Life won't wait

 

(Source: Flickr / inhiu, via blua)

You can make a list, throw everything on that "to do," 

But no one will wait for you. 

Finish each step, and plot your course with care. 

When you turn around no one will be there. 

Hang on too long to relationships that don't work, 

or worse imagine ones that never were. 

It will hit you that moment when in one deep breath you get it,

  that the list will never end.

You've put your life on hold, and

waited too long.

 Choices have stolen dreams you thought would always be there. 

Imagined relationships will become clear, you are on your own.

You and your list of checked off task are your longest relationship. 

Try and crandle those in your arms. 

Do they look like you? Maybe have your mother's nose?

Nope, didn't think so. 

 

No Wait...

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I know you.  

You know me, remember?

That stuff you told me, I still hear it.  

It has latched into my internal dialogue. 

How are you walking away? 

Fist bloody from clenching can't reach out to you.

I see you, and I stay still.

You are moving on?

My knees are weak and tremble.

I am falling.

Strength, where are you?

I tell myself to let go.

Turn away.

Addictions are real.

Delicate things

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A frigid breeze is sweeping across the yard.  

It travels in from Canada or somewhere far.

The entire house sighs from the weight of it pushing against the brick.  

I sigh too.  

The North wind is heavy and thick.  

It holds.

I feel it release. 

The fear is different each way.

Tangled up in dreams of yesterday.

I am ready to pack all my delicate things; like

the robin-egg satin blue box with the ring,

and move away.

Its sharp red ribbon unfolds in flight.

The rain is coming.

Lightening blinds my sight.

Clutching the box, deep to my chest

my bare feet breach their dry nest.

The plan is to walk.

And to find where the storms start.

Maybe clean my heart.

When I turn 40

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40 will be declared the, "Decade of Mastery!"

My sassiness will be untamed along with my hair.

I will let curls go unchecked while I twirl in the rain.

Painful scars will no longer guard against the possible joy of each day.

People can talk and feel any which way, 

it won't affect me. 

Mastery.  

The ghosts that have haunted my inner thoughts will be thrown out

I will finally be a friend to me.

Hopes and dreams from childhood will be exchanged for

the result of choices I've made.

I will celebrate them.

Alone I know what I did. 

In solitary confidence I will celebrate.

This body is strong.  

This spirit is too.  

We rejoice its mastery.

I see you now

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I wasn't wise when you first came around.

I gave too much.

Talked a lot.

Blindly feeding you my secrets.

You ate them up. 

Then you rolled over.  

Your cold shoulder was sharp. 

It cleaved through my exposed heart.

Clutching it I held it out to you. 

Exposed and scared about what it meant 

You laughed and made other plans.  

  

Lone moon hung in the sky

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That lone moon hung in the sky.  

Darkness fell all around. 

Grass, tickled by the light wind, gave way.  

I sat there.  

Watching moon beams slice the night.

They didn't touch me.  

Only the single cool breeze sat with me.  

Together we agreed to solidarity.

Love leaves.  

Scratching and pulling like those moonbeams against the grass.

We all have scars when it departs.

The moon shrugged nodding toward the stars.  

The wind and I agreed acknowledging ours. 

Letting go is hard.  

In a single angry puff the wind whipped through the field

chasing his heart.

I look to the moon to feel less alone.

It is too late.

She has pulled a blanket of clouds shielding her face.

Tears fall as abundant as the grass in the field.  

Letting go.  

My soul says...

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Plato said we are one torn into two. 

Searching our entire lives, we look for our other half.  

When we locked eyes, I knew mine was you. 

Slow long drag

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Is this prison real? 

Not until I can see the bars. 

Once I see them though...

Everything changes.  

It always has.  

The prison is real. 

I hunger to be free. 

Reaching between the bars it escapes.

Elusive like a puff of smoke, freedom turns away.

The bars leave a long shadow. 

They drag slowly on my soul. 

Heaviness from their cold lock chill me. 

Till I can get them to let go.

I tug and dig my way through. 

I do it because I love you.

Out stretched hand

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One hand out stretched the other clings tight to the present. 

Wanting to change, reaching out for more...even though it hurts.  

Pelted by the negative "what ifs..." 

I stand reaching and thinking.

Not wanting to let go, 

not wanting to stay, 

stuck in the purgatory of it all. 

How can God give you what you deserve if you cling to the pain you know?

He waits for you to let go. 

A Train Runs

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There is a station that crosses the hill near my house.

The trains run at midnight.  

One blow of the horn, followed by chugging engines.

It sounds like your heart.

The scrape of metal sliding to a distant shore.

Methodic. Heavy.  

I hear your love leaving my bed.

We both accept a sprinkle of days of happiness.

Fear is the moat guarding our "ever after."

We leave it.

The risk seems too much to endure.

The sounds of the train fade.

Burdens on Fire

"It is not the load that breaks you down, it is the way you carry it."  C.S. Lewis

Titled to the left, my knees crackled and popped.

The burdens at one time were sharp, heavy and dark. 

Today, they are softer. 

Or I could be more sober. 

Intoxicating innocence has been torn away. 

Temperance monitors the small child within. 

Chipped away like old paint from a weathered barn,

burdens fall, float away.  

Peeled, they lighten.

Thighs have strengthened from trial, 

can do more. 

Just like my soul.  

I love him

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I want to be in his arms.  

Drunk in his embrace. 

I love him.  

But the air is thinner in his sphere. 

My blood flow is divided.

His gravitational pull won't let me go. 

I don't want out. 

It is warm in there under his care. 

He knows what I need to hear. 

He is there.  

I love him. 

Trouble with time...

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Elusive seductress, time.  

She dance to the beat of the Siren.  

All other things melt away.  

Then in an exhale she is gone.  

You leave as you came,

All alone. 

11 days and counting

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The click of the clock tick off the days we have left.  

Streets hold the glisten taken from lost dew.

Neither know the end is near. 

Cool wind blows in winter from the North.  

The poles are changing. 

The shift is here. 

There is green on my front yard,

 painted from summer.    

All proof the government is in on the illusion.  

They sit behind the curtain pulling strings

 to make the weather dance and change.

Some go out and deny it is all coming.  

But we know different

We saw it online.  

Haaa haaa haaa

I pretended...

“Be careful what you pretend to be because you are what you pretend to be.”

Kurt Vonnegut

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I acted like a writer.  

Put pen to paper.

Agonized over plot line.  

Fretted over character development.

Looked for names with meaning.   

I spent time in the form of hours, days, weeks and years.  

There was a time I acted like a friend. 

I reached out to you. 

Listened to woes and joys. 

 Celebrated your success 

and prayed during your struggles.

Today I still do.  

Dark things hide

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Steady now. 

The world is spinning.

Dizzy.

Breathless.

Let go of it

all.  

One exhale, 

one heartbeat, 

at a time. 

Feel it pull?

From down deep inside?

That is where all the 

dark things hide. 

Open up.  

All the way.  

Till it pulls no more.  

Not giving in

“The universe is not made of atoms; it’s made of tiny stories.”

The Tiny Book of Tiny Stories: Volume II, Joseph Gordon-Levitt

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There once was a girl that wrote a book.  

It took a year.  

Words would hide, blur and escape her 

She came to a spot and wrote, "the end."  

The girl put the book away.  

Disgusted at her story.

Not willing to share it any more.  

Along came a challenge.  

The bruises from the first book had faded.

She had forgotten their pain.  

The girl took up the pen again. 

This time the words were not so deceitful.  

They flooded her in hurricanes, at night, during the day and when the music filled her. 

The story unfolded, quickly.  

Its shape was pleasant to her.  

The characters were charmers.

She was in love.  

The girl didn't give in.

Deep release...

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Literally, let my spirit free.  

It was a deep release.  

She was tired of me.

I understood.

You left me once.

Maybe one day I will get that too.

I buried a story today.  

It lived in my head. 

Words wrapped out of soul and fell through my pen.  

The page was bright like the sun.  

Now it carries the pieces of when we were one.

I saved it to a file.  

Did not know what name it deserved  

so I gave it your's.  

It sits uncomfortably in my hard drive.  

Next to the recipe for knock me naked brownies.  

I'm not naked anymore.  

Red Line

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“An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break.” - Chinese Proverb

What if a thin line of red has tied to the edge of my fate?

What if the other end is tied to your's?

The line might be thin but it will not break.  

Although tangled, it will not tatter.

We will meet...

have met.

It is fated so.

Fate knows no clock. 

Fate stalks, waiting for that perfect time and place.

When she is ready, we will too.

Speeding to the top

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I'm coming up.  

It is lighter up there. 

Let go of the anchors.

The chains got tangled in my hair. 

The weight of rusted steal was dragging at my toes.  

I heard them snap and pop from the pressure.  

They wiggle with the freedom of letting go.

My ears are crackling and want to burst.

Your whispers fill them. 

My heart flutters.

I speed to the top.

Powered by butterfly armies are battling in my belly.

They negotiate peace the closer we become

The whirl of water passes my ears.

I explode from the wet. 

Looking for you.  

You are gone.