sitting underneath the stairs, i realized suddenly:
i could die here.

i could die here,
and would anyone know?
i could die here, under the dirty staircase,
and nothing would change.

a friend of mine came for me eventually;

someone i don't know too well,
but well enough.

and she squeezed my hand and told me,
"you're not alone."

as my breathing grew ragged and my chest constricted and my eyes ached, i belatedly realized that was the most terrifying prospect of all.
only thing worse than feeling alone is knowing that so many others feel alone... hope everyone out there is feeling loved
i can’t remember a time before i wasn’t caught
in the pearly whites of your canines, or an era
when i wasn’t perforated apart by your cannonballs,
shot down by the bullets of the glistening emeralds
you call your eyes.

i can’t remember a time when my poems
wasn't dedicated to memorising every detail
of your raven eyelashes curving to the sky,
or how the warmth of your palms transcend
the coldness i tolerated in my heart.

i can’t remember a time when i didn’t
have something to lose, and i think that started
when your honey-lidded gaze fall on me in the
middle of a crowded room with too much sound,
but i can still hear the ‘i love you’.

i can’t remember a time when you used to be static
-pure background noise, irrelevant, unnoticed
after all, doesn’t it drive you crazy how much
someone could mean to you?
at first, they’re a whisper in the dark and suddenly-

(boom!)
i cranked up the amp
to ten, as the chord rang out
scaled the speaker

         i could see townshend
from my peak; fell, splintered the
      bass. so this is rock.
Nearly broke my arm at band practice today. Guess how :)
You would not be the first
to slip quietly out of my life
faintest of footsteps wilting
gently into the first notes of dawn's overture.

And what rabbit are you chasing
down this hole you have found by the willow?
do you not fear its tears
will follow you down?

I mourn many mornings
no lyrical musings left in me
over the hands that slipped from mine
into the mist, unnoticed.

I have reached, and shouted
and screamed my throat raw
but I remain unanswered
before all these closed doors

Never to return to me, never to find
my searching hand in the dark
holding hope this tender light
it's flickering fading in your shadow

How often will I break my heart for you,
fair spirits too turbid for this world?
How often will I chase you into the maze,
trying to guide you as we lose ourselves complete?

And if I am left alone, to face the same temptation,
gently calling me home,
Whose ears are craning for petals falling
at the end of the very same song?
Tonight I felt lost
Deep in thoughts
The angry world trying to start up a storm with innocence
Why do they love to
Cause uproars
Meddle and pick and pry
Love is not that easy
Love does not happen overnight
Love is tucked away
In a safer place
Sheilded from wicked ways
ruthless minds
Who play with truth
& shout out lies
Scorched earth
And the beams are in my eyes,
The light pulling it's warmth
Through my window
Like a coffin rectangle
And the chirping knocks
The vibes from an otherwise
Melancholy that makes
Me want to avenge my
Mother's death,

The early birds
Eaten by worms in the soiled
Veil of the repeat,
Slowly getting the point
Of no return and the ladies
Power walking to hell,
I pull the shades on the day
For a solitary confinement
And that's OK with me,
Cuz tomorrow,
Today,
Everyday the sun,
Lights blindingly.
You would think that new pain takes precedent over old pain

But the truth is that when new pain follows old pain, the weight of the whole tends to be a lot heavier than any individual wound.

A whole lifetime of accumulated pain.

If we have no coping mechanisms we just bear the weight.

The ever heavier weight.

Because let's be realistic, life is full of pain. And there is no one to turn to that doesn't have their own pain.

We can't say "Hey, do you mind holding this for a few hours? Or for a day? I'll pay you for babysitting it."

The truth is we don't want to give up the pain, to give it up means that we give up the immeasurable love we carry for the people we are mourning.

To give it up means that we never loved them enough. And we did. We do.

We love them so much we are willing to carry the pain for the rest of our lives. That is part of their legacy to us. The love, the memories.

After a while the pain is not so heart clenchingly hurtful.

We start to remember the laughter, the happy times. The loving times.

And we take those memories out and examine them. Smile and feel the lightness in our very soul.

We put the memories back and the heavy hurt doesn't seem so dark.

One of my my favorite quotes is  by Lewis Carroll
"I try to believe in as many as six impossible things before breakfast"

That always seemed like a good attitude to me.

The way the world is these days, it’s almost incomprehensible how anyone could have a closed mind.

It seems like most every day there’s a story in the news about one of our certainties being turned on its ear.

Maybe that’s what it means to be human, forever questioning our certainties.

One of my certainties is I will someday smile and outright laugh at the memory of my mom.

She was a funny, outrageous woman that made me laugh daily.

One day she said something so shockingly funny I threw myself across her bed laughing and banged my head on her wall.

Even that made me laugh harder.

She was a treat to talk to. A great artist, pianist and writer.

When my niece Ashley died, her granddaughter, I came home and went straight to her room.

We didn't say a word. I cried with my head on her lap for more than 2 hours. While she made soothing noises and cried with me.

The night she died I looked into her eyes for hours. The fear. The panic. I talked her home through it all.

I smiled while I cried and I made sure she knew she was safe. She was going home to be with loved ones.

I asked my siblings to come around to my side of the bed so she could see them and they couldn't. They just couldn't.

So I talked her home alone while they listened and cried.

I made sure every time she focused on my face I had a smile for her.

I told her to go. I reassured her and at the end gave her massive doses of medicine so she wouldn't hurt.

And I smiled until my cheeks hurt. While I kept talking her home.

I didn't want strangers touching her so out of 7 sisters only my youngest helped me bath and dress her in her favorite clothes.

I washed her waist long hair myself and did it in the long side braid she favored. I put the light makeup she liked on her face. She looked beautiful.

She was wonderful. She was my anchor, my soulmate, my best friend. She was my mother.
I can't believe she is not upstairs in her room waiting for me right now. I will miss her everyday for the rest of my life.
This was written at the same time I wrote the poem "Dying" my 22 year old niece died just a handful of months before my mom did. Last April. I am still working my way through the grieving process. Writing about it makes me feel better. I can pour the pain into my words
The moment you forget.
Mind wanders with regret.
Eyes blurred, lose focus.
“What’s my current purpose?”

Is spontaneous enough?
Chasing a dream, tough.
As a child we rushed,
what was all the fuss?

The lost moment finds.
The lost moment unwinds.
The lost moment reminds.
Messes with our minds.

In that moment there is clarity.
We connect with our reality.
Understand humanity.
Endless possibilities.
Test our comfortability.

A chance to breathe.
Rebirth and see.
Are we where
we want to be?

Take that lost moment,
to reset your focus.
To find yourself and
your new found purpose.
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