his notes throw my brain
back to winter, cold and ice
he’s so good at that
everything freezing, everything leaving
rushing past me
going to places — I want to go
his keys spark my sleepy memories
my eyes explode with
those open fields and dying trees
my heart melts with burnt clouds
and those magical fading leaves
this beauty gots to even out the ugly
the motion gots to keep you steady
yet every day is just the same
left is right, this way is that way
the sun is square, the sky is brown
your sad is mad, your up is down
the beauty gots to even out this ugly
this hope gots to get you ready
moon graced the tops of the palms, bade my soul
to separate, to congregate with the
others – the ones in that tranquil state but
distant ungodly fury – my fears, the
sadness spinning out of control caused me
to pause, reflecting that my dull spirit
was longing to follow the ones at peace.
their fingers mingling, reaching for my own.
realize mine are cold and trembling far from
and missing home, demanded my spirit
to stay. confused, it turned around – followed
the birds that just took flight under the light
of the new year’s moon, cause even the birds
know when danger is imminent, flapping
up with wings that covered their heads. catch a
glimpse of their pink bones through veils of strength. I
follow those pleas for mercy, their clues, and
make my way back, my bleary ghost and all.
kneeling, praying
think it’s raining
but
it’s only my tears
hitting the hardwood
falling heavier than
I thought they could
they’ve taken on a
life of their own
my tear drops crying back to me
wanting to bring me home
my tear drops know that
I can’t even speak
can’t even pray
but they know
He knows my thoughts
I don’t have anything
new to say
kneeling, praying
and
all the while
thinking it’s raining
This week has been a rough one. I don’t even have a quasi figurative way of expressing myself right now. The whole situation just sucks! I wish a miracle would happen to take away my son’s intense aggression! I read a passage out of the Bible this morning and it explained my entire sad situation. This Psalm has been described as the saddest passage in the entire book. Do you agree?
Lord, you are the God who saves me;
day and night I cry out to you.
2 May my prayer come before you;
turn your ear to my cry.3 I am overwhelmed with troubles
and my life draws near to death.
4 I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
I am like one without strength.
5 I am set apart with the dead,
like the slain who lie in the grave,
whom you remember no more,
who are cut off from your care.6 You have put me in the lowest pit,
in the darkest depths.
7 Your wrath lies heavily on me;
you have overwhelmed me with all your waves.[d]
8 You have taken from me my closest friends
and have made me repulsive to them.
I am confined and cannot escape;
9 my eyes are dim with grief.I call to you, Lord, every day;
I spread out my hands to you.
10 Do you show your wonders to the dead?
Do their spirits rise up and praise you?
11 Is your love declared in the grave,
your faithfulness in Destruction[e]?
12 Are your wonders known in the place of darkness,
or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?13 But I cry to you for help, Lord;
in the morning my prayer comes before you.
14 Why, Lord, do you reject me
and hide your face from me?15 From my youth I have suffered and been close to death;
I have borne your terrors and am in despair.
16 Your wrath has swept over me;
your terrors have destroyed me.
17 All day long they surround me like a flood;
they have completely engulfed me.
18 You have taken from me friend and neighbor—
darkness is my closest friend.Psalm 88
I can’t even enjoy the rain anymore.
I’m always pacing, reaching for the door.
I can’t even savor my meals anymore.
I’m always eating while standing;
hurriedly chewing and choking.
I can’t even stand my showers anymore.
That water hurts my burgundy
striped shoulders.
I can’t even stand to stand anymore.
The gorilla on my back just keeps
getting older.
I can’t even love my words anymore.
They just sit here pretty like,
as a constant reminder that
I just can’t anymore.
that sadness always hits us like a brick
hear its calls louder when there are fewer
distractions to keep our dull minds at bay
sadness that wears on us like blankets
heavy, smelly, making us suffer and smolder
stifling, because it’s always summer here
you say you want to feel it though
swim in it, surrender to it
hear its taunts that test you
so you’ll grow, you always do
you’ll defeat it, and like its own season
it’ll pass
dear crestfallen one,
I’m proud of you, I’m grateful for you
as I try to feel hope instead of this weight of despair
that sadness just seems to hit us so hard
each and every time
as I count down the seconds that I can call you mine
Please forgive my wandering mind, but I want to go to Australia. Forget about the long flight, and watch the kangaroos with their dangling arms cross the street. I want to smile at the way they say my name, Sheila. Have an old Aussie take my scarred hand and whisper, “How ya goin’ luv?” Nod back. If you only knew.
I want to go to a place where I can drink wine at lunch guilt-free. Tour a vineyard near the coast and dream about buying an old villa. Befriend the locals and whip up a mean spaghetti alla carbonara. Watch my prosecco sparkle in its glass, and toast to the year I never had. Listen to them laugh and think. Isn’t this nice.
Go to a place where I bow to show respect, and I’m admired for being tall. Drink loads of green tea and feel uber-relaxed because of all that L-theanine. Touch the translucent screen with my fingertips, close the shoji. Slip in the futon and sleep like never before. Learn how to play the shakuhachi and delete the Deuter station on my Pandora. I don’t need your music anymore. Be so relaxed that I’ll defy gravity, so I’ll float and swim in the clouds. And I’ll feel sorry that you can’t join me.
Go to a hidden forest and have the moss stain my vision green for days on end. Hum the song “The Misty Mountains Cold” as I walk around for hours in sacred silence. Go for a month-long stay in Bora Bora. Be greeted with fresh pineapple, and then graciously tell them that I’m allergic to pineapple. But I’ll dream of eating pineapples when I sleep over the water and grow delirious with their sweetness. The glass sea will be so breathtaking that I’ll forget how to cry.
Go to a red house with a pink door bathed in sunlight. Walk inside, leave the door open, and not faint when I marvel at its beauty. Flowers will adorn the counter and tabletops. Heavenly bulbous flowers that would make the Queen of Hearts jealous, or at the very least, she’d want to know my secret for growing such massive flowers. I wouldn’t tell her though. She’d have a tantrum, but I would only laugh. She wouldn’t; she couldn’t ever phase me.
I want to walk through the house, and run my fingers along the patched gossamer blue walls. I’ve missed you. Smell the lavender you sprayed a moment ago. Hear the cardinal that always pecks at the door. Poor thing, he’s confused, because the house is red. Notice how much the carpet of pink around the pool has grown. Wonder how the flowers fell so gracefully in the laps of the worn ballerina statues, and I’ll admire their patience.
Please forgive my wandering mind; I just want to be hopeful. It’ll be different this time. I close the pink door and pray.
