i'm not sure how it works for normal people.
but i know how it worked for me.
it was june.
i was 21.
i got a call.
only a few months they said.
but i didnt understand, he's only 5.
how could this be.
how could god take something so new and special to me.
a few months ended up being 3.
he was buried in a kid-sized grave.
a family broken apart and a boy to never come of age.
before this loss i always thought there was a point.
god must have things under control right?
but this made me think.
how could this little one suffer a short life and painful death of there was a loving god?
didnt seem loving to me.
didnt seem like it was real anymore.
didnt seem like there was a purpose anymore.
i dont think i comprehended death fully until that moment.
when i saw that little body lowered into the ground and realized it would never become big.
does it all just really stop?
is there no purpose?
at 822 Pine Avenue
peach cobbler dessert
at 822 Pine Avenue
headstands and trampolines
a front porch swing
at 822 Pine Avenue
wives tales & mud pies
at 822 Pine Avenue
singing in her sleep
at 822 Pine Avenue
bird fountain and basketball net
a ball needing air
popsicle stains on shirts
at 822 Pine Avenue
mining for rocks down the alley
papa's roof was *****
at 822 Pine Avenue
drawing pictures in the front room
at 822 Pine Avenue
flash light animals
sleepovers with the twin beds pushed together
at 822 Pine Avenue
talking in her sleep
frying me bacon to eat
Sunday afternoon lunches
At 822 Pine Avenue
13 great grandchildren
at 822 Pine Avenue
Some of my vivid memories from my childhood at my Mamaw's house.
They say to be with the person you think
about at 2p.m. when you're busy.
Not 2 a.m. When you're lonely...
But you are both of those people.
And all both of you are wrong for me.
I think the statement is true, if you stop loving someone you never did love them, and if you truly love someone you always will. I have people in my life that have hurt me, that I still deeply and passionately care about, whether they are aware of this or not. A part of loving is reserving a little spot of your heart to them, just them, and even if they decide not to take it, that they don't want it, or they've moved on, that spot always has their name on it. Always unconsciously waiting, reserved, just in case they ever want to return.
I could pull up the old picture of us that always makes me laugh.
I could re-read our old text messages where you express your feelings towards me.
Or I could turn on the song we listened to in my car as it rained last night.
But I won't.
Because somehow I know you won't turn on American Mouth just to think of me.
I think that all writing comes out of pain. Every remarkable work harnesses compassion or strain that begs you to empathize with the pain that someone-something, has felt. It is pain that has taken another form, it appears differently in plots and characters; pawns in a sense, that grace the game board of life. Nonetheless, pain is present. The Bible. A God's suffrage for grace of an undeserving people. Shakespeare's sonnets that brought us to our knees with the agony of lost love.-a lover's sorrow. In every classic there is a tugging on our heart strings that invokes a reply of our emotions.
In short, Pain is Poetry.
The inward swarming of my thoughts is overwhelming many times to the point I feel like they are all going in the same direction but cannot find the destination or how to take off. Like bees trying guard their honey when a bear comes for their hive. I feel like the same victim when I compare myself with the ideal portrayed in society. desperately trying to protect something underneath but not being able to keep it together. They slip from their comb into paws. the bees swarm over vacant areas where their used to be sweet things. Where did it go? How do I find it? Can I make more? Is it lost forever? What's the point of comb without honey. Vacancy.
Let me cut them out.
Let me cut out all the good memories from our story.
Let me paste them together.
Let me paste them into a collage that shows my happiness.
Happiness I only feel with you.
Hope you create in me.
If the me of the past, present and future could sit me down for a cup of tea.
Oh god how interesting would that be. What would she tell me?
What parts of me are real and which ones are just phases?
How do I find my “true self” and does even that, go through changes?
Is there no right me except the one that can handle the now?
Or is there a best me, that is trying to break out?
"Your Mac battery is running dangerously low."
It made me laugh that they used the word dangerously.
Just how dangerous could a low computer battery be?
Stall your Netflix watching or your Pinterest spree.
But then I thought about skype calls cut off as a father overseas is watching his baby being born.
Or a start of the wedding march as the bride in white stands adorn.
I started to think about how something innocent can become the most dangerous thing in the world. How the usage of the medium decides the power it stores.
Like a Mac battery being dangerous, another thing which is not to toy.
Three words put together and said in one accord.
"I Love Pizza." is nothing to remark.
"I love you." can start a dangerous.
I want to know you.
I want to know the deepest entrails of your being.
To be consumed by the overwhelming warmth of your presence that surrounds me, and the knowledge of your goodness.
I want to give you everything, down to the deepest crevice of my soul.
Leave Nothing, untouched.
Move me with the power and grace that flows from your calmness. Consume my thoughts and form them into yours until we are one, engulfed in the power of your love. Show me I don't have to yield to my own ways or return to my old shame. I am broken, make me whole.
Come into the deepest part of me.
Is this the good part of me that wants this? Is this the angel or devil on my shoulder?
Do I want it because I’m lazy, I’m spoiled?
Do I want it because I want to be my authentic self?
Or do I want it just because I want to seem like a person who is an authentic self?
Or do I want it to be the best version of me? The one I would have been before the world told me what to be?
Or do I just want to be different and this different isn’t different enough and I want to start over.
The girl that wants to quit her job and move to Asia
I finally understand why heaven is so hard to explain.
Because sometimes heaven is an exotic vacation
and some days it's a good book with English Tea looking out a window pane
And sometimes its simply finding the sand you tracked in on the kitchen floor as the unbelievable, marvelous reminder you have a key to my front door.
I am going to the moon, see you sometime soon. Off into the dark abyss I flee.
I am launching forward, setting a course, where the wind and the waves are far from me.
I am going to the cheese entrenched in the black expanse of the system.
I wish the television might give me some mention. "She travels where no woman has dared to go alone."
They chant kind words and put me on a digital throne.
I reach the crater with one big thump, with all of these holes there are sure to be some bumps.
And as I step off I see, the entire world is looking back at me.
The blue and green marble that I cherish as my home, far, far away, I feel terribly alone.
I look back at everything. Everything I have ever held dear or hated.
The people I love, the ones abhor. All of my dreams I see them faded.
The big blue ball holds all life except for me, you would think I would feel free.
Except that is not the case at all, I feel terribly, terribly, alone.
Far, far away, from home.
And last question...
Do you think it’s normal to all at once not feel lonely
but that there could be something wrong with you
because you are alone?
We always had that little spark between us,
which made simple things a joy when we did them together.
There has always been that magnetic energy between us, pulling us.
We have an attraction for one another.
It's made public by the way we can't help but look at each other longly.
But we both know we will never be.
Because we are both smart; smart enough to know we aren't good for each other.
And even though our hearts try to pull us together, we know nothing will come of it.
We'll become closer and closer, but never close enough.
We'll talk until sunrise but that's the only thing that will come of it, and we both know it.
We have a flirtationship.
We flirt endlessly with one another, both knowing,
Will come of it.
And so it all comes back.
Every wrinkle in your squinted eyes when you smiled towards me.
Every Laugh we shared.
The long talks and nights under the stars.
Every absent conversation afterward.
Every Blank Stare.
Every night with a tear stained pillow wishing you were there.
The reasons I adored you.
And the reasons we left.
The reasons I care and the reasons I'm pretending I don't.
They flooded in with the remembrance that hung in your gaze.
Everything I had erased has now come back.
I remember you now.
I wish I could forget.
I got to the point where I didn’t have enough self-respect to get out of it for myself.
But I did it for my daughter.
Let me explain.
I loved a guy. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. And I’m not sure if it’s one of those loves that can be replicated.
But like most crazy loves we were toxic and our highs were in the clouds and our lows were in hell.
We did things.
We both did things.
That were not ok.
After we ended it.
He ****-shamed me.
He called me easy.
A notch on a belt.
It was awful.
It was cruel.
It was All said in anger.
After time went on we reconciled. He apologized for what he said. He tried to make amends. He’d call me and say things to **** me back into this chaos of us.
I wanted to go back.
I still want to go back sometimes so ******* bad that it eats at my soul.
But I don’t.
And I don’t do it because of my fierce self-love. I wish I could say I do.
I wish I dig my heels in and look into the mirror and give myself a fierce talk and I’m good.
But sometimes that’s not enough.
When it’s not.
I do it for my daughter.
Because I will not allow her to have a father who has ****-shamed her mom.
I will not allow her to have a sexist father, who thought less of a woman because of the number of people she chose to have *** with.
I will not sit on her bedside when she’s crying over a boy and tell her she deserves to be treated better when I know I chose I did not.
I will not be the coward that tells her to be strong while gritting my teeth to suppress the memories of abuse I have endured.
I will sit on her bedside.
Look her dead in the eye and tell her, honestly.
I have been there before.
I’m better for it.
I decided to raise the bar for all women when I took a stand for what was unacceptable and she can and should continue to raise that bar.
In that moment. It will be worth it.
Let your mind go, wander, be free they say. Up to the trees where the blue birds sing.
Up high above this roof all problems will evaporate into the smell of cedar and pines.
Stop thinking too much is they say, but then they mention things I need to think.
Be free like the wind that rushes through these mountains they say, but their eyes hold me with chains.
Run run run just as fast as you can
You can’t catch me
Chasing after my next win.
While the enthusiasm I have for my current venture soaks in slowly like syrup into the cedar floor.
Why do I love to run so much?
Why can’t I be happy at a truce?
Why can’t I stand in resolve at the finish line?
Why does the finish line never feel like the real finish line?
There must be another right?
This can’t be it?... Right?
Live your life as if there is no man of your dreams.
Live your life as if you will never marry or have kids.
Provide for yourself and make the lifestyle you want alone.
Don't expect anyone to come save you.
That's what men do.
They don't wait for anything or anyone.
Neither should you.
One of my favorite quotes is from an old guru.
"God dwells in you, as you."
God dwells in you as yourself.
Exactly the way you are.
We are earthly bodies. Constricted by time, flesh and resources.
But, there is something we can do that heavenly bodies cannot.
We can feel the Earth. Put our hands in the dirt. Hug each other.
God works through our hands to feel the Earth.
Be kind to it and all of its creatures.
Sometimes I wonder if I will ever love someone the same as they love me.
Will it always be too much or not enough or somewhere in between?
I'm not sure why I have it wrong time and time again.
But I always end up feeling lonely or want them more as just a friend.
Will someone ever love me like I love them?
Will we ever walk down the same path and not have to pretend?
I'm not sure why I have these vices but my grandpa I think had them too. I found poems he wrote on a typewriter, back in '62.
They weren't about love but they rhymed in a way that showed he hurt. If I could only know the memories that lay in his body behind his tobacco smoke-infused shirt.
For my grandpa
So easy to say.
So hard to get past.
I've always had a little bit of it reflected inwardly because I've never been able to attain the appearance I wanted. I've never been quite thin enough. My hair has never been quite long enough. My skin never quite clear enough. And because of this its caused me to doubt other areas. If I can't get in peak physical shape, what makes me think I can become financially independent? Get a good job? Start my own business? If I can't control something as simple as a complexion, hair follicle or calorie, how do I think I can take on the outside world?
It's the doubt that eats you.
It's the doubt that tucks you into your grave with the could haves because you cancelled yourself out.
You're problem is not in your thighs or uneven eyebrows. Your problem is you think they're your problem.
Stop taking yourself out.
You are worthy.
You are so. worth. loving.
If you are the sun, then i want to be the moon and reflect the light that shines from you.
If you are sand, I want to be the sea and run myself all over you wild and free.
If you are coffee then I want to be the cream that makes you sweeter.
If you are a candle, I want to be the wick that burns down on the inside of you.
If you are a page, then I want to be the ink that gives you a voice.
I wish I had the eloquence of words to utter what my heart speaks to my soul boldly everyday.
My heart has faith in you, it speaks only kindness in your direction.
It is confident that you have a powerful, wonderful, bright future ahead of you, and that you are going to do great things.
It believes you have a heart for people, and it is confident in it because you have told it things you have never told any other soul before. It knows you, and knows you are good.
It wants to always be close to you, because it admires you so, and sees you differently than most people. Some people say love blinds, but really love reveals.
It reveals the best in everyone.
My heart has seen the best in you, and wish others could.
And although it would like to hold on forever, it knows that you are not it's to keep.
It must let go of you, because your place is not in the captivity of it, no matter how comfortable it may be.
So it sets you free, with a soft sweet kiss that says more than it's lips could ever murmur.
Hoping one day, you know how much you are loved.
She always had a way of standing above her circumstances.
Even in the way she dressed, it was like she was going somewhere better later. Yet above her logic and even above her poise she held within her a jar of emotion locked inside for the one worthy. The jar was hidden and no one knew just all that hid underneath the soles of her Jimmy Choo's. And my God she was brilliant, and my God she could make it on her own; but she didn't want to.
There moments when my chest feels heavy and weightless at the same time. Where it feels like it is going to suffocate me or burst out of my chest. Those moments when I'm stressed in a way that is utterly helpless and hopeful.
That's all I seem to be when I'm around you, helpless... But hopeful.
Here's to all the women who have been **** shamed.
Here's to all the women who have been told that somehow a ***** changes who you are.
Here's to all the women who have been called easy, a notch on a belt.
Here's to all of the women who have been told their value is held in their virginity.
Here's to all of the women who said back:
WHAT THE **** are you talking about?
Then rose up and proceeded to slay in every area of life.
Can I ask you a question?
No like one of those serious questions that most people never bring up on dates.
What are you looking for in a future husband?
Well, first off, none of that typical stuff, like giving me roses. Not every girl loves roses. And if you give me those I know you don't know me. I'd rather have the purple and pink flocks that grow wild on the side of the road.
And if you're going to buy me jewelry, don't. I'd rather go to a destination than get a diamond.
And I don't want you to say I love you without your eyes speaking it too.
And don't complement me on how I'm pretty. Because if the only thing you can find positive about is is that I'm pretty then I've failed. I want to be so much more than pretty.
And if we're in public don't think you have to always touch me or claim me as your own. No insecurity. You should know I'm loyal without me showing physical affection infront of everyone.
But most of all, I want a man who I can believe in, root for, support and have the courage to not limit me to a wifely role but take me as his companion, his partner in crime.
Never below, never above, beside.
Enchanted would not define the emotion that struck my being when yours eyes met mine.
You peered right into the depths of my soul, and I into yours.
Even others could see it, what we had.
Your band mates kept looking at me as you smiled and winked toward me.
My friends with me on the front row giggled and laughed about how you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me. But I was too busy staring into your soul as angelic melodies poured from your lips to listen to what they had to said. You sang the concert just for me the other 1,000 people weren’t there.
And when I placed my hand on my heart when the lyrics feel your love came up and you looked into my eyes and did the same, I was positive my heart jumped out from under my hand into your arms.
But it unfortunately remained in my chest.
And you remained on stage, 15 feet away from my grasp.
Where you remained and eventually left.
My ears still ring with the sound of your voice as I drive home in a haze.
I hope you think of me.
Is it bad how good you make me feel?
Is it bad how good you make me feel?
Is it odd to feel this normal?
Is it dangerous how safe I am in your arms?
Is it bad I'm falling in love with you?
Because if so I'm bad.
that's it. that's the story.
Your eyes inadvertently traced the details of my face, as if you were studying a map you couldn't understand, or trying to find where a piece went in an extravagant puzzle. I don't know if you were consciously aware of your eyes actions, or my hearts reactions to your gaze. But when you smiled at me with that twinkle in your eye, my heart is instantly set ablaze. It's not that I love you. Honestly I don't. And it's not that I want to be with you, because I refuse, I won't. But there's something about your presence that can't help but set me on fire. Why is your affection something I greatly desire?
You jokingly asked me to marry you, and I jokingly said yes in reply.
We laughed about our lives, and how we promise to never lie.
You said it would be a big ring, I asked if you would love me forever.
You said until death, forever and ever.
You said you loved me, Jokingly, I said I loved you too.
You said let's grow old together.
I can't deny, sometimes I almost want to.
One day I just realized.
I had a goal.
I had a dream.
And I was the only one keeping me from it.
Something remarkable happens when for a brief moment you forget that it is very possible to fail. - When a moment of brave prideful courage overcomes you and you feel like you can consume the world. You take it personally, like a mantra bubbling up from your being, "I can fix it! I can fix it!!" But so many times when we get to the problem our courage is replaced with doubt; the mantra sinking into the crevices of where it hidden again. Within us. Waiting to be birthed. Waiting to fix, something.
Dear little wood pecker pecking at my brain,
Please stop if you care at all about me staying sane.
You are small in shape but huge in sound and your beak is pecking and the most fragile part of the ground.
I wish you would go away, or peck at something else.
Because you see if what you were pecking was to be taken, I am not sure how I could respond.
There isn't a back up plan if that rope were to break, and i'm not sure exactly how far I would fall and to where it would take.
It is the only thing in the present I see to focus on and the only thing I see worth keying in on. If I had a back up plan, sure, you could peck away, let your beak not wander or stray. But right now your pecking at the only reality I see, so please please wood pecker would you hasten you beak.
I just want to be your one and only.
The first one you call when you get lonely.
Him: "I don't understand why you're refusing to meet me. Let's just talk."
"Because in the months I've been away from you I've learned to honor one thing more than anything else."
Him: "What's that?"
"My sanity. And I lose mine when I'm with you."
All along i've had this slight mental image. This slight mental distortion in my mind. The image that I was missing something not living on the fence, or completely on the other side. I had this image that there was something appealing, about living only for yourself. To live a life of me me me, and to not care about Thee. But i've finally found what I could never see before. It's not everything it seems, the world and it's shallow dreams. All of the things that I thought would bring pleasure is a graceful illusion. That traps people in the same spot, but yet still no conclusion. The exact same spot. Compromise. Living so much less of a life than what their called to. Never fully fulfilling their destiny.
And I know we won't be forever and we might not even be for long. And maybe you're not the one but your one. And maybe we don't match but neither do my socks or the plates in the kitchen. And maybe the end will be messy but so is my car and life. So why shouldn't we just enjoy it along the way?
Today I will not let the past, whether it be yesterday, a month or year ago define my day.
I will press on knowing this day would be wasted if I spend it in the past instead of the present.
I put to lie all of my losses in the grave and press on to the future.
I will remember and not take for granted, not everyone woke up this morning, but I have.
I am privileged with another day and I will honor that responsibility.
I will press forward.
I will do this because of the light in me.
I will do this for myself.
I will do this in honor of those who did not wake.
I will cherish every alive moment today.
I will honor the gift that is life with my best self.
Sometimes it's easy to be looking back before your eyes even open. We must remember the gift of today.
I got a new boy.
He makes me dance to the radio a little more.
I got a new boy.
I’ve started day dreaming a little more.
I got a new boy.
He holds me and says, kiss me a little more.
I got a new boy.
The question is always, will it be forever?
She looked at the ******* dressed young girl with a smirk.
"What, what's wrong?" The girl questioned.
She replied, "Oh darling, beautiful things don't ask for attention... I think you've forgotten what you are."
You will be able to look back at the person you lost.
And their life.
And honestly think to yourself.
And know it to be true.
"I am glad I am not there."
It might even shock you.
You see a happy moment in their life and you look at it.
Without any envy
"Wow. I am glad i'm not there."
That day was today.
There's a thousand things you've done to hurt me.
A thousand things you've said to upset me.
A thousand ways I could justify my hatred towards you.
A thousand reasons why it would be completely okay.
But there's two thousand things you've done to make me happy.
Two thousand things you've said to make me laugh.
Two thousand times i've gone to bed with a smile because of you.
And I could hate you for the thousand things you've done.
But tonight, i'm going to bed with a smile on my face.
You are goddesses.
You are powerful.
You have the power to create life.
You have the power to not.
You are fierce.
You are resilient.
You are smart.
You are beautiful.
You are a force of nature.
We are a tribe of humans that have be suppressed for generations.
Let us rise up together.
Admire fellow women without questioning your own attributes.
Encourage one another instead of compete like society tries to force.
Fight against the judgement.
Fight for the love.
LET US RISE. TOGETHER.
I remember your laugh and all the good times we shared. I remember when we were a big part of each others lives. How I could depend on you, I was sure of you. And as I now see your life through pictures and captured moments that I'm not a part of I can't help think to myself, why did I ever think I didn't want to be a part of it? Why did I make you optional?