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.