Saturday, September 22, 2012

The Leaves


The leaves
Fall and that’s good
We’ve made it
Through another season
And I remain as untouched
By the human hand
As the leaf
On the tallest oak tree
I lived through another summer
Twisting in the wind
Being washed by the rain
And warmed by the rays
Of the sun
And it was beautiful
As the moon
Turned his smile down at me
In the middle of the coolest night
But today that leaf
Glides and tumbles to
The forest floor
And we have so much in common
But no touch


Monday, September 17, 2012

Identify the Lie


I’ve never seen relationships, of any kind, as positive. I’ve enjoyed them, but there’s been so much struggle with myself. In university we were playing an association game and we were asked how we feel about a white room. I thought death. It was supposed to symbolize marriage. How scientific this is I don’t know, but I got the point real quick, so did the cute boy standing beside me.

In a writing exercise I was working on yesterday it said to identify the lie in the character, the character was based on me. And her lie was that a relationship of any kind would be a trap. Trapped by the day, by the needs and wants of the other person; I’ve always wanted to go at anytime and stay at anytime. Do whatever I want or nothing whenever the feeling strikes. Hmm also, I always walk by houses and think"traps."

A friend is helping me get back into shape. In only a few days I see great success and promise. I have renewed faith in myself. In this little arrangement walk time is a certain time everyday and we’re committed to that time. There’s no “I don’t feel like it right now, I’ll go when I feel like it.” She promised to be there in one way or another through the whole adventure. Not a lot of people make that promise to me. And I thought, and it’s an idea I’ve played with in the past, that it’s time to say it’s ok to need help, and get help from friends. It’s not a trap.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Dream-Work

Each night
I fall
I tumble
I hold my breath
Into exhaustion
I go into a sleep
 
And sleep is a whirlpool
A pulling river
It takes me to the past
I slide down and down
Come face to face
With the old catering company
The museum
The hotel
The dreams tell me
I have to go back

There
I fight it                                                                                
I scream
“I can’t go back”

With darkened eyes
 I apologized
To friends I lost
The job I had to leave
Oh, how I left them
Unable to cope

 The trigger
That brings on
The tapping catering shoes
The dancing boss
The food and the ghosts
 
Tonight means
I dive below the pull
The rushing waters
To search along
The river’s bed
Find a nugget
A trinket of memory
Put things in order
 
I go to fight
To stand tall
To face the fear
The weakness
The magic mirror
Who I really am
On the inside
Of a dream

 


Friday, September 7, 2012

The Cabin


For a long time there has been a cabin in the woods. It sits on the old lane behind our house. I remember when people used to stay in it. That is to say I remember when it wasn’t broken, when it had all its windows and doors. When the owner died he left it to his son. Who had parties and neglected it, he was too young to understand the treasure he had. Yesterday, I was talking to the young man’s wife of two months and asked if she was down my road the other day. Yes she said we’re trying to fix up the cabin.

Maybe that means that step by step and day by day even though on the outside is seems like the cabin is so broken down that it will never be fixed again, that people have forgotten about it and that it appears that it can’t do what it’s supposed to do; house people, keep people safe, give them a haven. That someone sees the little heart that it has and it gets built back up. It lives again. It does what it's been built to do.

Monday, September 3, 2012

Walking on the Moon


The evolution of me begans taking up a new direction.
I stepped on the rocket ship and left the appointments that come with living in town.
The coffee the energy shakes.
On the moon there are great salads fresh from the garden.
It makes your body feel alive.
The family in the kitchen, talked about ghosts, intuition, energy and growing older and other such stuff.
Folktales turn into raisins, because it’s a secret joke.
Our family has a new language all our own.
We are adults and we were kids; talking about our imagination, our reality.
36 years of history on the moon.
We proceeded to find flowers and caterpillars and bumblebees and take their pictures.
On the moon there are great sunsets.
Feeling your bare feet in the sand and watching the sky turn pink.
There is food for all diets, Duncan style, on the moon, and we all get along for a little while.
Tears of the potential of life, what we want, what is given.
Opening up the world the clouds turn pink and lead to the future, the winding path.
Just a family walking on the moon.