Healing Girl

Healing Girl

I hope you get that healing, girl

From all those things - none apologized for. 

For all the looks, the words, the pauses

For doubt, and judgement, and not belonging

Don’t just sit there on that tree stump

With hearts carved into flesh

Did the boy love the tree, and did she love he?

In end both left for dead

You corner yourself in that university bedroom

Praying to be unchained from that sleep

Drove yourself straight into oblivion

To those sunny cali streets

Or at 8 or 11 when you saw too much

At 17 when you wouldn’t give more

You crashed and burned by 21

Playing games and keeping scores

So you chased a boy, with sparkly eyes

For some healing due southwest

On that sharp cold day when he passed away

Promised yourself you’d heal the rest

But you wouldn’t walk through it - couldn’t sit in it

The air was just too thin

For breathing, or  being, or even believing

In buddha or jesus or a multitude of sins

I hope you get that healing, girl

From all those things - none apologized for. 

For all the lies, and tries, and scouring eyes

No lambs blood outside your door

But you can’t just hope for healing, Red

God damnit you know that’s truth

You’re no shy little girl, with her back to the world

You’re  only bound by your own tight noose

Stand up! look up!, look fierce! and  look brave!

You’re no lamb lost, scared and silent

Or perhaps you are, but you know for sure

You’re protected by a Lion. 

 I see you want that healing, girl

Fiery hair and eyes and spirit

Indiana’s  leap of faith, or saved by grace

Doesn’t matter -- walk right through it

No more hoping, wishing, begging

No more could have  should have been

Your on your feet, forgiving trees

And initials carved back when

I’d hoped you’d get that healing, girl

But even more i’d hoped you’d find

This courage to flourish,  no better yet nourish

Every cell he called “mine”

I see you’re chasing healing girl, 

I see you will not stop

Breathing, believing, and achieving

Every path you set to cross.

11/26/19

3 am

It's 3 am and eerily quiet
I can hear the fridge running
My mind wanders for a moment wondering what "fridge running" joke Liam would make.

It's 3 am and my heart is racing
water didn't help
Most of me wants to sit in the shower and cry -- over: spilled milk, uncertainty, and heart stuff.

It's 3 am, no now it's 4.
4:08 as I sit and stare
Am I moving forward quickly enough, or is it just an illusion

It's 4 am and I just can't breathe
Xanax down the hatch -- I have no feelings on this.
Scratch that -- I have a feeling I won't feel as much soon.

4:11 and I remember
Shameless sunny warmth, car karaoke, buckets of ice
My dad always sang to me -- Lucky Star (How very 80's)

It's 4:52 and finally the numbness visits me
I think I can convince my brain to sleep
Cheers to racing heartbeats, pharmaceuticals, and daddy issues.

Sweep That Shit Under The Rug

She said "You attract what you fear"
and I knew she was right
I've been afraid of living exposed
Been afraid most of my life

He said, "Honey you have to choose"
between this life and the next
That's when my old friend - Fear
placed his hands around my neck

It didn't hurt much anymore
It's pain I've grown accustomed to
My shaking hands, my racing heart
All symptoms that aren't new

I'll pop a pill, offer a shrug
And sweep that shit under the rug
Under the rug where things go to die
A safe place to keep my lies

One lie answers, "How are you?"
Another, "Are you okay?"
A third, my usual response
"Great", "Of Course!" I say.

I haven't been great in a while
Not in the way I crave
He hasn't seen that loving smile
In years and months and days

I've been afraid of living exposed
Been afraid most of my life
what if this woman that he seeks
He simply cannot find

What if I'm she and she is me
both one in the same
What if this person that we are
Simply can't be tamed

I'm not saying that I can or can't
I'm not saying that I won't
I'm simply outlining the facts
that I truly do not know

I don't know if this life (or the next)
Can save me from my fear
All I can offer is a promise
To try like hell while I'm here.

I'll try to outrun my friend fear
I'll try to find that laugh
I'll try to step into the light
I'll try to shed a mask

He says "There is no try -- just do"
And I suppose he's right --
So I'll do me --set myself free
And fight with all my might.

And I got startled

And I Got Startled

and i got startled

not knowing if he was offensive

in the way polka music is

(a little too loud, for a little too long)

or worse

if his offense was the kind

you feel sharply

the sear of skin

the tenderness left behind

i sit in the waiting room

full of sick

catching glimpses of him as i decide

he plays vulgar music loud

much louder than socially acceptable

i am startled

as i walk to the cold empty room

i feel his eyes watching me

offense?

maybe. 

Peoply Things

Peoply Things

I'm not so good at peoply things

like sending back an overcooked steak

or completing a to-do list

or making conversation in a freezer aisle

I'm not so good at peoply things

like meeting for lunch

or picking wet towels off of the floor 

or poltical rhetoric in an attempt to feel smart

Let's never sit and discuss 

401ks and HMOs

or how it's a buyers market

or indulge in fictional life details we make up to fit in

Instead - 

can we just -

talk about the callous on your hands

and what you were doing

or why my feet in the earth calms my soul

I want to hear how you survived 

all those years of pushing and pulling

and whether birds sing because

they are happy or simple biology

How do you call out joy in your space?

Why own a guitar you don't play?

What secrets lay behind the lines in your face?

I'm not so good at peoply things

like writing pretty poems

with ends tied together

or telling my story

or discussing the weather

Tell me whats weathering

your soul deep inside

Describe me the colors

when you rest your weary eyes

Yes, peoply things have  time and a place

Guess i'm not so good at this peoply space. 

Be careful there

be careful there

tucking that red curl behind her ear

the one that always bounces back

In a beautiful form of rebellion

Be careful there.

Be careful there

Tucking that red curl behind her ear

Don’t be alarmed when she recoils

At the uncertainty of your touch.

Be careful there.

Be careful there

Tucking that red curl behind her ear

It’s been pulled on before

In the throws of passion or the brute force of a man.

Be careful there.

Be careful there

Tucking that red curl behind her ear

With a gentle touch, she may look up

And pierce you with those Georgia stars.

Be careful there.

Be careful there

Tucking that red curl behind her ear

For it’s as tame as her wild heart

Bound but wishing to break free

Be careful there.

And if you must

Tuck that red curl behind her ear:

prepare for the rebellion.

comfort the recoil.

Be a quiet force

and a gentle touch.

For that curl, you lovingly tuck behind her ear

Has weathered the storms

And absorbed the light.

It has been moved by her shaking hands

And admired by unsafe eyes

Be careful there.

And if you are not ready

To tuck that unruly curl behind her ear

For all the numbered days of your life

Please, please, i beg

be careful there

The Wind

The wind dances on my cheek
I can't help but notice how its sole purpose seems to be to guide the tears away.

"Where have you been, wind?"

I can't help but ponder.

The very wind that lovingly dries the evidence of pain, has seen so much.

Perhaps a death, perhaps a life. Friends coming together and lovers falling apart.

"What have you carried, wind?"

That same wind the man notices on an idle Tuesday grocery run, dances in and out the ringlets of my messy red hair.

The wind is free to roam, yet in this moment its chosen me.

"Take me with you, wind"

For I have more deaths to mourn, births to rejoice, and idle Tuesdays to exist in.