Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down
And broke his crown
And Jill collected the life insurance
And is now a rich ***** with plumbing!

For as long as I can remember, I've heard the whispers. The silent 'but's, the sidelong sighs, and the backhanded compliments that go in smooth and rip out ragged.
         I believe everyone has undeniable self-truths. One of my truths is that I am fat. It took me twenty years to come to the conclusion that this truth was not something to be ashamed or afraid of. Unfortunately, my mother doesn't agree.
         It's not wholly her fault; she was raised to be ashamed of her body and the bodies of women in general. We were taught that tolerance equals love but not necessarily acceptance. My body was something to tolerate. I loved my body in the way I loved my pesky little brother, mostly because I was told I must.
         My mother's body language whispered to my pre-teen insecurities, "You're beautiful...but", or "I'm not saying you have to lose weight...but", or "You're perfect the way God made you, I just wish that...". She taught me to be ashamed and afraid of the way my body was developing, "I wish you hadn't filled out so fast, that you wouldn't wear that shirt because it brings attention to the fact that you have the chest of a twenty something at thirteen." "That skirt shows too much skin and that shirt was cut too low, don't wear a tank top because the boys will think of you as **** first and intelligent second."
         There's nothing wrong with being the fat smart girl, although I have noticed that it's never 'smart fat girl' because being fat is evidently more important than intelligence. Being fat isn't bad. Being smart is a super good thing. The problem arises when the fat smart girl is taught that she must whisper. When you don't tell that girl that being beautiful has nothing to do with what others think of you and that she is absolutely allowed to have an opinion of her own, she won't find her voice until she can't hear yours anymore.
         I have whispered all my life. I don't wear brightly colored nail polish so that you won't notice that my hands stutter. I whisper with my body language. I whispered "no" when he went too far. I whispered when I wanted to scream.
         And I wondered why no one ever heard me.

I am torn

Between the missing and the hurting

The ache you left is still hollow and

I don’t know if time actually heals all wounds or if it just fills them

With one part pretending and seven parts regret and

The mountain of words that is rotting in my belly

Just waiting to erupt from my tired throat

I am torn

Between my heart and my mind

If I don't cage up my thoughts

All they do is wander back to you

My skin tells me that you will be back soon

But this skin has never touched you

It’s been too long

I have since scrubbed you out of my pores and

Washed you away from my sheets

Taken you down from my shelves and

Tucked you away from the light

But when I close my eyes at night they remember

The way your voice tasted when you laughed

I am torn

Between love and resentment

Sappy is sticking to me like a band-aid and

I’m too chicken to rip it off

I’m too stubborn to let myself forget because

If I forget that we existed,

If you never hold my eyes again,

If I let you slip through the cracks,

What will I have

Then

It is a question that I won’t let myself answer

Consider this

Time heals all

Wounds but in the healing

Wounds

Today
The world is gray again
Today
The sun hides its face
And the windows cry for sadness
Today
The hills are blue with cold
Today
The roof, cloaked in snow,
Melts into the wool white sky
And today
Y hoy
Et aujourd'hui

Yesterday
The world was bright
Yesterday
The sun shone merrily
And the windows glinted and winked in its light
Yesterday
The hills sparkled like a fish's scales
Yesterday
The blue of the sky was all I could see
And yesterday
Y ayer
Et hier

But tomorrow?
Who knows but God?
Not I. Not thou.
Tomorrow
Manana
Demain

I'm just another one of your
Misfits. I am
UNpopular. I am
UNcool. I am
UNconventional and that
Makes me scary.
Can't handle my
Opinions. Can't
Accept that I am
Content with myself
Just as I am. Can't
Understand why I
Don't worry about
Tomorrow. Can't
Explain why, even though
I am dragged down,
I keep getting up to try again. Can't
Let me get too close
Because I must have some disease. Can't
Shove me into
Your perfect boxes because I
Can't
Be
Contained. Because He is
UNrivaled. He is
UNsurpassed. He is
UNdefeated. And I am
UNalone.
Let's get
**UN'd.

If these are
The last words
Then let them be said.
One smile is worth
One thousand tears
And
Two ears are worth
Two thousand words
And
One heart
Plus
One heart
Is
Worth two souls' tears,
Two souls' words, and
(Most of all) two souls' breath
For two hearts beating.
And
My heart beats
To care
For your heart
As two souls whisper,
"Con carino. . . we live
A l'amour. . . we breathe
With love. . . we sing."

I've always wanted to be
Awakened.
Maybe even by a
Knight in shining armor or a
Handsome Prince in disguise.
But here I am,
Sleeping,
Curled around
My bruised and bleeding soul.
The tower walls
Are impossibly high
Carefully built by
My own broken hands
So that
No adventurer, however brave
No knight, however bold
No prince, however cunning
Can scale the thorn cover heights
And wake me.
My breath,
Slow and even.
My heart,
Scarred and beaten.
My soul,
Locked and sleeping.
Oh,
Slumber on
Sweet sweet, sleeper,
For no one will
Wake you when
Life
Is over.

Under the blue, blue sky
In a meadow of green
Sat an old oak tree
And he sat and he sighed
And he longed for the sea.
"Surely the wind and
the waves," thought he,
"would bring back some much
needed youth to my leaves."
So he sighed
And he sat
And he longed to escape
The blue, blue sky
And the meadow of green.

                  Along came the Carpenter
                  To the meadow of green,
                  "What a fine piece of oak!
                  Why, there's enough for a table
                  and perhaps even a swing."
                  So, the Carpenter cut down the old tree
                  And when he had fashioned
                  The beautiful things,
                  He set them outside on a
                  White sandy beach.

"Oh, me! Oh, my!" wept
The old oak tree,
"I've come to the sea
but the sea hates me!
She whips me with sand
and she blasts me with surf--
To think that I wished
to come to this horrible place!"
And he groaned
And he sighed
And he wished for the
Blue, blue sky and the
Meadow of green.
But mostly he wished
To just be a tree.

When you see the sun
Rising over the trees...
Do you ever feel like crying?
When the snow is falling down. Down.
Down to cover the frozen ground...
Do you ever feel like smiling?
When you see the first star
Appear in the indigo night...
Do you ever feel like flying?
When thunder crashes and rain
Pours out of the sky...
Do you ever feel like dancing?
When the bluest sky you've ever seen
Peeks out from beneath the clouds...
Do you ever feel like laughing?
When the trees reach out
To catch the birds of the sky...
Do you ever feel like falling?
When the leaves flutter down from above
And paint the grass with red and orange...
Do you ever feel like twirling?
When flowers bloom with the morning dew
And shine their colors bright...
Do you ever feel like believing?
When the wind tosses the waves
And plays with your hair...
Do you ever feel like singing?
When the sun sets behind the hills
And the day comes to an end...
Do you ever feel like crying?

It begins
With one breath
And ends
With one hundred
One hundred hearts
Beating as one
Thunder in our blood
Lightning in our lungs
Notes fell like rain
Down
    Down
        Down
Onto our parched and thirsty tongues

Feast your ears
Close your eyes
And let bass notes hum through you
As the sopranos soar above
Let the altos
Catch your heart and squeeze
Just a little
Just a little
As the tenors serenade you

Come and join us, friend,
Come and dance with us!
Drink with us
Of Melody
And be quenched
By Harmony
Let your heart be freed
Fly high, oh soul!
Soak up our joy, friend,
Let us lift you up and then
Gently
So gently
Set you down
With a whisper
With a prayer

With one breath
One hundred souls
S i g h
And, so, they sleep
To wait for the rain
To come again

It has been two months

And more

Since I moved my mouth around

Your name

It clanked on my ears

And it

Tasted rusty on my tongue

Funny

How one syllable

Is so

Hard to think about saying

I turn to you in suffering
I turn to you in pain
But once the road is smooth again
I simply turn away.
How, I ask, does this happen?
Why am I so weak?
The answer is such that I hide my face in shame.
But you take my hand again
And brush my tears away.
You remind me that you're so much
Bigger than anything I fear...
And since I fear my own heart
And you're still there
I know you speak the truth.

You never leave me
And I know you'll never fail me
I admit, sometimes I stumble
But I'm convinced somehow you knew
That all this time I was gonna
Come running back to you.

I could ask how,
But I know I'll never understand.
I could ask why you'd do all this
Even if I was the only one...
But this is just so beautiful
Why ruin it with doubt?
So, I laugh and come running back to you.

I know I'm far from perfect
I know it's hard to change
But I also know your promise
And I've memorized your love...
So even though I wander
And though I'm blinded by the pain.
No matter what happens
I'll always come running back to you.

In a minute!
I promise
In a minute I'll
Log off
Shut down
I really will...
In a minute
I'll stand up
I'll stop thinking about you
I'll stop feeling sorry for myself
I'll return from the Land of What Might Have Been
(Because it's not softening the pain I feel
When Reality sets back in)
I'll forget nothing happened
I'll pretend I'm over it
I'll stop caring
I'll stop wanting
I'll quit being a wet blanket
I'll steal my heart back from you
In a minute?
I'll still be alone.
Another minute
Going. . .
Going. . .
Gone.

The painted bird
All brilliant golds
And shimmering red, green, blue
Lived inside a gilded cage
Drinking up any glimpse
Of sunshine
Of blue sky
Of outside.
Pining
Wishing
Longing
To fly amongst
The pillow soft clouds
To feel the breeze
Whisper over wings
That had never
Beat freely since Time began.
The painted bird
Despaired
Abandoned Hope
And resigned itself to death
Without ever really
Knowing life.
Now, the painted bird
Sings
One last
Song
And with it's dying breath
The painted bird
Flies
Into the blue sky
It always longed for

I am
Wearing the shirt you let me
Steal from you
(Probably just for one
Night. But, gosh, what
Must your mother think?)

I am
Breathing in the scent
Of your skin
(Why is your smell so
Comforting? So
Familiar?)

I am
Warm and cozy in this
Red shirt's long sleeves
(A little too long for me
But who am I
To be complaining?)

I am
Surrounded by your shirt
And it feels like your arms are wrapped around me
(I find myself
Craving your hugs sometimes... it's like
I'm addicted to your strong arms. I think I am.)

I am
Having trouble getting to sleep because
Not even my dreams are safe from your face
(I don't know what's
Gotten into me! It's as if
You've permeated my skin. Permeated me.)

I am
Being. Here. Now.
Breathing.
(Maybe if I inhale your
Warm smell enough you'll
Just become a permanent part of me)

I am
Seriously considering never
Ever giving this shirt back...
(Because darned if it doesn't
Make my heart feel
Fit to burst!)

I am
. . .
Happy :)

Black inside
But no one can know
Because black is unacceptable.
So I paint myself with bright colors
Sunny Yellows
Grassy Greens
Rosy Reds
Sky Blues
I am a mirror
I feel what you are feeling
Or is that just how it seems?
Sometimes I can't tell.
WHO AM I?
And sometimes? a crack
Appears in my painted shell
And black leaks through
Smearing the colors that you want to see.
But when you see the black
You are confused,
Don't quite know what to do.
So I found out
That which I wish wasn't true;
People don't want to look at blackness.
So, maybe if I slather enough color on the outside
The brightness will start to bleed through
To my insides too...

Crimson beats
Against alabaster bars
Bursting
With a life song
Of joy and blue skies
Of grief and thunder
But never flying from the cage
Sings without ceasing
Until death knocks
And with silver key and gentle hand
Removes it from its house
On the cold rocks
Crimson waits
Until
Perhaps
It sings again

Dusk.

A chilling wind.

A cry breaks the silence

Of an empty neighborhood.

Longing bleeds in the air

Hanging like a cloud overhead.

One word is all that is said,

One word that meant...

"Where are you? Come back

Home to me... I miss you.

I'm so Lonely. Where did you

Go? ... "

One word!

A name. No matter which.

Just your someone, gone.

Just your darling one, missing.

Just you.

Lost.

Alone.

Are you scared?

Come back home!

It's chilly outside.

Can't you hear the wind whistling?

Dusk has fallen...

Come back home.

Tonight I sing a
Discordant harmony
To my soul's melody
Nothing sits nicely
No word seems
Just. Right.
Can I hold out my hand
And find another reaching?
Could I hear a different
Melody than my own
If I really
Try?

I feel
As if
My lungs are filling
With heavier air
Than before.
I feel
As if
My heart beats
Slower
s  l  o  w  e  r
Every moment
I think about
This past
This . . . time
That is behind me
But still surrounding my soul.
Not bad
But not good.
I want. . .
I need. . .
I do want to say
Something.
Anything.
But the words
Are halting and stumbling
So
As always
I'll say
Nothing
Whatsoever.

Breathe
In
Out
Hold on tightly
Don't let me go
Breathe
Slow
S l o w
Slip beneath
The starlit sky
Greet Orion
With your eyes
To sleep
I send you
To sleep
Perchance to dream
S l o w
Slow
Breathe
Don't let me go
Hold on tightly
Out
In
Breathe