Mother

I am a mother.

My purpose, my heart, my life has been given to my babies.

As each of you was born, as I carried you, I felt your presence, I heard your song, and I hummed along, attuned to the beating of your hearts.

To be a mother is to wrap your love around another and to nurture that life.

I was so young when my first was born. I was a baby, and yet I felt so strongly that I could be better than I was, that I would make my son proud.

It was hard; my world was so dark. I had so little to give at the time.

But I gave my heart, and I knew that I would learn how to be the person I needed to be. Each day was dedicated to that purpose.

Each child made my will grow stronger. My fierce love for them made me realize that I needed to learn how to turn away from what harmed them, and what harmed me.

Education was the answer for me. For each book I read and each thing I learned about health and life was for me and for them.

I tried so hard to keep my little family together. I tried.

The bravest thing I ever did was letting go of false ideals as I stood against the breach, going to work in the cold corporate world when I would rather have spent my life just holding my children and loving them.

But I am a mother, I am a woman, I stand when others fail because I could not let my children down.

And I don't know if they know this, but they gave me life as much as I gave it to them.

Americans

Miles and miles they roam from sea to shining sea facing the unknown, facing the world, facing the shadows of you and me.

Frontiersman and fools, fabled supremacy, panning for gold distantly.

Alone we stand, alone we rely! Alone we fight, alone we die!

Americans

Burning

Over and over I try to write 

of the passions flowing through my veins

my heart bursts

memory aflame 

it's maddening

how the fire burns

low, and deep

unsatisfied

la

you devil

you absolute devil

there's no one like you

no one

the frisson from connecting our bodies

and souls

is burned into me

memory of a flame

that builds when we are together

la

you devil

burning this desire into my soul

making me ache

and fantasize

remembering our nights together 

and days

and time in between

it's a sweetness, that I can almost taste

a feeling

I can almost capture

you devil

making me burn

Exploring the Wilderness

There is something whispering to my soul

it has always driven me

made me pause

listen

and search for the source

the beating of my heart

blood coursing through my veins

it's a wild, untamed thing

when I stand under magnificent trees

the wind blowing through the leaves

I feel it

grand waterfalls as well

there's a power in this world

that moves through us all

and when I'm near you 

I feel it too

Can you feel it? 

Our breath moves together

as we clasp each other

hearts beating

skin tingling

bodies aching

blood coursing

your scent 

and mine

together

the quiet of the room 

interrupted

it's wild, untamed

magnificent

kinetic

and I pause

to look at you

and feel you near

looking up 

into your eyes

trusting

there is power in your kiss

it has always driven me

to the edge 

of madness

every inch of you

drives me wild

Sometimes

It's enough to like what you like and get done what you get done.

I sometimes need a reminder of this. 

I look at all the many possible paths I could take, hobbies I could do, and sometimes I think I'm pretty boring.

So I'll put in extra effort to be more interesting, which is exhausting. I end up lost in a place I don't really understand.

So I reclaim my story, my unique oddness, and dust it off. In doing so I discard my ill fitting impersonations. 

And pick up all those interesting bits of myself, that I discounted before.

Refrain

 I miss you

I felt at home in your arms

we got along

there was joy

companionship

you know

it was beautiful

I loved you.

I look at my life,

I see, short lived fantasies

don't know why there are so many

I think I'm a solid catch.

I have what I need though

a life

a family

and friends 

I guess it's enough

but I miss you.

What if?

Life is confusing, especially all that stuff about finding your purpose. I don't know if people really know what that means. A purpose implies that someone has planned something for you and that you're drifting around looking for it. But I don't think that's how it works.

We are driven by needs, love, safety, security, and basic biology. For me, there's always been a need to prove myself. That I'm worthy, that I'm worth it, that I am beautiful, loveable, likable, smart enough, good enough, yeah, just basically worth having around.

But it's not only been that I've wanted to prove to myself that I was worth it as well, that I could do all the things people said I couldn't and also all the things that I wanted to do. I've always wanted to learn more, do more, be more.

In reality, I think I've felt on a very basic level that we are all in a system that doesn't allow us to do what we'd like. We are trapped here and the more we want, the more we have to give to get it.

If I could, I'd somehow circumvent it all, pay off all my debt, and be free to do whatever I like with my time. Which would probably look like me reading, writing, creating and just being myself. But I'm trapped, along with most everyone else, and that's how it is.

I don't think life has a purpose, I think we make life what we want it to be by putting into it what we want to get out of it. If I could, I would create a fantasy land, where we all could live and create and just be happy. Wouldn't that be beautiful? The land of possibilities and creation. Just being with people who feel the same way and want to live the same way?

Appreciation

Beautiful, beautiful world

Stalwart mountains

Drawing the eye upwards

the mountain tops painted

with hues of grey, green and white in the winter

the variegated blues of the sky

changing with the day

oh beautiful, beautiful world

the sound of the birds

the rivers that run

the insects and wind through the trees

oh beautiful world

the scent of a fire, and water and leaves

oh beautiful, beautiful world

the emotions we all feel, the good and the bad

we may cry, and sigh but one day we all die

and return to this beautiful, beautiful world

Relationships

From my blog 9/27/2013

I've been thinking about the sacred nature of relationships. 

Developed they are beautiful, it is wonderful to have someone who understands in some small way what makes you tick. 

To make a connection with another soul. 

It becomes a source of compelling strength; mind, body and spirit. 

A space where you know just what to expect from someone. 

As human beings we have the capacity to allow these relationships to be created, but they can be harmed. 

The tenure of the relationship will then change, no longer be the loving bond created. 

As a developing person, always reaching towards a better understanding of life, I can see so many areas where I need to improve. One of those areas is the delicate balance between relationships that needs to be created. 

Nurturing good friendships, weeding out what isn't working. Re-evaluating jealousy, seeing it for what it is, insecurity. 

There is a fine line to maintain when treading within the heart of another and when they are a part of your own heart. 

Once that has happened, change cannot come about quickly, lest you damage those bonds and permanence is the result of a temporary feeling.

There is a cycle of birth and rebirth within each soul. Birth and death. 

I've been learning about the deep well of intuition in my soul.

Sometimes it tells me things that I don't want to know.

I try to listen, but facing the truth is hard. 

Especially when it means the end of something that you love.

SG

Alone

Alone again

The time's so brief

With others

Alone again

Alone

Sometimes I'm whole

All alone

Sometimes my soul

Just wants

Another

Alone again

Alone

But not abused

Alone again

Alone

Longing

I loved you

You bright boy

You filled my heart with joy

It echos through me

Empty

Alone again 

Alone

Fables and Fairy Land

A bit of my writing from sometime in the distant past

The details were not important to Millie, she loved being alive and so no matter where she lived, she was a fairy or an undiscovered genuine princess. She lived and breathed the world, the lady bugs delight, friend of the fuzzy caterpillars, sister of the tree's.

So naturally when she had finished stretching out on the ugly green carpet, moss covered forest lichen to you and me, she skipped outside to say hello to her sister fairies and to find her own little home to curl up in for a while. She was dismayed to find that there must be ogres running around, because who else would leave so much litter here and there? She vowed to come back with her sister fairy Emily, when the matter of the little dwelling was solved, to clean it up.

All around her was forest magic, large bushes of intimidating size shut the way to the enchanted valley and prickly thorn bushes with their bright red berries guarded the path to the calm forest stream. No matter, who cares about bushes and their business anyway.

She turned into the arms of the welcoming tree's. She spied it! Her little home! She knew it would be there, young Chinese elm trees, which grow tall with branches extended towards the sky, were intertwined in a little circular gathering.

There were lovely places to sit, stumps and fallen trees. Someone had prepared the kitchen, the leaves had been strewn rather nicely on the floor and there were two level tree stumps, just the right height for a forest stove top. Tomorrow she would come with some eggs to cook on the stump burner with the circular element.

She felt so happy in her little home, that she hugged the nearest tree with endearing emphasis and knelt on the beautiful brown and white leaves to inspect the ground. She found herself laying on her stomach watching the ants when it suddenly occurred to her that she might not be able to recall the way out again.

Sudden terror gripped her young heart as she remembered the princess who was lost in the woods, surrounded by foreign sounds and creatures. Her friends the tree's looked down on her in their tall way and she shivered a little. Feeling the way that you might if you found yourself surrounded by tall strangers who don't understand skipping princesses.

She edged herself nearer to the little tree friend she had just hugged, she felt this little tree must be near her own age since she too was so very small. As she stood, afraid to move, she heard the call from her sister Emily. "Millie, where are you?" "Millie, dinner is almost ready. I'm hungry and mum said we can't eat without you!"

Suddenly Millie grew angry with her sister, walking in here, bringing the outside world with no respect for tree's and magical pathway's. So she kept silent, her sister grew nearer and nearer. Millie shrunk back into her little home, still silent, until Emily walked past her hiding place and she could hear her walking huffily back towards the house.

She dashed out of her hiding place, afraid that she would be left alone again and grabbed Emily's hand, startling her. "Oh Emily, I am so glad you came for me, I was lost." Emily gave her a look and rolled her eye's. "Come on, let's hurry, I am starving!" She tugged Millie along, unmercifully ignoring the forest, and Millie's tripping little feet until they were back to their home again.

Intimacy

Intimacy is found in the places where time stands still and you are in another world. It is created by a bit of fantasy, a bit of playfulness, curiosity, and fun. It can be found between two people hiding under a blanket, imagining that they are the only two people in the whole world, talking of inconsequential things, and kissing periodically to spark the flames between them. All the cares of the day fade away, and that is the world, the entire world. Gazing up at the stars on the back of a truck bed or blanket as the wind rustles the leaves and crickets chirp. Digging toes deep into the sand while holding hands and looking into the other's eyes. A grin on the face that reaches the eyes as you splash the other in the pool. The heartbeat of your lover as you lay your head against their chest. It is looking at their face with love, caressing the familiar features with your eyes, tracing the curve of their lips with your fingertip. Pressing a kiss against their temple and down to their neck, feeling their pulse beneath your lips. Somehow, you can experience a surge of awareness when you think of their kiss and feel your pulse quicken with the touch of their hand.

Earth Poem

We are burning, each day yearning
For the freedom we were promised
Every day a blur, it is hazy
like a gauzy film of dust

Helpless we go, reaching beyond
Reason has fled
and all we do is toil, for nothing

Really we're all dead

All we have is this moment, we have enough,
Our economy turns on our hopes and dreams
Now so empty as we empty the earth
We don't notice the silent springs

of all substance and beauty,
We'll all be shells.

Our vision is blurred to what is important
All imitations of things that once fulfilled 

We are reaching after, freedom
as the earth burns
Helpless we go, reaching beyond

Every day is a blur, hazy
like the gauzy film of dust in the wind

We are all yearning for some undefinable thing,
this goal of freedom, the promise of freedom
yet all we do is toil, most of us toiling 
in painful repetition of yesterday

Somehow we are convinced that we need more,
gadgets, gizmos

while the earth burns
We are dead, only walking briefly through a moment
we haven't realized our insatiable need for more

All we have is this moment, we have enough,
yet our economy turns on our hopes and dreams
a blurred vision of what is important
All imitations of things that once fulfilled 

Now so empty as we empty the earth
of all substance and beauty

We are all shells.

Ironies

 Sometimes I am struck by the irony of life

Be yourself they say

and so I am

So much myself that I try to heal the world

so much myself that my smoldering fire is banked 

to avoid hurting others

a drive to achieve

a drive to love

a force misunderstood

a force for good

and silence

when I should speak

Wholeness

 Communication, silence, fraught with emotion both

whisper to me of the serenity of hope 

whisper to me of life and 

I will live when your arms encircle me, 

when your lips touch my own. 

You belong to me, 

here in my heart, 

you are a part of me. 

When you are in the room 

I can hear your presence 

as the person of hope and freedom 

that is waiting upon my life, 

waiting for me to notice.

Your soul is broken.

So is mine.

Faded Crown

I dreamt you into my world

wrote down what I wanted

more understanding

more laughter

more fire

The day turned into night

then day came to be again

there you were

glorious

triumphant over the past

crowing with anticipation of the future

Magnificent being

you were my sun and moon

a crown of stars shone around your head

I thought I knew you

Did I know you?

Did you know me?

I knew a part of you

you wanted to tell me more

I think

you tried

and then the spark died away

the dream faded

where did you go?

I have memories

 Hey

Hi

How are you?

Well

I have memories

Covellite

Kisses

Fire

Guess I'm a hopeless romantic

I wasn't supposed to give my heart away, yeah?

Should have locked it up

Should have thought things through

Maybe given things space, and time

Yeah

Pretty hard to do

When your touch is fire

your kisses oblivion

But still

I have memories

Love

I love you, I just do

You're not obligated to me for this

No need to change

Or worry that my feelings will get hurt

Love includes provisions for that

I don't feel obligated to you

To try to control you

Or change who you are

That's not love

I want the best for you

But I won't force my vision of that

Onto you

I won't recind my love

Because you don't feel the same

Or what you choose to do

You are who you are

And I love you 

Fire

We don't always get to know the reason that someone does what they do

Sometimes you can like someone a great deal, even love them 

to a certain extent

but hesitate, before going all in

why do we do this?

Because, our hearts are tender

and the full breadth of what it means to commit

is always sitting in the back of our minds.

I cannot blame you, for doing the same thing that I've done

and I don't know why I am talking to you now

maybe to try to recapture the friendship that we had

my pride is hurt

I was abandoned

yet the way we kissed hello, and goodbye

well, it felt like the whole world

so intense

so real

it was fire

it meant something to me

that doesn't disappear easily

it's imprinted on my heart

The Winding Story of My Heart

I want to convey that my heart is an open book, but it's not easy to read.

It's annotated and underlined.

There are great diversions and soliloquies.

I've written notebooks of possibilities; some of them very cozy, and I get quite attached to them.

Then the possibilities veered off course, and I didn't know how they would work out. So I put those notebooks down, but not without tears.

If I follow a story down to its hypothetical end and dislike the ending, Sometimes I'll dog-ear the page, hoping to rewrite it. Driving myself mad, because the conclusions never really change.

Sometimes I'm so wrapped up in the idea of someone that it's hard to let go.

Even if that idea is painful and complicated, especially if I thought that living that life was worth the complication.

It's hard to be written off, to become a footnote, an afterthought in someone else's story. No longer the love interest, no longer perused.

I've had stories end abruptly, stories that I thought were solid.

I've been confronted by the most confusing accusations of who I was and what I've done.

Where I couldn't even interject my truth or be believed; the ending of some stories has hurt me so, so deeply.

I sometimes fall prey to diversions, diversions that keep me confused and controlled, lost and not myself.

I can love so deeply and hurt deeply as well.

Yet, I am also able to believe in others and overcome deep pain.

Because to love is beautiful, to lose is painful, but the possibility always exists of a beautiful, great love story.

One that I'm still trying to write.

Anxiety

 Anxiety

my heart is pounding

what do the test results mean?

the symptoms, they aren't going away

dizziness is back

dizziness makes me sound crazy

spinning around, stumbling out of yoga

sitting on the ground

everyone's concerned

I'm OK I say, look away

please look away

faces appear, I hide my own

what is this? what is this? I don't know

flare up? new illness? WTF is the NRBC?

Why hasn't the Dr. called?

Can't panic, I need to work

fustercluck help, I'm so tired of this fustercluck

keep going

rest

I'm supposed to begin my exercise routine, I'm supposed to work on muscle mass

oh god why don't they call me?

New medications, oh crap, infusions, injections, which should I pick?

I don't know

keep going

Restoration

I'm a romantic

a pragmatist

a saint 

a sinner

I was someone else last year

Yet also, I'm the same

Not wiser

Not stronger

tired of foolishness

yet often naïve

tired of therapy and of searching

I found the one I wanted

love, is hard to explain

it just is

a gem

a lodestone 

a sentry to the soul

loyal, true, set in its ways

broken foolishly

restored carefully

beautiful

Madness

Just came across this picture today and it sparked a memory of when I wrote this little snippet.

6/5/2010

There was no stopping her, no reasoning, the clothes had to be washed and hung, baths taken, all before she could quit for the day.

Everyone sat, a pallor on their faces, avoiding the eyes of the others.

Not Hanna, she had scrubbed the floor with a will, beaten the rugs, swept the back porch and was now doing the washing. There was a glint in her unfocused eyes, she blinked, she must focus on the washing.

They couldn't understand her obsession, no one felt up to anything just then.

Minutes ticked away in a slow procession, each one holding up the others, until Ginny May ran through, irreverent. They tried to stop her, Minerva and Uncle Wes, but she was too quick to be caught.

'Charlie, out in the back, was digging up flowers, that mutt! He had to be stopped or she was gonna have to take grief again bout bringing home a stray. Oh lordie how she hated to hear them.'

Ginny May was a flash of sunshine, the others looked at each other when she had passed. But Hanna, she kept on working, Jim would need his shirt pressed.

Out the window, she could see Ginny, as she turned each shovel full of dirt. Hanna burned the shirt as she watched each spade full of dirt, filling the hole.

Capturing a Feeling

Anticipation building, you will be there

my arms are aching, my lips are tingling

I hurry past the others, they mean little to me

You are the one my heart beats for

Your embrace, your scent

The fire builds

We kiss as though there is no tomorrow

No other time to live

As we travel I hold your hand, you kiss my fingertips

I soak in being there, being with you

Music plays and we sing along

Smiling we drive towards home

When we arrive it doesn't take long

To show you how much you were missed

Electricity 

Your scent, your taste

your touch

the flame rises and falls as we make love

we sleep

then again we move together, it's ecstasy

it's bliss

You whisper my name

I whisper yours

We smile

There are micro sparks all night

this was good, so, so good

What more could we ask?

My Heart's Refrain

“Sometimes, I sit alone under the stars

and think of the galaxies inside my

heart, and truly wonder if anyone will

ever want to make sense of all that

I am.” 

― Christopher Poindexter

Thread

The flavor of you has changed

my memories have mellowed, and dulled

As I walked many miles alone, trying to forget

I held my heart and gathered you up

and released you into the wind

I watched as you changed

or did you?

Were you always unknown to me? 

I thought, by our intense conversations,

that I would know you

So I am sifting memories through my fingers

Hoping to find the thread of what we had

to examine what it was

I let it go, when you cut me out

my motivation to mend

these frayed ends

is drifting in the wind

When You Cannot Feel The Pain

This is a piece that John, from Smoke Rings and Matterings, graciously helped me to expand. I really like the results.

When You Cannot Feel The Pain

It was almost ridiculous, how jaded she felt. The stares of others continued to jar her, to shove and poke at her. She tried not to let it bother her, she understood how inadequate words were, how no one would be able to say anything that made sense.

Perhaps what she wished was for someone to care, oh she knew that people cared, but in everyday situations people sometimes forget that extraordinary happenings are going on. They talked of life, about work, and vacations, television programs. Why couldn’t they look at her?

Every time she came into this office, she could feel the embarrassment of the nurses, the sudden break in conversation, the pity. She could sense their guilt at not knowing what to say. Yet she kept coming back - with each new pregnancy, a fresh chance, a niggling hope.

She refused to let her emotions rise. She could not, would not allow herself to hope.

She sat at the nurses' station, alone as usual. Avoided, as usual, though that was how she preferred it. They had let her use the phone to call the hospital: "The hcg levels are rising, but they haven't doubled."

She doodled aimlessly during this conversation, to avoid thinking. She had desperately searched for a distraction when she had heard the tone of voice the technician had used.

The nearest thing was a pad of paper that they used to write reminders on, some pharmaceutical company had left it, she thought of how ridiculous the medical community seemed to her, how helpless they were to help her.

She knew what the technician meant – she had heard it before though he couldn’t have known. It was their way of giving out false hope, of avoiding the truth. She had gotten used to it, they had handed her platitudes ever since she had run up against this nightmare. What a cowardly ploy.

There was nothing more for her here, she gathered her things as she felt the pressure rising behind her eyes. She couldn’t cry here, she didn’t know if she could cry anywhere.

The world had grown so foreign all of a sudden, nothing made sense any more. So she put her kids in the car and drove herself home again. Again, she felt so empty about it all, it felt like déjà vu driving out of the same parking lot, down the same road. Driving with the same questions, again, how she had come to despise that word.

Her kids couldn’t possibly know why she drove with white knuckled precision, why her voice held a note of unshed tears when they asked how long it was going to be until the baby came. “It takes a long time sweeties, be patient.” The words had almost stuck in her throat, she couldn’t say more than that, it was all too much.

She wished again that her kids had not been there at the first fateful appointment, the one where she had come up against a reality that she hadn’t known existed.

They had seen the first little one on the screen, they couldn’t have known that the heart was not beating. They had no idea what mommy was going through, their little brother or sister was just taking a long time getting here.

The blood had drained from her face, when the words coming from the doctors mouth were words of consolation, consolation for what? He hadn’t even explained what was going on and she had been too daft or naive to grasp what was happening before he started telling her that “you’re young, you can have another one.”

“Why!! she had thought, why is he saying this?” and then she knew, then she had nodded her head as if she understood, and said things to make the situation less awkward, to ease the others discomfort. He never came right out to give her an explanation, he only told her that she could have a D&C, whatever that was.

Then he had given her a number, and she had gone through an experience so foreign and alien to the naïve young girl that she had been. Since then nothing had gone right, the pregnancies had been coming and going and she had grown numb.

The cycle started the next day, again - first a little pink, then more. Gradually, the hope was drained out of her. The hope - who was it that said she should not hope? Oh yeah, she thought, that was me. Don't hope, she had told herself. Don't hope, too bad she couldn’t control what her heart felt.

It was all too much to take in - too great a loss to process. There had been too many times, it had gotten old to everyone else. They were awkward around her like the doctor and the nurses so she said things to comfort them, to ease the awkwardness and to mask the rawness of her pain.

She lay there, weakened by the cramping and the bleeding. Staring blankly at the wall, vaguely recalling that her children were playing in the other room. She lay on the couch at her mothers. It was more comfortable there, it was familiar and held normal every day sounds that she vaguely recalled.

She didn’t feel capable of dealing with her kids, they still had needs and she was tired, especially of explanations or the lack of them. At least at her moms there was someone who could watch over the kids. She lay curled around a heating pad, wrapped in a blanket. Locked into a space and time all her own, where no others could venture, intruding upon her fleshy raw emotions.

She felt alone, disconnected with the world. She had been abandoned, left to deal with the wreckage of everyone’s failure, of her body’s failure, though she didn’t blame herself. With each piece of evidence that this one would not last, she wished, at least, that she could cry.

She could not, not there, but she thought longingly of a place where she could. A place out in the wildness where no explanations were needed - the one place she could cry - and she could hear it calling to her. Her one private place, where no one would glance pityingly at her.

She wrapped up a piece of her heart and walked out into the familiar woods. As she walked, her heart cried out to the wild, to the trees and little birds and she recalled the ghost of her former self – innocent, happy, youthful, untouched by disillusionment - as she walked, she started to cry.

Deep, deep into the woods, she found a spot. She knelt on the fresh damp earth and buried her hope, her sacred heart. She sobbed until the tears dried on her face, leaving her with the odd, bittersweet relief of having cried at last.

Then she went back home, to face them - to face those who didn't understand. She found that she could face them, because she had found her peace.

Dreams

Aug 18, 2009

Speak words so softly, the night has not yet passed,

my dream a reality that I have yet to grasp.

I walk among the mountain peaks, the mists and the sun rays through the clouds. I walk and the silence speaks, speaks to my heart, drawing the venom out, and I am left with conclusions.

The internal battle fought and I am aching, yearning for something, for joy and happiness to flow like milk and honey, to be filled from your presence, not drained.

I walk in silence, through the valley of eternal twilight where the crickets chirp all the day long, they search too for something that cannot be found on the grounds parched surface.

"You are mine" you growl, desperately you seek to keep me. Yet I cannot be understood with your eyes, I am a creature of light, a creature of words.

Happiness and true fidelity will only flow from me as the give and take of life is mediated through shared confidences and understanding.

If you want me you must speak sincere words of beauty and life, or else I die, shriveled up from neglect in a corner of your prized possessions.

I will lay down my downy dreamers head, to hide from you the tears that are caused by the stinging burn of a fire that takes and does not give.

I have stayed and I stay because you are ignorant and innocent, yet fire in love with water cannot be sustained.

My well is going dry