Saturday, June 27, 2015

The Drops


 
 
 
I wrote during that hurricane
Wind transforming the rain
beyond the bedroom curtain
That hurricane that ripped
The foundation
that tree that collapsed
on the house roof

And I said I'm going
To see that storm
face to face
step
into the eye of the hurricane
collect it's raindrops
for my album
Beside the pictures
of us


Ohh I love the storms
that pull us to our knees
and show us our souls
in the rusty chrome
Show me my soul
my reflection
Show me that soul
in my collection
of rain drops
from the hurricane


Friday, June 26, 2015

Baby


The baby sat in my living room. Played like a child, hunted and pecked the notes, but each note sang with so much passion. So much emotion learning to find in my heart. I caught the last stringed high note, three days ago, hit all the notes. I was so strong, I held that song in my hands, in my throat like power, I would be back soon.
 
For two days I rested, exhausted in body and mind. It was the kind of awkward silence felt by a stranger before the curtain rises; planning my own recording session. When I sing and sing and then fall in tiredness.

I fall descending into the ocean, like the plucking of the cello, like leaves on a breeze. Falling among the trees. Some of the strings of the baby grand have all been cut by garden shears and wire cutters. Now I walk a different path, fly me above all I've chosen. Show the future to me. Show me where this is leading
 
The baby sitting in the living room, a red stemmed glass. In it I caught sight of my face, I lean into the ripples of sugar. Glass after glass, I know all the pain can be fixed, I just need a few new strings. I whisper “I couldn't have done it without you.”
 
Here I am, a million miles a way; Me the only one listening, the only one speaking is me, writing on my bed. My bare feet, free, bend at the knees and sway in the air. The silent baby grand leads to tunes on the laptop. My finger tips choose the letters I need to bring my voice back to life.

I catch my voice. Catch it while it runs in the other direction. It's relearning the notes, from childhood, from my early 20's. It hearing old patterns and starting new ones.

The baby grand sitting in the living, the glasses of wine. Now I make decisions. By myself, that I regularly wouldn't be able to make, by myself. I do it, by writing. By dreaming, By myself.

For two weeks I look for the monster that cut my strings, that created the silence, that took me to the dance but held my ears with his hands, and said “I couldn't have made it to the dance without you.”

I couldn't have done it without you but I could have done so much more.

Rise me high above the ocean, Rise me high above the trees, Take me up above the paths I've chosen.
Show my future to me. Tonight I caught one last high note, fell to the ground, and stood back up again.




Monday, June 22, 2015

(That's Me)

I was walking to work this morning, putting myself down. "Oh look the car stopped for the ugly fat girl." (That's me.) "Oh look the man crossed the road so he didn't have to be on the same side as the ugly fat girl." (That's me.)

And then I realized that it was very nice for that car to stop. He wasn't yelling those words out his car window. I was the one using them. And that man crossing the street, lived, or at least was visiting, that house he crossed the street to get to.

Yep those were MY voices in MY head.

Although a very confident person, I'm shattered by, and always am at war with, the negatives in my head and my heart. I think I have magic powers that I can see into someone else's mind and hear their voices telling me I'm ugly. Watching their eyes dodge me, I know what they're thinking.

(That's me.) Those are just my own troubles in my own head. Sure some of them may be real. But the only one saying those things is me.

I'm the one poisoning my own heart and soul. Why? Because I don't want the world to think, I think, I'm pretty, when I'm not. I want them to know, I know my place, but that I'm good in other ways. I want people to know, I know, my voice isn't perfect, my body's not perfect. I need me to remember this, to remember my place.

That's me.

Not anymore, I'm peeling away the layers of me, that hate me, and replacing it with love.


Sunday, June 14, 2015

My Mind Is O K

Let the sun go down now. Let the day end. Let the sun set orange and pink. I can't see it through the clouded windows in the hospital. I've lost count of how long I've been here. They took my watch away from me to put in the IV.

See my mind is ok. I can hear the people say that I should be dead, that I should have the right to choose. I can dream that in a few minutes I'll be 10 again and able to stand up and toss a ball to my loved one.

I can't even sit up without coughing. I heard a lady say earlier that it looked like my eyes had sunk into my head, I don't know. Where are all the mirrors.

My family told the Dr. I should have my own room. Privacy. He said "don't worry I'll take care of it," that was 10 am this morning. I'm sitting out in the hall.

I remember the day I was 14 and didn't think I was beautiful enough. And the day at 60 I decided I was beautiful enough for this world. I cried for all the years that passed in between.

You see my mind is ok. I can remember being the valedictorian. I remember running cross country and being the lead in the play and being a mother a grand mother. I remember falling in love and getting married.

I remember the day I couldn't get out of bed on my own. I stopped worrying about whether or not I was pretty enough.

My family told the Dr. I should have my own room. They brought me slippers and placed food in front of me. The nurses said feeding me was a waste of solid food and sighed when they took the left overs away.

Apple juice I wanted apple juice.

But I couldn't speak.

All I ask is that in my final days, final moments you treat me with dignity and sanity and know that even though I can't speak; I still have feelings.

You see my mind is ok.

 

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Love My Babes

today was a hard day.

today and last night
I cried

For the third time
I had to get eye drops
for my Izzy

It's expensive and a long drive to the vet we trust
I want her to be happy and healthy

I give her kisses at the vet so she's not scared
so she knows I'm not going to leave her there

She hid under the bed for a while
when she came home and Tini
sat under with her until they had it all talked out
or sniffed out
or whatever sisters do

This afternoon after all the hissing and spitting and hiding
she heard me curl up in bed, I was exhausted
She lay down beside me for cuddle time

"Mommy I still love you" she said
"You do what you can do for me."

I thought about people leaving her behind
and how much she trusts me
and I'm crying now so I guess I love her and I guess I am her mama
There's not a lot I would do anything for
but she just touches my heart all the days

This cat that everyone left behind

Sunday, June 7, 2015

Plain Little Girl

not my photo
"I am just a plain little girl"
Sitting on the ocean's cliffs
Miles of waves whisper to me
And say "You are just a plan little girl."

I've had so much love
Crashing inside my heart
I've washed ashore so many times
Tonight's the night; I fall in love

And he said "you are worthy of the moon
You are worthy of the stars in the sky
You are worthy of nothing less than all my love
I must go now good bye."

Under the moon a light is conceived
That light that echo's from the sun
Under the moon he answers that I
I am just a plain little girl

Sitting on the ocean shore
Watching his ship sailing away
I watch knowing love is sailing
Once more

So many people yearn for love
Manipulate it. I learned
From a master to not be scared
And just be there to love myself

And he said "you are worthy of the moon
You are worthy of the stars in the sky
You are worthy of nothing less than all my love
I must go now good bye."

Monday, June 1, 2015

The Garden

not my photo
Tiny child, but not too tiny, strong, yet confused. Tiny child, scooping up little pieces of knowledge from the bottom of the barn. This tiny bit of knowledge I found along the side of the road, and at forty I have a tiny bit of information scooped up in my hands.

Who are you? Who am I? Why are you still here? Shutting me out? Shutting me down? Why are you still here? Why do I still run to you like that little child who is so dependant on your acceptance. Why are we still here? Why haven't we fought for our lives, why do you still silence me in the night.

From the darkness on the shore, the luminaires along the tide that reminds me I can never be free. The darkness in the schools, the faces that seemed so distant? The ideas and friendship like nothing I understood. The darkness of  the city in the rain with only the red light followed by green and yellow.

Always red and yellow against the wet pavement. At forty I have the darkness part understood. The red part grows strong.

Why are you still here? When I tried so hard to run away. Why are you still here when I replaced all those years with darkness. I was only left with the times when my body begged to cry; to die
.
Enter the knight, the part, of my heart that kept fighting. The tarot card that always comes galloping out of the field, that comes out of the fire to remind me :This is where I kept fighting, for the tiny bit of light. Why I kept scooping the barn floor. This is the garden that I sow, not of crocus or tulips but with in the bed of darkness I sprout the golden seed.

With my tiny tears light is grown with the drop from my eyes. I scream from my tiny house... Why are you still here?