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Stuck
Stuck,
or so it seems
and so not me.
I have followed myself here
Not by choice as much as
by heart.
My heart
weighted
down
and stuck with a fear
that holds me fast
binds my feet
in a dark and greedy
mud.
This
swamp holds me
Tight
Wrapped like a cocoon it holds
Me to its floor
Cemented in the shadow
Of its trees.
Over
and over I look around me
Searching for something more than a
twig
To grab on to
To pull me out
Boots and all
To a shore
Where I can once again
Feel the edge
Of my heart
Solid without fear
White feather wings
Right and true.
Letting
Go
The
saffron colored leaf
Anchored by the twig that held it
Close all summer
Let loose
And fell
Ever
so gently
Into a majestic dance with the autumn
breeze
Tipping and swaying to the rhythm
Of the whispering wind
Until it landed in the brown
grass
And
I understood then
It is not always the hanging on
But sometimes
It is
The letting go.
If
My Life
If
my life was a movie
Playing in a theater
Up on the big screen
And I was sitting there
In a chair with everyone else
Watching
I would get up and leave
Setting
down the uneaten tub of buttered
popcorn
On the chair
Or the floor
It wouldn't matter
I would stand before the burst of my
life
shooting from the projector
And just walk out
Leaving
behind the
Critics' comments about how the wrinkles
in my face
Show my age
And how I used to be better
Funnier
Faster
I
would never entertain the idea of
staying
and waiting while their two-faced
jealousy
had seeped into the cushion of my
chair
making me think I was comfortable
When in fact I was not
Comfortable
I was tired
Of watching
Them not see
Or hear
me
And
before the credits rolled
And the weak applause had subsided
I would just get up and leave.
Silence
Standing
in the middle of your silence
Like a naked child exposed to a blinding
snow storm
Waiting to be rescued
My
resonant mind refuses
To engage in the obvious
And instead imagines your cacophony of
silence
Means you are knitting a solution for
us
A creative shawl to warm the tiny bones of
my soul
Or
that you hold a shiny shovel
My white knight
Unburying me, franticly moving
mountains
In order
To find the truth
And reason to our misery
And
sometimes as I tiptoe around you
With the symphony of your silence loud in
my ears
I imagine you picking me up
And carrying me off to somewhere
Warm and safe and real
But
instead
I strain within the sound of your roaring
silence
Until an unspoken sentence
A mile long
Begins
As you grasp the handle of your
Freshly packed suitcase
And leave me
Exposed
And cold
And silent.
Here
We Are
Here
we are
at a place where we let go of each other's
hand
and you begin your journey.
I've watched as you prepare
and sometimes I want to help you pack
to give you all the things I fear
I may have forgotten to give you
and then I realize
I have been helping you prepare for this
journey
all your life.
For
this journey
begins my own heart's dream
that one day
you will search for
and find
and love you.
It is all I have ever wanted for you
and while I know I will miss you
I also know
this journey is one you must take
if you are ever to really become
you.
And
somewhere it is written
in order for you to begin
you need to find me wrong.
You can do that.
Just remember this journey is one of many
circles
and each time you leave the circle you are
traveling on
you will find the next one larger than the
last
but I will always be right here,
right where I am now
so you can always find me.
And one day when you are through with your
journey
we will sit by the edges of our circles
and begin.
And
as I stand alone
beneath the shadow of your spreading
wings
I shiver a bit,
until I see you are headed for the sun
handsome and warm and ready,
excellent and fair.
The
Glowing Lesson
Christmas
party over, guests had merried out the
door
My daughter chomping peppermints
in the middle of the floor
And I was in the back room
changing gown for clean-up clothes
A scream of "Mom!" What was is it now,
oh goodness heavens knows.
This
act she has of hollering
from a good three rooms away
Was not one I would tolerate,
I would snuff it out today.
I shouted back, "Come here at once!"
My fury was ablaze
Then checked the mirror a double
sure my angry face in place.
She
stood beneath me,
eyes shied up to one who knows the
best.
I shook my finger, gave my speech,
not stopping for a rest.
I told her she must learn that
such behavior was not right,
While burning deep the lesson
I was teaching her tonight.
Her
eyes a flicker frightened
(I had really poured the fuel)
I asked what was so "pressing"
she had dared to break the rule.
Her hands were twisting back and forth
like little copper wire,
Her voice extinguished softly,
"Mom the living room's on
fire."
Little
Valentine
Tossed
together after the great storm that shook
your birth
Landing you in this room amidst the sea of
other rooms
of passengers waiting to come ashore.
Your newly born eyes wrapped well in
velvet lids
Fluttering motions of oceans from your
pristine dreams
Captured by your smallness and your sweet
beauty
Your mouth appears to be a small pink
heart
And I wait for our tomorrow, our journey
without the sea
My new little Valentine
Bloom
I
watch as
Spring awakens
Blurry-eyed and eager
As a young child
Fresh from a morning nap
Yawning,
it breaks open
Fresh with no mistakes
Each cherub cheeked blossom
Holding it's own secret promise
Of tomorrow
I
feel
the pregnant ground
Swell and push
Below my feet
A new found strength
The courage to become
And
as winter's brittle gray coat
Slowly melts away beneath
Supple little grasses
I am reminded
There is still time
For me
To bloom.
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Corner
My
baby child soul has been
Facing the corner
Of a dark room
Alone
And
afraid
Of the quiet
Hush
Her
mouth feels clamped shut
By her own hand
For fear
Of being
Once again
Unheard and overlooked
And
her hand is growing tired
Of holding back that which
Continues to scream and sing from
The hidden within
Until
she feels the soft breath
On her shoulder
And realizes
If
she turned around
There
Is someone
Standing right behind her
Waiting
Still
And ready
To listen.
Leaving
The
thought of leaving
Rests in
My mind
Like a young child asleep in a back
room
I
move around in whispers
So silent
On tiptoes
Afraid to awaken
That which sleeps
I
can hear the rustles
And stirrings
Soft reminders
That sleep is not forever
And
one day
I know
My soul
Will awaken
With a cry
That needs to be tended to.
Let
It Be Known
Let
it be known
That your clamoring
Footfalls
In my left ear
Cause my head to turn sideways
And stare
Let
it be known
your
Darkened whisper
On the back of my neck
Sucks at my strength
At the very edges of my camouflaged
soul
Let
it be known
I can feel you
Squeezing my sun out of summer
Veiling my light
And from the
Corner of my mind's eye
I can see your shadow coming
closer
Let
it be known
That instead of your sweet vanilla
I smell the burning flesh
Of tomorrow
And
as I watch you
Try and turn the page of my book
Let it be known
that I know.
Gone
She
stands on the tender edge of tomorrow
Motionless
Staring deep into the eyes of a mirror
After all these years
With a reflection that is not
hers
The
mirror has betrayed her
Taken that which was all her
And replaced it
With someone she doesn't recognize
As anyone she knows
She
stares
At the grey-blue eyes
Searching beyond the lines
That frame them
For a sign
A clue
She
hasn't a clue
Where
She has
Gone.
Once
Upon A Time
Once
upon a time
you stood in your sandbox
next to your sand castle
with a hole in your red tennis shoe
and declared
with a raised clenched fist
that you were "Queen of the
World."
Once
upon a time
you made mud pies
filled with pebble bits
and covered with dandelion frosting
and offered them for sale
to anyone
having a spare dime.
Once
upon a time
you believed you could fly
and everyone
who could hear your true soul
sing
believed
it too.
Today
You need to remember
Once Upon a Time.
Memories
of You
Somewhere
Hiding deep in
The closet of my soul
Behind forgotten things that no longer
fit
And discards waiting to be sold
At the next garage sale
Is
a shoebox
Of memories
Of you
And me
And us
I
seek it out when
the moon hides
The sun cools
And the fresh smell of summer
Is gone
I
hold each piece
Caressing each memory
As it takes me back
To a place where I can
Once again see the moon
and feel the sun
And
a fresh summer breeze
Gently flows through the window of my
soul
Singing softly of you.
The
Journey
Packing
for the journey required
thought not yet born
Memories rolled up inside pain
and lodged somewhere
deep inside a pocket of the suitcase
carried by hands too small to hold
or drag along or carry
Causing the unfolding and the sorting
of unpacking to take forever.
Poetic
Baker
Write
me a cake I can understand.
One from scratch.
Sifting out contrived flavors.
Make the layers ones I recognize;
Like lonely lemon feelings peeled
and grated fine to pieces,
or rich, sweet, bitter chocolate
drizzles
slipping from the edge,
a rhyme of berries red,
juicing still and staining through,
with marble swirls beginning
curls to splattered ends.
Garnish
high with fresh, whipped dreams.
Steep my coffee strong and deep,
clinging to my bone china cup.
Write to me in layers I can
understand,
and I will use my hands to carve my
slice,
caressing crumbs I'll soon devour every
layer,
licking clean my fingers with
remorse.
In
a Jam
How
dare my feelings solidify;
Just when I need them most.
They lay bottomed in my heart, gelled,
an unforgiving cool preserve.
I'd like to pry the lid off with my
stainless writing tool.
At them I'd jab and stab and wriggle
free
the jelly glops and goos spreading
words
upon the sliced white page waiting to
absorb.
I
think
I'd find a currant jam or kind of
marmalade
with chunks and bits and substance mixed
with
sugar-sweetened stiffness colored
rich,
but leaving seeds between my teeth.
I'd be careful not to push the spread to
the edge
and soften hardened crusts.
But these jellied jam-packed feelings
are not ready to be smeared just
yet.
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