
Or how are we ever satisfied by the justice we so crave?
An eye for an eye,
A man's dignity for a nation
And how does it help us all the more that this man is dead?
Or that we loved eachother, all the same?
That's the difference, then:
Our forgiveness in a warrior's end, whether his shot in the dark was true.
Or our fleeting righteousness in his profane disgrace?
For he,
Even he...
Was just a man, too.

Care.

Reaching out to rescue, when my own
Boat's half-flooded
Might pull me down,
Might as well have company in this sinking ship...
What's right and what's wrong isn't so black-and-white
Toe the line between want and need
Blur the edge we're living on.
I'm a nurse, it's what I've always done
Just finding another way to care for someone else instead...
Play Munchausen-by-proxy backward and you can hear
The devil whispering between the details.

Best-laid plans.

"I can't see where I'm going"
Two-step slowing
A tender autumn glowing in the trees.
Golden liquid ease in my fingers
Solid dreaming fears hand-over-fist
Speak out. Drift off, nose up
It all begins with this.
Another third-act twist
It's hard to keep doing nothing, keep
Picking up the leaves
Just because it's something
All crimson-and-fire
Breathing in the ocean, but still helpless in the tide
Helpless to do anything but
Open wide.

Breakfast.

Keeping a strange clock
Sleep all day, and wander the nights
Cook quietly through the sunrise
Search for meaning, purpose, shared experience
Drift a little, and open my skin in welcome.

Skye.

Someday,
I will want someone as much as you want me.
Today is just not that day, and that someone will just never be you.

Slow.

Step back.
Sort of scattered marbles on the floor
I pivot- I didn't mean that.
Glaring headlights leave me raw and burning
Hand up.
Sort of wind-whipped blades of grass beneath my shoulders
I trip- how did I get here?
I forgot how being single means getting graceful at the let-down again.
All coming down, we all fall down
Roll over.
It's all in my phrasing, your body language
I wanted to warn you about my feral streak
Unbroken.
Wild-eyed and running for the door the instant I feel a brush of
Iron or leather meant to keep me.
Keep it laughing light in soft focus
Anything else is still too
Sharp.

N.R.E. and other drugs.

I'm afraid I'll never love anyone like that again.
I know, I know.
"How many relationships have you had in your life...?"
"And how many of them have lasted forever?"
None, it's true. I'll find another relationship I know.
But that love.
That love lasts forever, and I'm afraid I'll never feel like that again.
That rushing breath of need,
Fearsome and sweet
Holy and sacred and the very original sin.
That immediate understanding of Eve's secret dilemma:

Having eaten of your apple,
How can I taste another?
And will it ever, ever taste so true?

I knew in that moment that this, this is why this was invented
This, why it's forbidden, taboo.
I gave my everything in that instant, and received
It all in return- my whole body and my
Soul and my truth.
My ever-loving truth.
You took it all with you when you went
And left me here, on my knees with my head and my
Bleeding heart in my silly hands
As if they could speak for it.
Here: will I ever know that peace and that chaos and that
Terrible beauty, ultimate and defiant
That death, that life.
That immortality that only poets and dreamers and true lovers know
That I found in your arms...
Could I have it back?
Could I ever spread my wings like that and fly, again?

And if not, do you remember me the same?
Are your arms as filled and satisfied with God
As they ever were with me...?
And can you see and tell me, so that I can
Stop looking for you.
Stop waiting for you.

And start letting go.

"Set Fire to the Rain"

Sent away, off toward fate,
Toward some grand destiny
I relinquish my desire, my attachment
The Things I held on to so tightly.
But find I'm still grasping
Still stumbling a little in the grass.
Sweet autumn storm brings that tinny smell of wet concrete
Washing in my window with the rain.
This serpent sets up for its lunch
I set up for the winter.
Playing catch up.

Find a pattern in the chaos
Heave my butterfly net at anything that moves
How did I get here again, with the rolling clouds and
Roaring thunder
Sneaking up on me again?
Left at last with nothing to blame it on,
I have only myself to fault.
But I'm not knocked down so far-
Not swimming so hard to stay afloat, no
I burn with a light, a sword of hope and a blazing lantern love
For me.
For mine.
For this, and you, and all.
"I set fire to the rain..."
And watch the smoke rise up and away.

Porch.

It's days like this.
Days the only things I see clearly
Are my moon-scarred feet
Your snow nose
Another glass-bottomed sunrise
Another hope-fast whisper in the
Green grass breeze.
It's days like this
That get sticky.
Sticky-stuck wide open in my hair.

Ten principles.

The trouble with perfection is,
I get more out of my own mistakes
Than I ever could from your perfection.

Most days I am good at being thankful.
I have so much, I am so much.
We are.
But today, I am completely overwhelmed by my own attempts
at radical self-reliance.
I have never in my life been so fail.
But there are lots of things in life that I'm experiencing now
That I've never been...
My own contributions to this funny gift economy
Have left me scraping a little,
Scratching in the dust to get through til next week, or whenever.
I wish I knew better.
Princess fallen, pretty dress all in tatters
All wet and muddy from trying to cross the river by myself.
Trying to fix the sprinklers, the wires, the cars, my bike.
A lesson in pride,
In humility.
In asking for help.
Sheltered so long, too long -
In keeping me comfortable, I was kept from a body
Of knowledge that I could sure use now.
Learning precious lessons about the how-to of Life
Frustratingly late.

I keep paying it forward, you know.
That bright morning, all white and red.
I lost it and cried for a moment, and
Your hand glued my eggshell back together.
For that I'd keep giving until I'd none left
I own nothing.
I am in debt for it all to your kindness, compassion.
I'm just renting this life, now.
Just keeping it safe til next week, or whenever.
So I'm thankful for piles of laundry,
For peeling paint,
Dead batteries and the hole in my shoe.
Thankful to get to wear shoes at all.

Sail.

"and I still hold on hope/ and I won't let you choke..."

Back on a Mumford kick again.

And a-swim in a sea of WTFOMGBBQ.

Got a list a mile long, I once wrote.

One mile, or 5,400 doesn't matter.

It's still too far.

Still hold on hope.

Still keep one eye on the prize,

And the other on the horizon,

Waiting for the flash that means

I'm coming home.

God, I don't know which way to turn

My life is rich with opportunity,

Possibility

I have only to reach out and find the strength to close my hand around

One thing

One line

One bright island or another

But instead I trust the wind that moves me and just

Keep spinning.

Drumming song.

Don't put me up.

Don't hold me up there where I can fall.

'cause I will.

I'll prove you right, every time.

I'll prove empty and unfit.

Hopeless and hapless.

Less than the paper I'm written on.

I hope that, at 28, I can learn this lesson and move on.

Not follow in those ancient footsteps and be doomed to

Pay my grandmother's ransom.

Made a habit, of late, of jumping right in,

Of punching my every fear straight in the face

Of praying that the icy cold, that gasp of breath

The sound might drown out the raging

between my ears.

"but as the water filled my mouth/ it couldn't wash the echoes out"

And I hear it still, that echo calling quiet

I can't. You must understand.

Hated that it hurt so very much

And loved every minute of it.

Loved the challenge, been living on the edge so long.

Now that I've turned the corner, will I find this worthwhile?

Or will it prove empty and unfit, and will I ever return,

To that drumming in my ears,

Following close the song

Pounding, knocking away at the sky, the door, the ceiling,

Anything that will just

Knock back.

Us.

Oh, to feel loved.
To feel connected, together, toward.
For a shared experience, some validation
That you and I are doing something worthwhile.
All each of us ever wants is to feel worthwhile,
Important.
Right.
Right here and now and always
We just want our story to be heard.
Humans, pack animals every one.

Whom.

Buzzing alive, nibble at my toes.
Drift far and wide, bring home the bones.
A smoking gun creeps,
Look down the windows
Hear my harping and listen close.

Said goodbye, a little green circle over my heart
Or inferior vena cava, really - the vessel through which
All things return.
Farewell, adieu, burning impulse drives me into
A leap of faith, or something like that.
Not ready, not ready to sleep just yet
So I sit with my glass
And my cigarette lit
And watch the crazy go by.
Getting closer to a place of comfort
Of ease.
It's been difficult so long, too long I'm ready for a change.
Flip switch, panic drift
That call to calm, to lay down arms,
"against a sea of troubles".

The #2 drives by, despite their waving and calling.
I have never taken the bus, here.
Not sure which waves higher, your hand or your
Mounds of pungent flesh.

Cigarette burnt out, I didn't really want it anyway
Just lit because the pack was open and
That's what you do.

I wish a lot of things into the morning sunlight
Maybe it's just that I can't stand going home to an
Empty bed, anymore.

Sticks.

If I never have to hear the question
If I never again have to tell a woman that there's nothing we can do,
That she didn't do anything, couldn't have known.
If I never have to swallow my tears
Put on a brave face
Choke back the wave of smothering grief
Washing out from this mother's mouth.
And walk into another room, filled with flowers and balloons and butterfly wishes, dizzy from the contrast...

If I never again have to hold her hand while she wails
My baby, my baby.

I would be ok with that.

I know its not my grief.
I know it's not my story, not my baby, not my loss
I am just the messenger.
But I feel her pain.
As a nurse, as a woman, as a human being I am struck here.
I am helpless to do more than bear witness to an ultimate sorrow.
We, unquiet shepherds- Charon's sidekicks charged with working the other side of a revolving door.

Birth & death really ain't that different anyway.
Either way, it's generally a 10 in the "Oh, fuck" factor.

Cartoon clouds, now the only witnesses to my inflated sense of self-importance sneer at me from on high.
As if clouds could sneer.
And so I let go, after a mad moment of empathy and understanding of suffering.
I let fly a giggle at my own ridiculousness
I am my own judge and jury, here on the high court of my porch.
Me, Charon, and the clouds, all.

All.

Back to good.
Better than that, even.
Hopeful, eyes bright and heart-light,
I turn toward a rising sun.
God, give me strength.
Give me the courage to find love and forgiveness for myself,
To find peace.
Yes, I have had enough.
I draw the line here in the dust,
Between what is and what was
Between myself and I, just behind my own feet.
And in taking the first steps forward,
I find I am getting it right.
Shed of my fear, my hurt, the things I held on to so tightly as if they mattered.
I just wasn't ready to let them go, yet.
Needed a course in ego from an unlikely teacher.
Rent and repaired, whole and perfect,
Shed light on my passion, my offering, my connection with All.
I am God's perfect child.
I have the potential to be powerful, but power only measured by how I lift others up. Measured by how I give.
What I have been given, I shall give.
And how I am loved, I shall love.
What I have been shown, though- I keep close to my heart. It is precious, and secret.
And beautiful.

Burningman 2011 Or, Why I Shaved My Head

So, I buzzed it GI-Jane style before Burningman last year after an "oops" by a friend who was helping me buzz it short-but-not-that-short... Anyway, it was awesome. I loved the super easy hairdo (yeah, no hairdo at all) last year, it kept me cool on hot days and I did fine with sunscreen and hankies. As expected, it also presented me with a wonderful challenge (and we all know how much I love those) to my vanity, and my sense of self-worth. I'm used to being relatively pretty, attractive, whatever. So, minus the hair, how pretty am I? Am I still attractive? Does it matter? I really loved the chance to kinda deconstruct my own vanity and re-examine my self-worth, and found that a lot of people gave me compliments on my eyes or my smile.
Enter this year's Burningman theme: "Rites of Passage."
Hella.
After a car accident and a divorce, I fell apart a bit this year. I have been looking forward to Burningman as a turning point, a ritual experience that would help me shed my skin a little and integrate the things I have learned over this rough year.
So, in my ridiculously dramatic, occasionally hippy-dippy style, I brought clippers with me to the playa and upon arriving, drove promptly to the trash fence at the point where it is furthest from Black Rock City, and buzzed my hair off. It was sunrise. It was perfect. (Yes, burners, I sat on a sheet and rolled it carefully so as to avoid making MOOP out of my hair.) I drove slowly back to camp, where the first friend I saw- Mister Jellyfish- greeted me with a whole-hearted playa hug, and told me I was beautiful.
A wild week ensued of traipsing about alone and with friends, watching many a sunrise, nursing many a hangover.
I lived almost total spontaniety, following my personal theme: "Yes". To all my friends that I didn't find, and made plans that I didn't follow through with - I'm sorry. I will make plans with you again soon. I really needed to go live in the moment there, and am really glad I did. The playa worked its magic, giving me incredible opportunities at every turn and I was able to take them again and again because I wasn't riding around looking for "Camp Green Pony."
I made mistakes.
I learned from them.
I danced the story of my life in front of a whale-shaped art car. I fell down. I got back up again.
I taught several hundred people the "Official Black Rock City 2011 Battle Cry" inspired by my roomie. Dad, you would have been so proud watching me jump up on the crowded bar at Jub Jub and Ashram Galactica to command the entire crowd with my silliness.
I giggled until my cheeks hurt.
I leaned hard on my wonderful friends. Some of them leaned back. We all held eachother up.
I cried hard, too.
I cried for my marriage. I wore my wedding gown on what would have been my 7th wedding anniversary and walked a pilgrimage to the Temple of Transition. There I hung a smiling photo from my wedding day. I cried for all the things we said to eachother, for all the things we didn't, for all the things I did wrong, and all the ways it could have been, but wasn't. I cried for the love I still have, and always will. I laid there in the dust in a pouf of purple, until I realized that I have had enough "poor me" and left that with the photo behind in the Temple, too.
I cried for the fear, the pain and uncertainty after wandering blind in the snow. I am no longer afraid, and no longer hurt. I have only the blessing of a renewed appreciation for life.
I cried for the people I have let down, lately. This includes myself. For the family I want to know better. For the person I was once, and will be again, but am not now...
I cried because my shower bag didn't work, too.
And then, on Sunday, just before the Temple burned, Mister Jellyfish saw me again and said "Hey Chels! Wanna shave our heads?"
What else could I say, but "Yes!"
I'm sorry we didn't get time to shave your head, Jelly. I needed to get to the Temple.
6 or 8 razors and an entire can of shaving cream later, my head smooth as a baby's butt in places, and sandpapery in others (he did a darn fine job with the tools at hand!) I went off into the playa twilight, and watched as beautiful cleansing flames lifted my grief, my joy, my prayers, and my commitment to myself into the sky; completing the ritual that was my Rite of Passage.
To all of you who love me, who bear witness to my transition, who have given me strength and wisdom and caring when I needed it, and a smack upside my bald little head when I needed it:
Thank you.
In my father's words, at my last rite of passage, that now inspire me in a new light:
I love you.
I have always loved you.
I will always love you.

Skyward.

You, who cast a shadow on my doubt,
Who raised me up
A "lion-hearted girl"
Hold me close in this smoking twilight
And then push me far away.
Giving space, for me or for you?
Tracking footprints through the dawn,
Wounded and limping
Needing reassurance,
Feeling blind and blindly,
If you saw that ray of sun, could you fall in love again?
Do you still, every time?
And is that why you keep your eyes shut so tight?

Far from home.

Long roller-coaster night.
Coasting into the station, I step out of my cocoon for a minute,
To pluck a star from the still-dark sky.
I let it drift between my fingers and
Rest on top my palm.
I harvest another, and more,
And lay them gently in the trees across the street
One by one until they
Spark aflame, orange and blue glowing.
I tap the grass to set them twinkling,
And by the time I am done, I see I have
Borrowed them all, every sparkling star for my own.
I look up and I realize
Dawn has come over the mountains, and my little charges
Are far from home.

Singing.

Step-two-three
One-two-three
Keep pushing, keep going.
Keep your head up, girl
One foot in front of the other
Keep singing and dancing
Swinging and laughing through
Another Sunrise.
Picking my way among the weeds,
Breathing in the night air
And out my heavy dreams.

I am bright, I am aching.
I am learning
I am temporary
I am lost, I have lost.

Prince of Travellers.

I took your light and
And mine and I made a map
It led to you and it led to me and
I drew it down into my pocket,
Secret and safe,
"I'm always in this twilight, in the shadow of your heart"
"I knew that somehow, I could find my way back."
Muse and master,
Murder and mischief.
That spark and glow,
You've managed to keep me captive, too.
In an instant, I realize that the thrill for you, as for me, is in the chase, and if I've ever been caught, it's now, but if I'm ever been caught, it's over.
Keep it difficult, keep a distance and a break, arm's length is the only place you're ever quite comfortable.
Too close burns too hot, play this game and we both win.
If it sounds like a goodbye, that's because
It is.

Melisande.

Or, "Second act turning point."

Mother, with your beautiful children
Love them, listen to them,
Their songs of simple joy and sticky-fingered afternoons
Hold on to every one before it's swept away.

We go, our paths arching twisting threads
We come back, complete somehow
Back where we started, with new information.
Run this ellipse long, just hoping we double back
Before it's too late.

Gazing, sidelong and wistful out and in.
Every step another chance to ask the question
Is it time, yet?
You always asked me, is it time yet?
The answer, not yet but soon.
In the end, did what was right,
What had to be done.
I've yet to be wrong, yet to fail.
I don't fail at anything and I'm not about to start.
Wherever the wind takes me,
I always said.

And so I asked the moon, as she stared rudely through the windows
I asked her about my path, if it was right,
If I'd ever look back in regret,
If I was making a mistake, failing myself somehow
“Will there be rainbows, day after day / what will I need to be free?”
The moon, in her wisdom, simply went on with her silent watch over the little creatures of the night,
The bats' and the owls' quiet time-keeping
And rose ever slowly in the sky.

Air. Port.

My heart and my head always have this war, there standing on the curb,
A brief skirmish between will and destiny.
My soul's giants turned for a moment on eachother,
In a quiet moment's evaluating pause:
I could stay. I could just turn back around and walk away from this sliding door
Turn back into the gray sunlight
Hold fast to something I once called home.
I know my way, here – could walk the green hills
And dark rivers with my eyes closed.
I feel a deep and longing comfort here,
A closeness.
An ease.
Bones' belonging ache.
But I turn, in that instant, momentum sweeping me on.

Fabric.

An idea flashed before me.
A what if, a may be, hap, or will.
A thing done in love, or in haste?
Selfish or selfless?
Just another rescue?
Or a gift, an offering.
No strings attached, that's sure.
No bond or expectation.
Just a contract, an opportunity.
A solution.
What if.
What if you,
You and I,
If we were to,
Weave a story out of cloth
That was part truth and part the fabric,
Out of necessity.
You and I, warp and weft
Tied and not,
But still free as we will...
Cogs spinning, I am not one to be swayed by reason or doubt.
Once made, always stayed...
You and I
What if?

A bright fire.

I am fierce.
Fierce and beautiful,
Lustful lustre in my rolling eyes.
I look over my shoulder once, twice
But charge ahead, a bright little fire
Bursting in an instant into dance
Into song or flame or any other heated endeavor
That might distract or comfort me.
I find a strange clarity in these moments,
Moving close enough to breathe in the smoke
Of my own burning heart.
Soot and mirrors light my way.

Tell me, please.
Tell me you traced her curves, and drew her a line,
Hook and sinker.
Give me a stinging embrace, close.
Tell me everything, that it might help me find a strange
Distance.
That I might not ache so much.
The only thing I'm really looking forward to
Is soon half a world away, or a whole one.
Give it back, please.
I want it back.
I find this character closer than I ever thought,
Maybe finding some acceptance of myself between the lines,
Love and penance well-dealt,
Some redemption burned in my thigh, too.
Or my heavy feet, as it were.

Given a choice, a fork in my path:
My life's wild passion on one side,
And 180 degrees of the unknown on the other.
Some game, spiteful fuel for my stubborn fire,
Feed my pride, my folly, maybe one great mistake.
Maybe not.

You, wolves.
Tearing pieces to take with you
Tearing me down in your hunger, your jealousy.
I am toxic, and furious.
I am fierce and lovely.
I fall down, I get up, I keep running.
Just to spite your teeth.

Broken.

I didn't ask for this.
My obstinacy versus your pig-headedness
My grief, your abandonment
This momentary lapse of reason
Moment after moment.
My fear, my cold hands and dry heart.
Wrung so of all of it.
Draw a line in the drifting sand,
Draw an ocean in my head,
A desert in the sky
Go toe-to-toe with Titans,
And let's just see if the
Flood comes in.
I didn't ask for this.
Keep your lesson,
Your walls of glass.
Knee-jerk high
Down-dress and upbraid.
Choice soundly made.
Goodbye, then, it is.
Good luck, wish things had been different.
Your patience, my forgiveness enough
To keep us coming back for more.
My dream, your prayer
Dreaming new life to faith and love...
This waterfall promise
Frozen.

Secondary intention.

Anything but this, anywhere but here.

I am baptised in the water, cleaned of my sins

I am holy, and whole.

Breathing and breath.

I cast my net wide for rescue.

I'm learning to call for help.

Standing tall and moving on,

But still hanging on every word

Still a piece of me waiting.

More careful.

This? This is the ultimate walk of shame.
Past the colors on the wall I know so well, the letters that spell my regret, my humility.
I stumble, halting steps toward turning tables.
Now I'm the waiting one.
Story carefully crafted, questions already answered.
I lift my heavy eyelids at ragged breathing- I don't belong here.
I don't belong here, but I'm too afraid to leave and too ashamed to not be alone.

It hurts, it hurts.

Tonight is not the night.

Bad Idea Friday commences

In a puff of flame, the bare night laughs

Bow-legged and rickety, my resolve bows in the breeze

The moon sings me a siren song,

And beckons my way.

I get this way, at night

A breath and a wish

A one-two step closer.

Shadow-boxing my way to the finish in my puppet strings.

Please sing to me again,

If only I could hear your song again

I might be ok.

Craps. Or, Reset.

Lost 2 days to a demon in a dice game.
Snakeyes, and I'm in debt.
Found the diamond I was digging for,
Hope this cavern's cold bottom is enough
To lift me up.
I had to swing out over an edge,
Had to test my own limits
To make my own rules
And then learn to follow them.
Had to spill my jewels out on the floor
And chase them, shining, down a well
Had to learn a tough lesson for myself
That what I deserve isn't penance but
Happiness, wonder and grace.
That I need only forgive myself and "all is mended"
That whether it's seven-out, or winner-twelve
I need only live to roll another day to win.

Light.

Did he mention me?
Did he tell you how we're one and the same?
How our grieving arms and heavy eyes changed their places
Took us far and wide together and apart?
Did he tell you that it's all a front, how we figured it all out-
How to stay awake, alert for the next big game
How to keep our wits about us, when everyone else is doe-eyed in the lights,
Yeah we had it all arranged just so, and then the little edges started blurring
The pieces fit all too well together.
We threw our heads high and scoffed, but
A sense of "found", of belonging and of understanding undermined our undertakings.
"You make me doubt myself," he said. "...more than you do..."
If that's the truth of it, then it's so only for my conscious doing.
Only my shepherd moon keeping my heart's hounds at bay.
We live along a pendulum- making our way to and fro-
And, did he also tell you, we hold a secret?
A candle lit in the darkness, left to guide us home.

Living.

I have climbed 20 feet in the air to hang spiderwebs.
I raised my fists in the air to a crowd of hundreds. They smiled.
Magic glitter and fairy-dust that flew me around over tree leaves, sacred paintings and river-velvet stones.
I turned and danced on shimmering heads and was lifted up with fireflies caught in my hair.
I spun and wept upside-down, cradled in dreams and soft white arms that carried me into the heart of God.
When I peeked through my clouds, they were still there, smiling.

Chased a stray around on a ladder for a while, and when he followed me home,
I bandaged his wounded heart, gently washed his feet and helped restore his trust in family, love and community.
I gathered my lovely ones around me, and we traipsed across the playground as we do.
Splashed into the pool at midnight, and giggled all together.

I sat with the cool wind and the bright stars there at the water
Asked them for forgiveness, for patience.
Spilled my regret and sorrow out into my hands and drew my fingers through their sharpness.
I did something quite wrong.
Almost necessary, but wrong.
I've done that a lot, lately, and the disappointment weighs down my little shoes.
I wrung my hands at the moon there on that bridge over the river
And she simply stared back at me, slowly shaking her head.

I held a tiny heart in my hands, waiting and waiting for it to stop.
I sang, I prayed and cried a little. And waited longer.
I couldn't leave, for those two hours, each moment ticking slower.
I wonder if I hang on too tightly, if I assign too much importance
To not leaving them alone.
To fussing over these few strange moments between birth and death.
My heart breaks a little, and I hate this place more every time I sit in that room
Rocking little ones to their last sleep.
Singing their only lullabyes
Giving all the love and caring I have because he deserves it.
Because for that moment, I am his only mother.
My shoes are heavy with this grief, too.

But we keep going, we have to.
Dust to dust, settling on my wounds for a moment slows their bleeding.
I can breathe for a moment, and put another foot in front of this one.
And put another sunrise behind me.
Ashes to ashes, "there's nothing left to burn, so I set myself on fire"
Always riding the ragged edge of disaster, failure, temptation, and destruction.

I'll admit, sometimes I look for something to destroy.
And often, I find myself simply staring into the mirror.

Bounce.

Took little more than a tiny yellow star
Starry-eyed surprise.
Took a little more than I planned to, needed to chill out anyway
Frustration with the alterations
Let me examine your eyes before I let you make that statement
Caught in your butterfly net
A splash in the river, a glimmer of recognition
I missed you while you were gone.
Trying hard not to start something cause I like it too much to
Be anything in-between
I can be the queen of sass, all flirty character
To fill the space between my insecurities
But call me out into the open,
Just as flawed and heartsick as the next girl
And I'm putty in these paws.
Got high, so high.
There's kind of a bond you form with someone through precarious predicaments.
Whatever happens, happens.
I'm glad for the things that did and didn't happen with you.

The show must go on.

"Inside my heart is breaking
My makeup may be flaking
But my smile still stays on...
The show must go on...
I'll top the bill,
I'll earn the kill,
I have to find the will to carry
On with the show."

Weight.

I just keep driving.
Keep hoping to see the objects in my rearview get smaller than they appear.
Keep checking back and promoting forward
Some work in my hands,
Some earth moving beneath my feet.
I turn wide, sweeping empty corners
Following bridges to nowhere
And endless tunnels that just
Stay dark.

Truth is, I'm alone and afraid.
The shell you left behind yawns its cavern mouth
And I scrape to fill it with anything.
You were right, you were right all along about so many things.
My vain bravado brays its jester laugh
And I go digging again, just to spite the first rule of holes.
Maybe I'll find the 7 pounds I've lost.
Maybe I'll find the shining jewels of peace that I never had in the first place.
Maybe I'll finally find the piece of me that fits this space so I can be whole.

Pour me another, gasoline and whiskey
I drink to hope, to loneliness, to the road behind me.
To feeding the fire that will either burn my soul or consume my furious heart.
I figure either way, I'll be warmer.
Either way, I'll be one day further away.

Rising tide.

"Shove another dragon down a hole."
Trying not to slip in the mud under my feet
Missing, no, craving soft sighs and warm comfort
I didn't know what an opiate it was, and how
Wracking the sweats and shivers of withdrawal would be.
Two-step sideways to find my own ground
I will find it in myself
Cut strings, cut loose, cut down and out.
This is my chance, my day to see a light of my own.
To find somewhere besides the mirror-screen of someone else's eyes.
It's a murky hope, but I am steeled and ready,
A "lion-hearted girl" today.
I'll find my way up through the water and the weeds,
A way, if only to slow my drowning.

Gotta go.

Going home to sleep alone.

I'm really ready to take this next step.

To get more used to the sound of my own voice between my ears.

To find a way to walk without sticks.

Shake off and breathe in

I can't show my work, I don't have to.

I just need to go it alone.

I just have to not be a "we".

Sun rises through the window, and I'm headed home.

Clothespin

"can she see through the bars of his plight,

and ache for him, too..."

Won't

Can't, anymore.
A need to be heard, to get it out,
Just to let it go somewhere.
Won't ever get to.
To hold you like that, again.

Won't share those precious moments that
Were so wonderful.

All the perfect rays of light that kept us going
For so long.
The ways you find to

Hurt eachother, the stones you throw without even trying.

I wanted to touch you again.

To hold your hand and be ok.

I'll take a little wooden clip, for now.

A hard reminder again of just what damage I have done.

And at the same time, a tiny beam of hope

That someday it might be repaired.

A clothespin

An offering, an olive branch perhaps?

Closed spin around in my muddy pit.

I'll hold my head up higher

Be more proud of myself.

And someday it just might.

Venizia! Day 4

Day 4 was amazing. Venice! An island and a culture and a whole world! It's kind of a caricature. A Disneyland of Italy. The 4-hour train ride dropped us at the spectacular station that opened onto a grand staircase that overlooks the Grand Canal. Lovely! And then we waited in line. And waited in line. And waited in line some more for boat tickets, and the boat and this or that. I kind of wanted to wander, to get lost and find myself there in the the winding, angled streets, but I didn't and that's just fine. I saw square orange shutters, grapes over a trellis, and the gorgeous colors of silk scarves waving in the ocean breeze. I didn't actually get to any more of Venice than I could see from the train station or a boat, but wandering through shop after shop full of hunks of glass in every size, shape, and configuration you can imagine was enough. We took the boat through the grand canal and got off at the first stop in Murano- the glass factory island. After the first 3 shops, little was unique- like every other tourist trap in the world. But to see globes of red and orange evoke a frozen sunset or a Picasso masterpiece was wonderful. Please note that I am not complaining, but comparing, and given a chance to examine my jaded reflex thoughts: choosing wonder, amazement and whimsy instead.
After cruising miles of canals around Murano, we found the boat again and started our long journey home. We were delighted to find that the stop we had chosen was only the first, and were treated to a lovely tour of Murano island for the next 5 stops. All the canals, the quaint shuttered apartments, the lovely little patio gardens (everyone grows food here!)... Seeing the different levels where the water rises and falls - the island is sinking!
As our crowded boat ride came to an end, I waited for everyone to get out of the way so we could get back on dry land (on a side note, I still get a little unsettled at going on boats, hoping that I can get off when everyone else does- see my complaints about Mal de Debarquement Syndrome...), and when I realized that the people on this side of the boat weren't getting off, I turned and walked quickly around to follow the crowd off. When we got to the sidewalk, we all patted ourselves and counted heads and realized...
My mother was gone.
Gone? No, she didn't just get off ahead of us... She isn't reading her map around this corner... No, she isn't shopping across the street here... She still isn't reading here map there. No, she isn't on the other end of the dock here.
Are you my mother?
Ok, what are the possibilities here?
A. She got off ahead or behind us and we just haven't seen her yet.
B. She didn't see us get off for some reason and is still on the boat.
C. Italian thugs grabbed her on her way off and are dragging her off to do something untoward with her.
D. She found some Italian hottie, fell in love at first sight and took off with him.
E. She slipped and fell off the other side of the boat.
These being my possibilities, or all that any of us could come up with at the moment, what are our choices for outcomes?
A. We just have to turn around and check around the corner 3 or 4 more times and she will magically appear.
B. She will get off at the next stop or wait until the boat turns around to come back and find her way back to us.
C. She will kick and bite and scratch and fight her way loose and find her way back with an incredible story.
D. She will fail to do so, and we will never see her again...
Lets pause. It is only at this point in my thought process that I begin to worry about my mom. She is an incredibly strong, resourceful, and intelligent woman (where do y'all think I get it from- I'm only half my father's daughter...) and I just kept thinking "She found me in Thailand, she can find her way back here."- if the woman can survive two husbands, a hellion teenager like me, nursing school, and southeast Asia, she can figure this one out. She *my* momma.
E. We will never see her again, but we will get occasional postcards from Peru and Antarctica, but she will be terribly happy.
F. She is on her way to a quick watery grave.

I quickly decided that A or B were the most likely outcomes, and then just put energy into making us easy to find. I figured I'd think about the others if they became even remotely possible at any point.

Ten minutes later, Shannon ran up "I found your mom!" and we were happily reunited. My poor cousin, who was convinced that my mom had been abducted, cried for a minute and then we all left in search of wine. Our adventure for the day over, we enjoyed a lovely dinner next to the canal, laughing over plates of amazing food and innuendo about the waitstaff.

She had indeed accidentally stayed on the boat, but got off at the next stop and ran back to where she had last seen us, holding her funny black and white bag over her head the whole way so that we could find her, too.

Are you my mother?

Italy -Day 3

We make coffee here one cup of espresso at a time. We dilute it with hot water and sugar and milk from a box that says "Latte!" and we enjoy it for hours with cigarettes and good company on our small balcony that overlooks the valley.
We laugh constantly.
Yesterday was an adventure in getting more food. We had eaten up most of our expensive italian cartoon groceries and were left with one package of dry pasta, two pears, a diet coke, some Swiss chard and only 2 bottles of wine (!). There's a joke there about inviting a reality cooking show chef next time, but I'm not sure what it is...
Also, the entire country has been closed for Easter. Only the bars are open.
So, we made our way into Montevarchi, which is the next town along the train, as we had heard about a farmer's market there. 5 of us traipsed through the cobbled streets and alleys to find the food market closed, but we came across a few card-table vendors selling ragged antiques- costume jewelry, vinyl records, vintage clothing and the like. We loved sifting through old Italian baubles. The group quickly realized that I have learned enough Italian/ understand enough Spanish to be able to sort of catch every fifth word and get an idea of what is being said to be able to ask directions and haggle over prices. They love this. The Italians were generally as amused by us are we were by them, and we all had fun buying trinkets.
Italians stare at my hair everywhere we go. We all stare back and giggle.
We giggle at everything.
We didn't find food, but we did find a little restaurant on the corner by the train station that had a bottle of wine for us. We told stories, laughed more, and raised our glasses to toast the small vial of my grandmother's ashes that my mom had brought with her (she always does). I love this.
I am so so thankful that I get to continue along and have incredible experiences like this. That the universe sees that I am fit to live and love and laugh one more day.
I am blessed.
We ate a feast, last night, somehow concocted from our bare cupboards, and are off today to Venice! More laughing!

Italy -Day 2

"Seven people with me!" bellowed the villa owner, Fabio.
Seriously, people are actually named 'Fabio'? This isn't something someone just made up? Some of our group were thoroughly enjoying their wine, and less interested in the impromptu tour, so they stayed behind while 5 of us grabbed our cameras and hopped into his van. Also: seriously? The local guy offers a TOUR OF TUSCANY and you aren't beside yourself with excitement? I don't understand these people. Chance. Of. A. Lifetime.
Whatever. Camera in hand, my mom and I grinning and pinching each other in the back seat, Fabio drove us through the winding roads from Bucine to Cennina to Montevarchi. He played the perfect guide, telling the story of that bridge that was built by the Romans before Jesus (!), and this village that was rebuilt after World War 1 by foreign exchange students in a clever scheme by the great-grandfather of the potter who lives there still. He pointed out the castle over on the hill that was lost in a poker game. He told us about the two sisters who own adjacent vineyards but don't get along - on either side of the road lie two fields of grapes: one with perfectly manicured vines, and the other growing wild because the one who has the machine that processes the grapes won't lend it to the other one. He waved and called out to friends. Hours later, we arrived back at the villa armed with hundreds of pictures to share with those who had stayed behind. Tonight, Fabio is cooking Easter dinner for 20-some of his family. We aren't invited (we're cooking our own), but we feel a little like his family all the same.
Molto bene!
I'm off to drink more of this amazing wine that our host gave us- made in the vineyard across the street, eat some more tomatoes and vinegar, and watch the sun set over green hills. 'Till tomorrow!

Italy -Day 1 memories

3 planes brought us to Rome. We wandered to the train station, where it occurred to me my friend had been stabbed last year. This actually doesn't say as much about the sketchiness of the area as it does the mouthiness of my friend, but still, the thought crossed my mind... We had 3 hours to kill, so we left luggage and more exhausted travel companions in search of Italian Beer. We found it easily enough, and made our way giddily back through the tunnels of the train station to the platform where our friends waited. In classic American style, we proceeded to enjoy our tasty adult beverages with gusto and bravado, there in the open platform. The station workers wandered by, chattering to each other in Italian - I'm not sure whether they were rolling their eyes at our brazenness, or eyeing my multicolored hair (it's Easter! My pink-and-purple coiff isn't rebellious, it's festive...) but either way, they made several purposeful orbits around our haggard crew and went on their way without engaging us.
We kept drinking.

Once on the train, we disembarked again in Arezzo, charged with buying a couple of days worth of groceries for the rest of the group. With only 45 minutes to do so, we raced across the square to the supermercado! I adore going grocery shopping in foreign countries- the different arrangements, sizes, groupings and packaging of familiar goods fascinates me. Here, you can only buy tomatoes in shrink-wrapped packages of 6. The myriad varieties of prosciutto are overwhelming, and the pasta..... Oh, the pasta! However, there were only three varieties of cereal. There's a cartoonish, dreamlike quality about foreign supermarkets. Thankfully the money is a little cartoonish as well, so I have no idea what it all cost.

After racing back across to the train station, we shuffled across 4 train platforms and hauled everyone's 50lb bags up the narrow stairs onto the train, we settled into a few seats and waited for the train to depart.
And waited...
And waited.
And a lovely Italian woman leaned over to us and said in a nice accent: "You do know that this train doesn't go to Bucine, don't you?" We all did a double-take of eachother as our brains slowly but collectively registered the sign outside this train that said "7:20" and then the sign outside the next train that said "7:05" and then our watches that said "7:03"... and bolted for the door. We scrambled to unload all of our exhausted bodies, 50lb bags and copious amounts of expensive Italian cartoon groceries and re-load all of the above onto the next train over. We flopped into new seats just as the train doors closed.

And so here I am: sitting in the foyer of an 18th century, 5-story 'villa' (mansion by any american standards). These three tall doors open into a cool Tuscan breeze heavy with old grapes, crumbling brick, fresh bread and laughter. I sit on this couch, thinking: it really, truly doesn't get any better than this.

Italy - Day 1

Italia.
Cigarette-smoking trains huff in their station slots
Drying clothes, trousers and dresses wave at us from their perches on lanai railings
I don't know the Italian word for lanai
Or any other words, for that matter
But I know that this crying child breathes tears in the same language
As every other child on earth.
That this bathroom, with it's frosted-glass, one euro entrance,
Is out of toilet paper, too.
Just like the ones in Seattle and Chicago.

Buildings hoary with TV antennae
And the praying mantis legs of power lines above us
We drift through an insect world, all squeaks and rumbles
Chewing at something, anything, everything.

I ate a cheese and bread breakfast over tulip fields in the Netherlands
And even now, gliding down a steel rail through Rome,
Six colors of spray paint on a tagged wall through a window in my left,
And centuries-old ruin of brick and moss on my right,
Even now, my world,
It grow smaller
And brighter
And closer to home.

What dreams.

I raced the moon further than I intended to go.
We both ran as fast as we could
Toward the horizon
Dodging clouds and rocks
Rivers and lakes and waterfalls of promise
A wink and a challenge and we were off
I knew she would win, but I ran just the same.
Out farther than I thought I could.
And when I stopped, and looked back
I suddenly couldn't see where I had come from.
All the water and stone I had passed was gone
In its place, a wide desert.
And so I sat there, and let the moon fly by me.
Until the sun came up, and swallowed us all in its light.

Nightshift hangover.

Fix my clumsy gate so I can close it.

Want to go home, but don't know which way to turn.

Wonder if you'll read this.

I drove by, just to torture myself.

Squinting into the too-bright morning

Dying shadows of a too-dark night

Left that piece of chewed-up heart on the doorstep again

To be eaten again by the eagles and worms.

Night after night it grows in between the cracks again

And I leave it out to wither

Day after day after.

Squint into the too-bright morning

Breathe in her dewy flesh

I wander tired circles around a stirring city

All beeping and red lights.

I flutter and stumble to my little roost.

The sidewalk all but pushes me through the door

To be done with my whinging.

Labor.

A Bangladeshi woman sighs a stone into her lap
Wave after wave of fear breaking across her brow.
Her gatekeeper husband
Stands at arms before her
Carefully worded cage.
She doesn't make eye contact
But she doesn't need to.
Her rigid body howls all the words she could ever use to say
"I hurt." "I fear."
Words blind to culture or language or custom.
We fold her in our soothing whispers
Rock her with gentle hurried whisking about.
"We know."
The clock ticks it's disdain and doesn't miss a step.
Our hands fly to dab compassion at her wet cheeks
Sopping up her tears before they drown us all.

Swept up.

Eyes wild, drawn sky-fire bright in the wilderness between

You and me.

Tick-tock to-and-fro

In this moment there's a quickstep left

I watch your pupils dance here and there

I'm swept up in the motion.

A student of sweet Desire.

It's a vast desert, here.

Lit with the last tendril vines of dreaming sleep.

Held captive in your gaze, there's a whole journey

A sun and moon and yawning horizon on the water

Children skip, then grow old and weary

Flowers explode in a whirling field of green and shimmering summer gold.

A whole age passes through my view before

I finally take a breath,

A sidle slide right back into this room, this restaurant

This reality of you and I and dinner.

Forget-Me-Not

Your orange-squeeze
Smash-grin faces shine at me from a box
And I smell sherbet, mint-chip and
Sticky ice-cream summers.
Chewy candy springtime
Hats on your bouncing little heads.
I feel a pang of concern for the icy night tonight.
But I walk on past, thankful for this moment
This memory.

Full circle.

Ocean salt hangs icicles in my hair

My coat on the needled rack

And my heart on hold.

I spent a day and night rolling in circles

Slept through the dawn and into afternoon

I shivered and shook in my isolation

Self-imposed exile to my sheets.

I hover over a little kitchen garden I've made.

Wring my hands and pick my clothes

Chatter my teeth waiting for a sign of life.

For some divine assurance that it's not my fault.

That it was simply circumstance,

That brought my twisted proxies to their end.

That now that I'm happier, more free

I'll be able to grow pansies again.

Overhang.

Hit with a sudden loneliness
As I'm finally not surrounded
For the first time in a week
This hangover, it feels like heartbreak
Like a deep hollow lined with sharp things
I must keep from slipping on the edges
Back against a wall
Hanging from a ledge
But proud to stand here,
All 8 clubs in the air
Happy to be overwhelmed and not have to
Feel guilty about it
This is who I am
This is the way I like to live my life.
Take me or leave me,
But in this moment maybe give me
I'll take anything you've got.

Every wednesday.

Wish you were here.

Sandy summer shoes,

A lesson in each step.

That time we built a car,

A house,

A boat.

That space between the lines that always read

"I love you"

Wish I could remember

Every word ever said

Every laugh and joke and quiet moment

Listening to the radio in the car.

Clock ticks louder every day in the silence between phone calls.

And I feel a tug in my chest.

Two feet.

And am I ever worthy enough to ever forgive

Myself, and you and him and

Can I ever be enough and will you ever be there again

For me.

Live and love and learn from your mistakes, girl.

This the only life I've got ahold of.

Eve.

Ask me.

Ask and I'll tell it again

Where I go, where I escape to

Where, so far away from here, from you and me and

Ocean waves of salty regret.

Pendulum swings two and four with a force

Of God or Nature.

Never felt so holy, there.

Or ever so much a sinner.

I'm sorry I...

I wish that I...

If only I...

I have only now

"Only this, only tonight"

To make things right here.

Only love,

If only.

Giving in and giving up to a poisonous temptation

Eve's apple never tasted to sweet.

Lifting up, but pushing down with every stinking breath.

Echo.

Go ahead. Leave me again.

Run ahead, leave me burning in my head.

Again.

Want to take a walk?

How about wanting to run, "gotta hide, gotta go.

And it's beginning to, and it's beginning to..."

Left to my own devices and vices, left to yours what would you do, princess?

What would you do, darling girl, with the whole world on your platter in front of you?

Would you give it all up?

Eat it whole?

Would you sing its praise and love to the skies and then

Who would listen?

Who would sing back?

Of course you're left with only an echo to breathe back in:

Take care of yourself

Take care of yourself

Take care of yourself.

NaPoWriMo

Participating in NaPoWriMo, modeled after NaNoWriMo - 30 poems in 30 days.

Not sure that what I write could be construed as poetry, but I guess it might.

That, and writing helps me see through my thoughts more clearly, so if I have some external pressure to write every day, maybe I'll be able to sort through everything a little better.

So, for better or worse, for poem or prose:

Here goes.

Wind and water.

Sleeping later than I mean to.
Talking more, reading less
Shutting down and closing up.

It's not really the fear of where I'm going,
It's the strangeness, the realization of where I've been
I'm spoiled, a selfish little brat,
Princess about to get mud on her hem.
Or find another white horse to ride on
Consequence-less, all fairytale...
The bitter weeds that choke my throat are
Better kept quiet.

You used to tell me about how the
Driving wind and wild water once drove you
Back from the brink.
Back from an edge, back into your loneliness and
Sorrow.
About how you almost lost it all
And in between the lines
Is the story of how you found strength
And a peace, of sorts: in the choice you made there.

I'm hard over
Rails in the water, sheets trim and
Leaning in to tack.
Ready about, he always said.
I never really knew what it meant, till now.

For.

For every time I've cried
Every time i have wanted to lay down on the floor
In the kitchen
The grocery store
The dirty carpet or the parking lot
For every time i have wanted to close my eyes
To close my hands over my ears and scream
To fill my head and the whole world with my own voice
To shout out my heart's fevered sorrow
Pitiful desperation
Dark and wretched in my weeping.
For every time I wanted so badly to loose this aching from my chest
With singing strings and a jeweled offering...
For every time I didn't, and instead
Just kept stirring this pot,
Kept my head held high and my hands busy
Kept them from doing me wrong.
For every time I just put another foot in front of the other.
Reached out instead.
For every time I took this opportunity to be thankful and connected and healthy and hopeful...
For everything.

Splitting things up.

Goodbye.
If it was ever a last,here now
Snowflakes disappear on wet pavement
Mix with my tears and down the drain
Down the drain, at last
A final curtain call,
Last bow in our terrible ballet.
Sign here on the dotted line
Signing our life away
Our plans, our future, all that brought us together and tore us apart
All the water under the bridge isn't ever enough to
Keep us afloat.
Keep us whole
Rent asunder,
This is how much I wanted
To leave, to walk away with nothing but the shoes on my feet
I know there's things I'll regret
But I've loved and lost and better for it all.
I am loved
And lost
And bitter for it all.
Please forgive me, darling,
For I am wrong.
Hearbroken, but I still have to walk my path alone.

Lonely road.

I'm pulled, more intent than purpose.

One tear or two or a whole box later

Altering perception, reality

Pay the price.

Take me down, piece by bleeding piece.

I know better than to believe my bitterness, or yours.

This is all temporary. We are all temporary.

Pain and pleasure and these dried flowers,

The echoes of laughter, the ghost of your hand in mine.

All eventually fade away.

Fade out, breathe out, bleed out over and over again.

This won't last.

It never does.

I know better than to believe your promises,

My feigned optimism.

Every moment, we are recovering from something.

We are, each of us, grieving something.

Letting go.

We all want to fall down and drown in our own tears.

Who am I to think my hurt is any greater than yours?

If I can just keep from burning alive in the fire that rages in my chest

And behind my eyes.

If I can keep afloat, and keep from destroying this ship

Just so that it can't sink again.

If I can hold my head up and say for once I did something right.

But for now I inch along the ground,

One pothole at a time.

I pick up little jewels along the way to wear in my martyr crown.

Sharpened facets catch my eye and dance

Until I put one foot in front of the other again

And win for one more day.

Back up

Ready.
Ready and willing
Lying in wait.
No more excuses, nothing else in the way.
I can do this now.
I can hold my head up through the fog
Watch it disappear around moss-hung corners
"If I could be who you wanted, all the time."
Pangs of fear, anxiety, regret fill the rattling space between my ears
Need to consult my usual oracles,
Hear the real and telling things they have to say
Prophets singing steel and emptiness
Acrid laughter and heavy breathing
Twisting aching longing loneliness.
Bring it, I say.
I'm ready now.
Bring it on.

Hooks

Low humidity.

Crunch.

What am I doing here, why am I going there?

One quick reminder, brings all my walls down.

Humpty-Dumpty and I.

Just the hooks, there,

Silver and silent.

Silken.

Hang me out to dry, this time.

It's always something.

A shoe, a photograph, some change on the windowsill.

And I'm all gone again.

Little.

Deliver me.
Through light and into darkness.
By gentle hands this terrible work done.
By swelling hearts' trembling hope.
Deliver us.
Through laughing little bells
Through fleece and fluffy cotton
Through the comfort and the fear.
Fast-forward to the next one.
Deliver me.
Give me your heavy arms to hold.
By gentle weeping hearts
By tired hands pressed into prayer
By your story's sorrow told.

And here we find you broken at the last, but this labor's love's not lost.

Rites of Passage

"All I can do is keep breathing"

All I can do is keep moving.

Forward, sideways, up or down

It doesn't matter which way or where

Just keeping going is better than

Nowhere.

We sit, three of us creating our own existence

Dreaming ourselves through life

Or into it.

Into life, into love, into simple movement some days

That's the definition of our best.

Maybe I'll slow down

Maybe I'll stop this, and do something totally different

Maybe I'll publish these words, look for something more than just an outlet

Street-wide and sky-wise,

I pray at my own doorstep

Pray for forgiveness, inspiration, happiness and safety.

The same things we all ask for before bed

Before death, before God and these witnesses.

I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry it turned out like this.

I never planned this, although no-one ever does.

But they all nod, knowingly.

As much as we'd like to think otherwise,

Maybe this is just another rite of passage.

Just another step that we all go through at some point or another.

"One of them gets restless and decides to leave"

You find your jacket's too tight

Your shoes too small

You somehow something just isn't quite ringing true anymore.

And you take a deep breath

You are given the choice to stay here in this place, and work it out

Or keep moving.

Worth it.

If this really is the reason,
Trading my pain for your dreams
Trading your bitter hurt for my sky-high someday.
If we suffer so much,
As long as this is why
There is some reason why
Some useful thing that comes of it.
Then it will all have been worth it.
We will all have been forgiven.
And we will each of us spread our rusted wings and fly.

Own it.

Hallelujah.

Saw you standing there, with your beer and your smirk.

"I am Jack's smirking revenge."

I am Jack's reflux pride.

I am always listening.

Walk away, too little too late

Always one answer or another

You ever wish you hadn't?

That's an interesting strategy.

Yes, believe it or not I have a strategy sometime

I have something resembling forethought.

I am Jack's heaving chest.

I saw it there in your eyes,

Felt it in your tight embrace.

heard it in your plaintive call.

Saw it in your intensity, your focus and release.

We all want exactly the same things,

It doesn't ever change much,

We never change much, you know.

Babies and serious illnesses change people, but otherwise we just don't change much.

Its only the very basic things that might or might not keep us together.

Together.

I hurt.

Apart.

Alone.

Hold still.

Comfort.

Hold still.

Hold me still.

Show me care, I hold my head up through the fog.

"I just want you to be ok."

Thank you for seeing through to what's real,

I didn't imagine you at all.

I need to go.

Gotta run, gotta hide

Breathing harsh more than ever

Straight and narrow, clouded with regret and loneliness

None of this makes any sense anymore.

I am Jack's bottled heat.

I am my blurry eyes, my reddened skin, my shining scar.

I am my accident, your pity, my selfish judgement.

Denial?

Not sure, quite, whether this bleeding glass feeds my soul

Or numbs it.

Destroyed instantly, after taking up such arms.

Flattened, with a word.

A simple word, a meaningful expression

It doesn't take much.

A stiff winter breeze with the ocean hot on its heels

takes me away with her.

Take me away, out from here from my clamoring thoughts

From my laboured breathing and dripping sweat.

Give me something sweet, something tender

To tender tomorrow's coming defeat?

I build it up, stack it high, just to see all the cards fall

Over and over again.

A slight touch of comfort

Heady rush of thick bitter oak

I'll take what I can get.

Anything but this.

Melting wings

I can see.
I can see everything I have, right in front of me.
Everything I have is right here, right here.
If I just keep looking ahead, I can see it all
If stay right here
If I don't move, I won't see the spots that are missing
Everything I need,
Everything I want.
It's all right here. Don't need to ever look anywhere else.
Don't need anyone else, it's all here.
Everything in its place, where I like it.
Nothing's missing.
No flash no stripes no caution tape
If I just stay here.
If I just don't move.
No crashing bells to fright me
No bright blinding light
Shining through my skull.
I can see it all just now, just here
Just me and this and all I hold dear.
Everything I need.
Everything.

If I never.
What, so what if I never?
Get past your whining, it's not so bad
Getting knocked down a peg or two.
Not so bad seeing how
The other half lives
My star shines a little dimmer
Still brighter than the sun anyway.

Healing, in every moment.

Small ritual, devoted only to my surface
Reaches deeply through every crack.
Finds a hole to fill and helps.
Taking pleasure in simply being,
Narrowed focus and unfolding meaning.