Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2015 Jennifer Caramanica
ryn
Swimming alone in my ocean...
In search of courage
drenched and drowned
in cowardice.

I have ample foothold,
for now...
Taunting the winds
that whistled treacherously
on this precipice.

Ears to the air
I hear the faint calling
of a lone zephyr
in the traveling winds
of tomorrow.

A smile emerges.
Forgetting the uncertainties,
the shame
and the unforgiving sorrow...

Bewitched and determined
to catch this breeze
that briefly promised salvation.

Brushed away the tears,
emotional inadequacies
and lifelong trepidation.

My lips parted...
Inhaling deep
what once,
for a long time felt acrid.

Eyes closed.
I greeted the whispers
that spoke of the end.

I've wished to be amongst
the choral voices
that sang
not of strangers
but friends.

The time is now.
I've conveniently forgotten
what and who I am...
Knowing only where I want to be.

I've found courage.
I took one step
into the future.
And finally...
I'm free.
Inspired by Third Eye Blind's "Jumper".
You ask me why we never talk anymore
It's like you've erased from your memory
The fact
That we never did
Maybe you don't remember
The days that you told me
That I was worthless
Maybe you've forgotten
That December afternoon
When you manically drove full speed
Into the car ahead of us
And cried of disappointment
When you found your family
Still breathing
Or perhaps you can't recall
The Friday night
When I told you that I wanted to take my life
And you went to the kitchen
To hand me a knife
Maybe you think
That your newfound success
Makes you a better parent
Maybe you've convinced yourself
That envelopes of money
And elaborate gifts
Will heal open wounds
And fade tattooed scars
Maybe in your mind
You've rewritten the past
But I'm stuck on a page
That I simply cannot turn
It's the breeze of Autumn,
the colours of new fallen leaves.

It's the first snowfall of Winter,
the gentle fire keeping me warm.

It's the rain of Spring,
tapping on the window, singing it's song.

It's the ocean of Summer,
endless and calming.
the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.
"--you know, I've either had a family, a job, something
has always been in the
way
but now
I've sold my house, I've found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
for the first time in my life I'm going to have a place and
the time to
create."
no baby, if you're going to create
you're going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you're going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you're on
welfare,
you're going to create with part of your mind and your
body blown
away,
you're going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you're going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquakes, bombardment,
flood and fire.
baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don't create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.
I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.
little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.
Small crevices in my skin,
a constant reminder
of where I've been.
 Oct 2015 Jennifer Caramanica
oni
youll learn to
respect
the demons
you share
this earth with
when you realize
that some of them
reside within you
Next page