When days pass in slow succession,
And the comings and goings are all repetition,
My mind wanders aimlessly to
All the days I had in a bygone youth.

How my sisters and I were mischief incarnate,
How the vilest words we uttered were “**** it!”
How the world seemed bigger when we were small
And how I believed I had a chance at it all.

Friends who came, went and never left.
Beloved pets whose death made us bereft.
Homes we helped to build with our own hands.
Times when we dwelt in far away lands.

But there is always a catch in the back of my throat;
A wish that my thoughts could fully quote
A man whose poem is so finely crafted,
I’m convinced it was never once redrafted.

For it catches by its words in near perfection
The very soundtrack to all this: my reflection.
This particular poem is quiet and mellow;
It was written by a Mr Henry Longfellow.

I write it now for you below
That you may enjoy its beauty also.

“The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.”

I have a hole in my stomach
And you think it's because I worry
About money or material possessions.
You take pity on me
For my young age and inexperience
And naïveity and general paucity.
You think you're magnanimous,
Benevolent and chivalrous.
To stoop to where I stand
In the gutter, covered
With the sweat and tears
And shards of a broken heart
Left behind by life's disappointments,
Stand alone with no one
To pull me up when I get knocked down
By the chaos that swirls
In the muck by my feet,
Stand weary and weakened
In body and soul
At having to combat the demons
Your memories invoke,
Stand lowered in your opinion
Because of my pauper's condition--
To stoop--a great commendation to your name.
But I don't care about your money,
Your gifts or your charity.
I've never cared about what you can do for me.
All I want is for once in our lives,
Your hand would reach out empty
Of things, of gifts, of material monies,
But full of kindness and empathy.

It's not what you do,
But who you are.

You say,
"You should let me love you."
And my heart skips a beat.

You say,
"You should let me love you."
And my apple-cheeks redden.

You say,
"You should let me love you."
And all my fears disappear.

You say,
"You should let me love you."
And I know that's all I want too.

You say,
"You should let me love you."

I must confess
I'm broken-hearted, damaged, and
I don't know how...

But when you say,
"You should let me love you."
I'll say,
"Ok."

There's this place
I love to visit
When the world
Has tuckered
Me out.
It's a place
Not known to many,
Which works
Just fine for me.
It can be quiet
When I want to be.
Or raucous when I party.
It's a place
That comes to me
To wrap me up
And take me home
When the fringes
Of my soul
Become so frayed
And tattered,
Ragged and threadbare,
When the depths
Of my heart
Have lost all but one drop of hope.
This place is my haven.
And though I wish for you
To find the peace here
That I do,
This place is mine
And I just can't share it with you.

The ground shook yesterday,
And the limb I perched upon
Bowed and threatened to break.
The sky above darkened with clouds
As moisture gathered in the air.
My fingers loosened from their firm grasp
Round the branches to which I clung.
And as the sky lit up with nature's fireworks
Of crisscrossing patchwork lightning
I stood up and spread my arms.
The wind picked up and beat icy droplets
Into my chest and cheeks.
And in the moment before I fell,
I yelled.
As the breath escaped my lungs
In a violent echoing release,
I closed my eyes and steadied myself
And then stepped off and flew.
Oh what a flight it was!
And the ground caught me
Like a frypan catches the tossed up pancake.
And all life was beaten from my body
And all my demons exorcised.

And then my eyes peeled open
To see the white ceiling above
And i felt the starched sheets
Chaffing my sweat-soaked skin
And I realized I have to live the day
All over again.

When you get tired
Of roaming the earth,
Will my name be on your lips
As you recall the sweet memory
Of strawberry wine and rose hips
Perfume in the air
You breathed under the stars with me
On the night you told me you loved me,
You wanted to grow old with me
But first you had to go see the world?

Have you seen enough?
Climbed enough mountains?
Sailed enough seas?
*Are you ready to come home to me?

They kept saying it was going to be okay.

Ma'am, just take a seat. Someone will be right with you.

Fingers loosened their grip,
Breaths became pants,
Tears ran as rivers,
And my mind went blank.

Ma'am, you can't go back there.
Ma'am, just take a seat. Someone will be right with you.

They never said it'd be so...white.
White walls,
White floors,
White ceilings,
White coats,
White faces.

Counting tiles on the floor,
Have to restart because feet keep getting in the way.
But no one ever tells you how quiet it can be.

Ma'am, please. Please. Please take a seat.

I sit.

I wait.

I think about praying,
but I don't know who to pray to anymore,
Because surely this can't be God.

I wait.

I sit.

Ma'am...

I stand.

Fingers tighten their grip.
Breaths slow down.
Tears cease to flow.
My mind is crystal clear.

I know nothing is going to be okay.

And I'm okay with that.

Ma'am...I'm so sorry.

Hands raise of their own accord
and I stop the words I don't want to hear.

My lips whisper
It's okay.

I met a guy,
And when he looks at me
I know he sees
Him and me
Down the road
When we're old
Sitting' on that back porch
Drinkin' sweet tea
Or maybe whiskey;
Him and me
Down the road
Livin' in an airstream
Like gypsies
Blown from place to place
Never stayin' settled too long;
Him and me
Down the road
Hand in hand
Watchin' our
Sons become fathers,
Daughters become mothers,
But always our children
No matter how old they get;
Him and me
Down the road
Side by side
Six feet under
With his epitaph that reads
"Her and me forever."
And mine that reads
"What he said."

I can’t concentrate.
Jumbled thoughts lead to
Unfinished consciousness.
I move between scenes
Like a bee flying from
Flower to flower.
A wolf’s dark eyes stare back at me.
Can you see her?
Her grey black coat
Dewy with the morning rain.
My emotions won’t percolate.
The dam of memory
Stops everything from flowing.
She’s back—
My wolf shadow.
She runs with me
From the terrors in the night.
Fingers fill with adrenaline.
I can do anything I want.
Suddenly flying through space
Like Superman.
Arms by my side.
They’re the only things I could count on
To always be by my side.
Her dark eyes grow dull.
A wolf alone is a wolf doomed to die.

I never knew love like Yours
In all my darkened years.
I never knew patience like Yours
In all my mental institutions.
I never knew what it was
To be whole in heart and soul
Until You came in
And kissed my lips
And took my hand
And led me home
Without one thought for my darkest demons.
You loved me and held me.
You fed me and clothed me.
You made Your home mine too.
And when my heart broke
And the nightmares spilled out
Like a child's box of trinkets
Scattered across the floor,
You picked up each shard of broken heart
Without so much as a second thought
To whether they would cut You too,
And gently put them back together
With meticulous finesse
Until my heart matched Yours
In perfect cohesiveness.
I must confess Your love has made me whole.

Today I sat down to write a note
That turned into a novel
That morphed into a saga
That grew into a multi volume series,
And I finally lifted my pen mid word,
Done with it but
Not done.

Today I sat down to pen a single feeling,
But it metastasized into
A whirling, swirling ball of
Confused and jumbled emotions,
And I stopped mid metaphor,
Done with it but
Not done.

Today I sat down to be simple,
But I soon realized
Nothing is ever simple
Or easy,
Or single faceted,
Or straightforward,
And I halted mid thought,
Done with it but
Not done.

Today I think I'm going to step away,
And not put pen to paper for another day.
For I think, for now, I am done.

He knew.
That's all she could think about.

He knew.
And she had no clue how.

He knew.
And that a mystery profound.

He knew.
But didn't give her the runaround.

HE KNEW.
And stayed to be her wolfhound.

He knew.
This is love, no doubt.

She knew
His promise is his vow.

Remember when we used to play
With boxes and dolls all day
Making up stories with ridiculous names,
And never getting tired of this game?

We took ourselves to faraway lands
Where our fortunes were in our own hands,
And we could be the richest clown
Or the poorest chump in town.

Our worlds were rich and thick with lore.
Because nothing else mattered to us anymore
Except for the things we could dream in a day
Before we had to go in and stop our play.

Oh what times of great fun!
The imaginary worlds and tales we spun!
And when the moon rose through our windowpane,
I knew even then I couldn't complain,

For though as sisters we fought and battled,
And at the time, we may have seemed frazzled,
There was a certain unity we possessed,
Though it's existence we've never confessed.

We are very different people today.
We don't go off in backyards to play.
We work for our livings with measured stress
And sometimes in the midst get a bit depressed.

But what I'd like to change right now today
Before our adult lives get too underway
Is the forgetting of what used to be
When we needed each other terribly.

I may not need you to save me
Or fix me or change me
But I do still need you
For the occasional rescue.

Just like you used to take me away
In our backyard when we would play.

When I struggle
To stand up straight
After getting out of bed
In the morning,
When I keep dropping
Everything my fingers
Curl around yet can't seem
To keep a firm grip on,
When my eye twitches
Uncontrollably throughout the day
And especially at night
While I'm watching TV,
When I lay my head down
Finally at the end of another long day
And hope to slip away
To Slumberland unimpeded,
When I **** awake at 4 a.m.
With sweat crawling down my back
And the scent of fear in my nostrils
All because of memories,
I think to myself,
"I am sick and tired of drama.
I am sick and tired of being depressed."

Today I'd like you to raise your glass
For I've someone I'd like to toast.

Her hair curls like a corkscrew
And I've always been envious.
Exotic beauty shapes her eyes
And ears and lips and nose,
And I always wished I looked like her.
It isn't merely her looks I covet,
For she has a brain with intellect
That rivals the best rhetorician
From Plato to Hobbes to Sartre.
Pick any topic and she'll begin to debate
With practiced ease
Until the other's hand is thrown up
In plain defeat.
But it isn't just her forensic skills
That I wish to possess.
There is yet more to this curl topped girl.
Her heart is bigger than the world.
She loves with compassion
And sympathy
Like I've never witnessed before.
This is what I envy and covet the most,
For where her heart of gold lies,
Mirrored in me is just stone.

She may be younger in years
But she's always been a hero of mine.
And I hope I will continue to be in awe
As she shows the world
Who we all can strive to become.

To my sister.
Sláinte

I asked the stars
If it was ok to make a wish
Even in the daylight
Because I hate facing
My demons in the night.

I asked the stars
If it was ok to make a wish
Even in the daylight
Because at night the tears come
Too quickly for words to form.

I asked the stars
What price I had to pay
For my daylight wishes
To come true.

I asked the stars,
But what can stars say?
They are but light from a distant past
With no bearing whatsoever on the present.

A thousand summer suns
Could never melt my heart
Like a day with you in the garden.

A million working ants
Could never carry me away
Like watching clouds with you on the lawn.

A billion drops of rain
Could never whet my thirst
Like a night with you neath the stars.

Wherever I go, I see you.
Wherever I am, you are.

We may fight and struggle,
We may bicker and spar,
but at the end of day
I remember this:

A thousand summer suns
Have not melted my heart;
Yet a single day with you has.

I'm sorry I hurt you.
I never meant to.
I thought the lies were for your own good.
I didn't know they'd be misunderstood.

You were my best friend.
And you'll always have a piece of my heart,
Even until my most bitter end.

I'm sorry.
Goodbye.

I wake up and take a deep breath but most days it barely helps to ease the sharp stabbing pain in my heart.
I get up and stumble to the bathroom where I’ve written “Cheer up, Charlie” on the mirror to remind myself that all is not lost.
But when I get there, my head is hung too low to see the mirror and the words that are meant to support and encourage.
I get dressed slowly but not because I care about what I’m putting on.
Most days I grab something from the hamper and make sure it’s not too smelly.
By then my morning ritual is almost done.
I’m just missing one last piece.
I look up at the clock and take another deep breath.
Here goes nothing to start and get through another day.
With that breath, I slide the mask into place and walk out the door to go to work where no one will notice the pain, the sorrow, the brokenness.
The mask is my savior, my hiding place, my peace from all the chaos, for even though I know what it hides, I choose to be disillusioned by it.
I choose to see myself as whole, as untouched by you, as loved, as happy, as friendly, as…as me.
And for twelve carefree hours in my day, I can believe the lies I’m telling to the world:
That I’m ok even though you’re gone.
That I’m just fine even though the person who said they’d never go abandoned me too.
That I’m fit as a fiddle even though this ulcer is eating me from the inside out and I just don’t care because you don’t either.
That I’m happy living on my own even though I confessed to you all my fears of living alone, but that didn’t stop you from up and leaving.
That I’m strong enough to pick up the pieces of my broken heart and somehow put them back together even though I don’t even know where all the pieces are.
But then the end of the day comes and I find myself standing in the middle of my bedroom again.
I begin the evening ritual with dread filling every pore of my being.
I change into my pajamas, I brush my hair, I wash my face.
And then I take off my mask.
That last piece.
I fall on my bed exhausted from the pretense of the day.
I fall on my bed exhausted from holding back the tears all day.
I fall on my bed exhausted from missing you.
I fall on my bed exhausted from still loving you.
And then I cry.
I cry for the girl who never knew the life she dreamed for could be this painful.
I cry for the girl who thought she had finally found someone she could rely on only to find her judge of character was grossly wrong.
I cry for the girl who wanted many things from life but now would give all that up just to have you back.
I cry for me.
I cry for you.
I cry for us.
And then in the midst of my crying, I sleep.
I sleep with dreams of you and me.
I sleep with nothingness.
I sleep only for a short while as has become my habit.
And then I wake up and take a deep breath.
A deep breath and it begins again.
Did you know?
No?
Well…now you do.

Most days I'm ok.
I get up in the morning
Happy to go to work.
I eat my lunch under the pine trees
With a little lizard I've named Bob.
I get home at night and throw on
Smooth bluegrass while I make dinner.
I've got my routine and hardly vary.
But on the days that stray
From my habitual cadence
I also find my thoughts wander to you.
And even though you've been gone
For some time now, and we've both moved on,
I can't deny the existence
Of that small hole in my heart
You left behind.
And I wonder,

*Do you have one too?

Laying in bed
Thinking of what my favorite
Childhood memory is,

And I think of that time
Your head popped over the edge
Of the railing on my loft bed,
And you whispered,
"Permission to come aboard?"
Because out of everyone in the family
You respected my dream of joining the navy,
So when you wanted to spend time with me,
You always asked me that,
As if my space was a ship
And I had to give you permission to approach,
And even though now you and I aren't that close,
You've always known how to approach me,
And you don't know how much that means to me.

And I think of that time
You and I climbed out the window
Above our toilet in the bathroom
Onto the roof to eat dinner there
Because we were turning 16
And that's how we wanted to spend
Our shared birthday.
And we sat there watching our neighborhood
As the California sun set in a brilliant red-orange hue.
And then you said, "Happy birthday, Twainy,"--
That's what we've called each other
Since as long as I can remember--
And my heart stopped a beat
At the sudden realization that
I didn't know how to live without you
Because you had literally been there
For every moment of my life,
And even though our lives have diverged
You don't know how much that that means to me.

And I think of that time,
No, not just that time,
But all those times
You tucked us into bed,
Then sat down to read a chapter
From whatever book you were reading to us,
And I didn't know at that time
How much you reading to us before bed
Would mean to me,
But ****** all if I don't know it now,
Because, you see, stories are all I have left of you.
So I write stories, I read stories, I tell stories,
I live stories
Because when there's a story,
It's like you're still reading to me,
And I'm just not ready to let that version of you go.
But you'll never know how much you meant to me.

I am who I am today because of you.
All the bad but so much more all the good,
And you don't know how much
You will always mean to me.

When you get a chance to apologize,
Don't say:

I'm sorry, but....

Just be the adult you say you are,
Then what you say will be enough:

*I'm sorry.

Safety net beside
Now; awhile I’ve been longing.
You contain my soul.


Cold nights make me warm.
Cold nights remind me of you.
Now I am alone.

How is it that I long,
No, yearn,
For a place I've never been,
Never seen,
Never touched
My toes to its land?

How is it that I pine,
No, crave,
For a home I've never lived in,
Never sat down in,
Never woke up
From peaceful slumber in?

How is it that possible?
To be so full of feeling
For that which I have only ever imagined:

Home where tranquility prevails;
Home where joviality reigns;
Home where love utter saturates.

Home where
My hands know their crafting dexterity,
My feet know their dancing steps.

Home where my heart beats.

How is this feeling more real
Than that which I have lived through?
For it is;
This longing tells me it is;
This yearning proves to me it is;
This craving solidifies its existence.

I want the intangible to become tangible.
I need the imaginary to be reality.

I write for no one.
My cadence and rhyme,
My similes and metaphors,
My free verse and sonnets,
My poetry is not for you.

I write for no one.
My word painted masterpieces
Of lyrical brilliance
With balanced tone depth
And rich hues of experience
Are not on display for you.

I write for no one.
My sidewalk art is not for sale.
My music scores are private.
My dance moves are copyrighted.
And no one can make me share.

I write for no one.
But I reserve the right to be...
Contradictory.

I write for that little ******* the slide
Who is wearing denim overall shorts
Because it's 1991 and that's what people do.

I write because she had a dream
Once of being loud and obnoxious,
And I'd like to support her dream.

I write for that teenager
Riding her skateboard at midnight in A-town,
Because it's 2001 and she's got nothing better to do.

I write because she made a plea
Twice with me,
And I'd like to save her if I can.

I write for that college graduate
Who sits in the crowd, proud,
Because it's 2010 and people got some living to do.

I write because she lost a bet
And needed a way out of being muzzled,
So I agreed to be her voice.

I write for no one.
I write for me.

I waited for you
By the bridge
We used to sneak under
To play with firecrackers
And tell ghost stories
Under the pale light
Of the full moon.

I waited until
June bugs and crickets
Filled the summer breeze
With their chirping buzz buzz buzz.

I waited until
Glow bugs twinkled
In a floating mirror image
To the starlight above.

I waited until
The scarlet hues of dawn
Began to saturate the sky,
And the glowing ball of light
Greeted gently the world below.

And when the sun was fully up,
So was my time to wait.
And though my footsteps dragged
As I meandered
Back through the quiet streets
We grew up racing our skateboards down,
I couldn't help but think

When I look to the sky
Something tells me you're here with me
*And you make everything alright.

When drafting
Poetic masterpieces
On a Personal Computer,
**ALWAYS PRESS SAVE.

got a lot on my mind today,
as i write this letter to you.
all the words that i wanted to say
but never had the strength to do:

now that you're gone,
i can finally breathe again

sigh

**It feels good to breathe.

I don't get too many phone calls,
But I didn't think much of it
When the vaguely familiar bars
Of an old popular soundtrack
Began gently drawing my attention
To my hardly-used-except-to-Google-things-
Or-play-hours-upon-hours-of-­word-games-
Unless-I'm-on-a-Netflix-binge
Smartphone,
(Which I obviously don't use as a phone,)
Because someone was calling me.
I was flabbergasted in the next heartbeat
And didn't know what to think
Say
Do
Feel
So I just stared at the screen with your name.
Stared at the flashing lights
Until it all went dark.

It took me exactly 21 years
To begin to accept my given name.
It was unique and as a kid I was...not.
I wanted to fit in, to belong, to get along
With all the other kids,
But for years, the name you gave me
Haunted every time someone called out to me.
Things changed the year I was 21.
The weight and gravity of names
Became clear and more understandable to me,
For a name is not merely an appellation
By which others in society
Are able to gain your attention,
No, names are powerful things.
They direct the thoughts and consideration
Of those we interact with
Because our name is often
Their first impression of us.
And I began to consider my name,
It's meaning,
It's origin,
The reason you named me it.
And as the knowledge grew
So did my appreciation
Until I embraced it with eagerness.

But just as I began to realize
That my name influenced how others saw me,
I began to see that what I call others
Influences me.

Your name has gone through a few transformations
In these past few years,
Much like you yourself.

On the flashing screen of my mobile
Where it first read:

mama

mom

mother

Your Given Name

Now it reads

**Do Not Answer. Ever.

Ours is a tale not meant for the telling.
No warnings or heedings need be passed on.
Ours is a story just meant for the living
And letting go into the forgotten history of humanity.

And yet I have each letter, each note, as keepsake;
To what end, I still haven't figured out.
I wish I could forget you
Like you've so easily forgotten me,
But my memory was always that much better--
Your external hard drive you called me--
Now my blessing to curse has turned.

Except, even without the physical mementos,
I would still be able to close my eyes and
See my hand reach out to that one errant lock of hair,
Hear your boisterous unbridled mirthful laughter,
Taste the savory meal your willing hands prepared,
And bask in the leftover glow of a lost true love.

With my eyes closed, we still exist.
With my eyes closed, we always exist.

But my eyes can't stay closed forever.
I have to open them now.
And I hope that when I do,
I'll hate myself a little less for ever loving you.

I could do this forever.
It's like
Running into an old friend
And sitting down for just one cup
Of coffee, then realizing you've had five.
It's like
Settling into the plump plush pillows
In a darkened room as the beginning credits
To your weekend marathon roll across the screen.
It's like
Shaking out that huge-*** beach towel
On the warm sand and pulling out
The stack of super-fast-read ****** paperbacks.
It's like
The first bite of Pavlova
And digging in and digging in
Until the whole cake is gone and you don't regret it at all.
Its like
Finding that last reserve of strength
To channel all your power into your fist
And strike the bag so hard it loses sand.
It's like
All the things I love to do
And doing them all at the same time.
That's what this is.

When I was ten, I dreamed
Of being in a uniform on a ship,
With a purpose in life.

When I was fourteen, I dreamed
Of being in love at a young age
With my ever-after man.

When I was seventeen, I dreamed
Of going home to the place
I had been sent away from.

When I was twenty, I dreamed
Of a family reunion twenty years away
Where everyone smiled and forgave.

When I was twenty-four, I dreamed
Of happiness I had already lost hope in,
Love I had no faith in.

Now...I dream
Of sleep--
A full night's sleep,
A more-than-just-a-couple-hours sleep,
A physically healing and refreshing sleep...

A sleep where I don't dream.

Woke up this morning to the sound of rain
Wondered where you'd gone.
Woke up this morning to the sound of pain
Ringing in my ears.

You never saw the face
Of this lonely little girl.
All you saw was your tragedy,
Oh the calamity of your life!
What a sacrifice!

How many years do I have to wait
For you to apologize?
How many times does my heart have to break
While waiting here for you?

You never saw my tears
As I cried myself to sleep.
All you saw were your memories,
All the adversities in your life
That you gave me to bear.

How many years do I have to wait
For you to apologize?
How many times does my heart have to break
While waiting here for you?

I never knew what it'd take
For me to hear you say,
"Good job!" and "I'm proud of you!"
And "I love you too!"
Instead you just left me behind.

How many years do I have to wait
For you to apologize?
How many times does my heart have to break
While waiting here for you?

Woke up this morning to the sound of rain,
Knowing you had gone.
Woke up this morning to the sound of pain
Ripping out my heart.

But I'm not gonna wait here anymore
For you to apologize!
I'm gonna pick my heart up and move on
From waiting here for you!

Woke up this morning to the warmth of sun,
Shining down on me.
Woke up this morning to the sense of peace
Spreading through my veins.

Red hued water swirls round the drain.
Bloodied hands wash themselves of sin.
Vacant eyes glance briefly in the mirror.
As the once temporary mask grows permanent.

The charade will continue.
The show must go on.
The bright and magicked aural lies persist.
For this is the reality of life.

Every human is an actor.
Every life has its stage.
And there is none willing to consider
Taking a peek behind another's curtain.

Too many acts to follow.
Too many roles to play.
We're all grifters and cheats
Trying to make a way in our worlds

And get everyone else to believe
We belong here as much as the next.

For the broken don't belong.
The wounded and bloodied don't belong.
The scarred and marred don't belong.
Not in a world that prizes symmetry
And wholeness and uniformity.

What is uniform about the bags
That darken our eyes?
What is whole about the scars
That shade our arms?
What is symmetrical about the sad smirks
That crook our cracked lips?

What is prized about our brokenness?

So we play our roles
And we play them well
So no one knows
Our brokenness.

But we do.
For our reality is in the mirror.

The now shattered mirror
Streaked with blood
To match the cuts
New to our fists.

When you walked out
On your daughters
And husband of 22 years
With the fear
That you would never
Be worth anything
In the eyes of the world
If you were merely
A housewife and a mother,
Did you think they didn't love you
Because you were just
Their wife and mother?

Did you not understand
That you were the other half of his soul?
And the bringer of life into the world?
As such, the universe
Could never think of you as mere!

It used to be
After we parted
Your face was everywhere--
Every billboard, every flyer--
And your words were everywhere--
Every billboard, every flyer--
And I couldn't escape you
No matter how hard I tried.

Then time passed.

And I'd be going through my day,
And your face was just somewhere--
Some billboards, some flyers--
And your words were just somewhere--
Some billboards, some flyers--
And I found myself actively looking
To see if I could find you somewhere.

And time passed.

And today I realized the date,
And turned expecting to see a memory,
A face,
My past,
You,

But your face was nowhere,
And your words were nowhere,

Because it wasn't the date I thought it was--
That date had passed
Without my realizing,
And today was no special day,
Just another ordinary day,
And I smiled,
Which made it an extraordinary day.

I'm going about my life everywhere--
Every billboard, every flyer--
Just another model in an advert.

I haven't talked to you
In close to a whole calendar year.
How could you possibly
Understand how I feel?

Do you grow weary
By day's end?
Do your bones ache
With an ancient pain?
Do your eyes wax dim
As your strength fades?
Do you grow weary
By day's end?
Does your heart repine
With dreams?
Does your soul languish
For peace?
Do you grow weary
By day's end?
Do you trudge to bed
With tears unshed?
Do you grow weary
By day's end?

Or like me,
do you awake
And start your day
Wearied and humbled
From all the days
That came before?

I waited beside the sea tonight
For the moon to rise above.
I listened to the waves
As they crashed on the shore,
And pondered the meaning of love
And loss, life and longevity,
And why clown fish live in anemones.

The cold salty water
Breached the shore
Where I sat,
Wiggling my toes in the sand,
And the sudden coolness
Shocked my mind
From the depths of deep consternation
Over the feelings of solitude
Amid the crowds,
And into the sharp reality
That I had chosen to sit alone
With the sea,
As is often my practice and habit.

I pulled out my paper,
Wooden board and fountain pen,
And began to scratch out a letter,
For what Lord Byron once said
Is very much true
Especially for us who are hermits:

*Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company.

When dusk settles
And the orange fades to violet,
When night falls
And the moon rises in the sky,
When children slumber
As the stars twinkle in the distance,
I finally let my thoughts drift to you.
To balconies littered with African violets.
To macaroni and cheese with cherry tomatoes.
To your ever raspy voice
As it wove into my imagination
The sepia-toned memories of your youth.
To pushing your wheelchair
Up and down the hills of the zoo.
To saying goodbye on that windswept hill
Overlooking the city you so loved
And will forever watch over.

When trains rattle
Across iron-wrought tracks,
When dreams ensnare
My subconscious during the day,
When someone calls out
My full untruncated name,
Your face rises unbidden to my mind.
The baby blanket you sewed for me
Before you even knew me.
The gameboy you kept for me
To play with on our "special days".
The letters you penned faithfully
To the seven-year old me,
Though I was no longer "officially" yours.
The pain at having to say goodbye
But not knowing where you are.

To the great- and step- grandmothers
who had no obligation
Towards me to love or care or cherish
But did so anyways every day
You were in my life
Before the Fates cut your threads,
I love you, and I thank you.

I made it my daily habit
To paint on a face of "I can do this."
No one knew of the bleeding stripes
On my back or heard my silent cries.
They only saw the laughter
On my lips that never reached my eyes.
They only heard the embellished tales
I spun to hide the shake in my voice
When I tried to avoid
Talking about my real life.
Covered up and hidden away
Were all my bruises and wounds.
No wonder no one believed me
When I wiped the mask off my face,
When I stopped spinning yarns,
And uncovered my back and lifted my eye,
And laid bare my soul for them to see.
They thought it another trick,
A story for them to dismiss,
Instead of the plea for help and mercy
I had finally drummed up the courage to make.
It is fear that drove me to hide.
Fear and my most stubborn pride.
I wanted to be whole more than anything else.
But the truth is that I'm broken and in need of help.

Now, though, there's none who believe
The words of truth from my mouth
For I've spent far too long hiding behind
The words of an embellished life.

She said,
"By the time you blink your eyes,
The year will have passed,
And you'll be home!"

I left with those words ringing in my ears.
I held to those words for three hundred days
And I chanted those words for sixty-five more.

Then just as she promised
With a blink of mine eyes
The months became a year
And thus I returned.

Little had I known
What she was really going to say
Was,
"Blink,
So you won't see me leave."