Unfulfilled

What can I do?

I dream 

of the fire

when I close my eyes

I want you

your pleasure

my pleasure

I hear you 

even now 

I try to keep my silence 

but it's painful 

remembering bliss

in an empty bed

A future 

somehow unfolding

unfulfilled 

Song of Conviction

 I am a woman with fire in her veins,

a flame of beauty,

a song of conviction,

and a burning passion in my heart.

I've slain the demons,

that have threatened to destroy,

my sanity.

I have fought to claim myself,

for myself.

I won't let that get taken away,

by casual acquaintance with my heart.

I need someone who see's me true, 

someone who has fire in their veins 

and a song of conviction in their heart.

To be the keeper of the flame,

of passion,

of desire,

of beauty,

and all that is real.

My core is deep

and only someone of pure and good intent

will reach it.

Grandma Dorsey

 My Grandmother raised 9 children on her own

Through poverty and depravation

she persevered 

I've always heard 

that she was a saint

the kindest person

I honor her

and have looked up to her

throughout my life

through my own poverty

and depravation

It takes courage to face the world 

to raise children 

when society has failed you

I took her example and said to myself

I will do this! I will raise my children to be

Wise

and honorable

Decent 

and kind

I will raise them to work hard

to look at my example of decency and hard work

and to emulate that.

My Grandmother was a decent, honorable woman

the type of woman that I strive to be every single day.

Anemoia

I saw myself 

In a video 

From a dark, dark time

A time when my tears

Outnumbered my joy

Religion told me I had failed 

Redemption meant

Begging on my knees 

And crying into the void

I had little 

Wedding presents in the closet 

Patched up couches in the carport 

Living in my childhood room

With two little babies 

An unfaithful husband 

And a broken heart

I see myself then, I see myself now

Who knew 

I would overcome all that

Yet love

eludes me

Am I a fool?

Afraid, though hopeful 

Still I don't know how long I can stand on the shifting sands

To see if bedrock lays underneath 

Grace

 Difference

is uncomfortable

The more difference

the greater the discomfort

In some cases we accommodate 

we imagine, how it would be 

to live our lives in a chair

Or how it would be,

to not see.

However

When the differences are harder to see,

or understand,

it's easy to dismiss or reject them,

be afraid.

harder to embrace someone who doesn't fit the mold

that you were told is acceptable.

Their differences may seem like a choice,

or a personal failure.

We think to ourselves, why should we accommodate that?

But who are you to judge?

Can you really know what others face?

Can you not accept that we all try our best with what we've got?

Give others the grace, that you should also allow yourself.

Truly Mine

What I need is a deep and abiding flame

a man who sees me

all that I am

beauty and pain

ugliness too

no love can survive

without admiration and respect

Trust 

and effort

No amount of compatibility can make up for indifference 

or deception

so are you true? 

True to yourself? True to me?

Can I wake up each day counting on the sunlight of your love?

See the devotion in your eyes and actions?

Or will you make me question? 

I don't need that

Be true to me, be truly, truly mine

or leave me be.

Sunday Storm

Gathering wind, a smattering of rain, fierce elemental forces seeking entrance. Shaking the windows, rushing past the door, taking control of the pines and the aspens, sturdy fences shuttering.

My soul awakens.

The wind dashes against me as I step out onto the back porch. I feel the raw tingle of rain against my face and am drawn to watch the nodding pine tree as a dozen little aspens quake, their leaves dancing about, above the old garage.

The windows wink at me through the broken glass and the blue tarp that my father has tied on the front is drawn and dashed by the wind.

I walk against the elements, appreciating the smell of the rain, as well as the scent of wet cedar wood and pavement, co-mingling, a subtle mixture that reminds me of my parents home.

Puddles gather in the cracked pavement, the grass of the lawn a darker wet green. Worms make there way up to escape their muddy prisons, I avoid them as I step and hear the bird seed crunching beneath my feet.

I feel the fellowship of the earths spirit, speaking to my own as I walk through the storm, a fitting backdrop for tumultuous feelings. I gaze fearless about me, somehow finding my mind to be clearer, my determination more sure.

Storms come, life is like a storm. Things that seemed sturdy can be shaken and tossed, sometimes shattered. Yet the earth and I have one great goal, renewal and regrowth.

A wiping away of the old and the ugly, sewing new seeds, seeds of beauty.