Saturday, January 31, 2015

Lightning Climber

strings in the night
rain falls and flowers grow
like spiders on a web
she crawls up the lighting
a gymnast on her ribbons

to the snapping of the fire
against her skin
she is fire proof
and doesn't burn

There's only seconds
to reach the top
perch on a cloud
dizzy and confused
she must grab the next
to the ground

dreams and memories
through heat
through falling
through speed
she must decide when she reaches
the bottom
if she's going to do it again

Friday, January 30, 2015

Life Breathes

Life breathes. The silence breathes. I try to hold my breath through winter. I learn I need to swim through the flurries and the freezing rain.

Just five more minutes, has led to 40 years of I'll be ok. Just five more minutes and I'll be living my life, just five more minutes and I'll wake up, just five more minutes and I'll be successful. I'll have the life that I want, I won't struggle and cry at what I don't have.

I breathe through the snow for five more minutes. I write through the silence to make myself stronger and be my best friend, so I'll know my heart will never break. While my heart breaks everyday. But I do, I do love myself

Love breathes. Every five minutes we come up for air. The snow covered heart, the lungs full of freezing rain, I have survived the first months of winter. I move forward, I move on.

Life yearns in thirst. The thirsts of winter is different than that of summer. Winter bodies have a need for coffee, hot chocolate, and toddies. The thirst for water, the need to quench, is left behind.

Life cries. I yearn for a world, a magic world, where babies don't die in the womb. The woman doesn't die at the hand of their husband. The love that people have plays like a record. Sadness is a lesson not a death. People, like me, aren't afraid of five more minutes.

Life smiles. The sun melts the snow on the pavement. I don't fall on hidden ice. Day comes to light. I hear music, each sweet note, I've spent the last year learning. Each song as it should be through my lungs and out into the world. There is sound and light.

I am told I could do it, that I'm good at it; Sure I can do it... but do I want to.

Decisions and breaths lead me into the next moment and I am me. The pen and paper haunts my present. My dreams haunt places of the past and I am seen talking to old friends and playing old pianos. Peeking from behind door ways of past lives.

The eyes flicker and open. Just ten more minutes, just one more day, let me see what happens. Next, let me put plans into place, make a promise that was made 20 years ago, to myself.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

The Candle

You seem
like the kind of woman
who listens to the silence
of the burning candle

I am the kind of woman
whose heart beats
to the rhythm
of the hand held drums

There is more wisdom
on this earth that what is spoken by the
human voice more words in a smile
than on the evening news

You seem
like the kind of man
who hears the wisdom
of a held hand

Are you the type of love
that speaks in flickers
of flames
and anticipates my silence

I am the candle

Sunday, January 25, 2015

Rose and Spider

the women at the wedding
wore rose coloured dresses
the flute they danced to
played the notes of summertime

snow fell like confetti around
their rose coloured hearts
a cool drink
pink lemonade in the beating sun

then one began to weep
rose coloured tears
everything had changed
since the dance had begun

she had opened up to
a new path covered in roses
different than all the other women
she could feel it in her heart

Friday, January 23, 2015

The Clock

I was excited this week for my friends' babies; for "her" becoming a grandmother again. For the cake that I couldn't eat in the office for "her" maternity leave. But it made me realize something.

I don't want babies, I've always been too sick, but I've wanted that connection with the right man to want to have babies and heal with him to a point where babies were an option. I've always felt like if the right person came along I could get off the antidepressants and we could have a baby together. But this week. As I jumped up and down and said "I'm so excited for you" I realized that I can still fall in love with my mr right, and we can settle down in our little love nest and heal. But I'm old enough and independent enough that having children isn't an option.

And so I cried today.

Not so much because I would never have children. But because that option is gone now. I didn't have it when I was twenty because I was battling a depression. I can't have it now because I'm old. Sure I could meet someone with kids, I could adopt if I was financially more stable. But to actually give birth, isn't really an option any more.

My friend, only two years younger than I, made me smile when she said we'd have children together cause there was still time, we could be old parents together. But there will soon come a time as I slip into my forties when even that isn't an option.

I read a story once about a girl who found out she was having a baby and she cried and cried, she wanted this baby more than anything, but she cried for the life that was left behind. I don't want a baby, but I morn the life that can no longer be.

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Self Esteem

You're the one I sing with
In the winter storm
The one I dance with
When it's minus thirty three

You're the one the wind
Gathers itself around
After sneaking through
Cracks in the shingles

You're the dreams I dreamed
For a long time
Disguised in the heart
As tornados threatening to take down

Structures like houses

I never moved too far away
I never moved to Kansas
But it's minus thirty three in the winter
Here, when the wind walks in my right direction

You're the one I sing with
The one I dance with
You are me

I was inspired by George's speech at the globes. I was inspired by my courage the last few weeks. I'm inspired by the cold winter, by my dreams taking shape, at least for now. And wonder if the generation before us got guilt and our generation got depression and anxiety? Hmmm

ps not my photos

Sunday, January 4, 2015

"White Sweater"

not my photo
There is a river in this town. I hurry along the edge to get to work ontime. I hear different sounds whispering and screaming from the river. Today I hear the sound of the fast rising water; the more cold December rain we get, the more the water races to the tides.

I follow a man, for a while, on my walk. We walk beside the river. He wears a dirty white sweater and some camouflage pants. I watch him stoop down to pick up an empty packet of cigarettes, he tosses it back on the ground and shakes the cold rain from his fingers.

Sitting on the side walk, too close to the gutter, he pulled off his sneaker his bare feet soggy and wrinkled a rock dropped out of his shoe. Mr Jax, opened up the door to his clothing store and handed the man a jacket. The man shook his head and handed it back, he mouthed something about pity. He liked his off white sweater, forgetting that it will get colder, much colder when January comes.

The Christmas party was held in the hotel over looking the river. This hotel was not like the hotel I used to work in, that was old and regal; had personality. This was lacking the ghosts in the halls. My friends and I bought new dresses just for the occasion. The boys smoked packs of cigarettes and passed around baggies of weed out in the front steps.

Lilly ran around in bare feet. We were all forced to eat the same buffet, I found the dry turkey and the roasted pig gross. I didn't want what they gave me, so I tried to give it away, no body wanted it.

At 10:00 the party was nothing but loud music and screaming people trying to communicate. I was past that stage of my life. I did it when I used to work at a hotel, just to get by, so I didn't want to do it tonight.

I walk home along the river.

I wander. I wander through the night slightly drunk after a Christmas party. Logic tells me to go straight home. But I'm not in a hurry, so I stop in the twenty four hour store and pick up some crackers and out of date smoked oysters to eat in lieu of my lost dinner. The clerk looked at me and said "Buddy before you picked up the same thing." I laugh and then wander home.

I pass "White Sweater" going up to an old barn, he has a paper bag with him, like mine, and I wonder if it's full of crackers and smoked oysters. This time he had a dog with him.

That night I dreamed of cold winters and wet feet, I had forgotten to turn the heat up and the night went from plus ten to minus ten within hours. I dreamed of a roof over my head and some food other than crackers and 50 percent off smoked oysters. I woke up at 5:00 with a hang over and a need for fried eggs and cola and maybe some Tylenol.

I drink all the water I can and rearrange my calories to make up for the fried eggs I ate for breakfast. I go for a run to take care of the rest. I wonder when all this running will pay off.

That night I dream that I am climbing up hill climbing looking for love, I know I am looking for love because my body feels empty. I meet the homeless man. He passes me with a news paper in his hand and walks up to houses that have a "for rent" sign on the front.



I walk past him on the corner of the busiest street in town. It's busy but with cars, no one walks in this town and anyone who does has crossed the street to be away from him. I'm not afraid of him, he seems to be everywhere in my life right now synchronicity needs us to be together. I've been told not to give people on the street money, but this one doesn't seem he's going to sell his body for crack if he doesn't get it. His hat looks empty, I throw a toonie in the hat and the dog wags it's tail.

A man comes up behind me in a suit and tie and says, "that's a beautiful dog."

"Do you want him?" asked 'white sweater.' "I feel like I can't look after her any more, and they'd let me in the shelter without her."

He handed the leash forward and said "I need money for her though, I haven't eaten in days." The man pulled out his wallet and asked; "Do you really want to sell your dog?"

"No," said 'White Sweater", "she's the only family I have, she keeps me going, but I'm hungry and she deserves better."

The man reaches into his wallet and said "this is what I would pay for the dog; go and get you and her something to eat."

And a cab stopped and he got in and drove away.

That night they curled up outside the shelter and they kept each other warm. "White Sweater" was so cold that he didn't feel it getting warmer and warmer, until the dog started to bark and shake his sleeve. The shelter burned. A friend let him spend the night at his house but he had to be gone before the news paper arrived. The news paper said no one survived the fire.


There was a boy at the Christmas party I loved with my whole heart, my whole body told me he was my soul mate. I watched as he moved his chair around to face me, when I walked into the room the eye contact he made, the great conversations we had, and letters we wrote, all pointed to a long lasting friendship. Yet I couldn't get any time with just him he wasn't all that into me. I was in my house crying and crying about this love when...

I heard a thump under my veranda, a whimper from a dog and there was "White Sweater," under my sun porch.

I asked him "why are you here?"

He said "it was going to be a cold night."

The dog licked off the peanut butter and jam I had left on my hands from supper.

He asked me, "why are you all alone, why isn't there a friend staying with you?"

I thought about it, I had always been alone I said "I guess I was always afraid that someone would want children or a family. I just wanted to be by myself."

I asked him why he didn't have a home.

He said "I never felt right settling down, couldn't stay in one place too long, I was afraid of not having the best house, of having too much stuff to move again. I just want to be by myself."

There is a river that runs into the ocean tides. And even though there are people and hotels and street corners. All the river wants, is to just be alone.

Rusty Heart

I sat down on my couch with a bottle of water. I looked at my watch, the face is bubbled with water, I took the watch in the shower with me one too many times. Beyond the steam I can see that it is 9:00 pm and I'm tired of finding things to do.

I guess I'm too scared to reach out and ask someone if they want to keep me company and after all these years; I'm fine on my own, and I get tired so quickly on a work night. So, alone I fall asleep with a calico at my stomach and a white cat chasing my lip balm from the kitchen to the living room of my one bedroom apartment. When the white cat settles on the couch, or on the blanket, on the electric piano, over the heater, so too will I be able to sleep, undistracted by her noises.

The nights are not for lovers or long reads into the early morning. The nights are for sleeps. And then if I'm lucky the dreams come. If I'm lucky they're good dreams. Over the past two or three years they've gone from a black shadow holding me down so I can't breath to having to write high school essays again.

I fought of the black shadow and recently have told the teachers what they could do with their high school essays as "I've already gotten a university degree." I don't mention to them how easily I was pushed through the theatre department for moxy and imagination.

I dreamed last night to a baby, a baby that warmed my heart. There was also a handsome husband who cared about our emotions and our welfare.

I woke up happy. My rusty heart was beating again thanks to a simple dream and the love I had for myself and my home.