Resolutions are empty words without action being taken.
And only time can reveal if I remain true to my chosen path for 2015.
My granddaughter just turned sixteen on December 31st.
I cannot even remember what resolutions I made each year.
I want there to be a difference this year.
My chosen word, my resolution is ACTION.

Goodbye year of the Horse.
Hello year of the sheep.

the tides ebb and flow,
just as the love and the loss
I have gotten to know.
the gentle undercurrents drift me away,
leaving behind but a message in a  blood stained bottle
which will forever stay.

the arid breeze alifts me
oh so swiftly
allowing me to rise and flutter
along with the haunting echoes of explorers lost at sea
whom discretely mutter
their undiscovered truths
which will forever be.

a mist of adventure and wonder
combined with subtle hints of salt
trails behind me.
like a shattering cry for help
in an empty, foreign sea.
oh how I wish you could come.
please come, come with me.

you are my muse,
you are my scarlet stained sky at dawn.
the mockingbird that pecks melodious blues,
about why she is forever gone.
You are my breaths,
you are my forever waning moon.
my lunar love,
the tsunami who withstands
my unbearable monsoon.


the sea is but a pool of tears
cried by the lonely , and the morning dew.
you give the ocean competition,
a reason to stay blue.
take me away-
I want to go with you.


teach me how to breathe
within rhythm of the rhapsody
of the measureless sea.


some sway with the wind
I choose to fight the tides
show me where the winds go
when they clash side by side.
never ever forget
what it's like to feel alive

When mom was dying,
she felt like everything
she'd worked for
was gone.

She showed me Life
as Its steward
and Death
as Life's reward.

How to lean into
the unknowable
whether I want to
or not.

That our deeds,
carved meticulously into
the bedrock of Forever,
are immortal.

It becomes clearer
that our work
is not for us,
but for It.

This life
is service;
only what we give
is truly ours.

Ashen faced, slumped there,
Clutching a crumpled
Brown telegram
No words she uttered
No tears, fell from those brown eyes
The words on the paper
Lodged in her throat
K I A
Blocking a silent scream of anguish.
She felt her fingers open,
The impersonal note dropping to
The cold stone floor, making no noise
To disturb the silent cry locked within her.
........
In the years and decades that follow
All that she could remember
Was the dreadful silence, of
The painful scream locked within her,
On the day she lost her sweetheart.

I have a friend
who is in a state of
constant action.
Whether it is
talking
or walking
or kissing
or smoking,
she is doing.

I never understood why,
never understood how she could
always be bored
when things slowed down,
never understood why
silence wasn't peaceful to her,
until now.

When there are demons in your head
that whisper into the empty spaces,
you look for other sounds to drown them out;
you look for something
-anything, really-
that gives you something to think about
other than the aching in your chest.

But soon it becomes less of a habit
and more of a necessity.
You start getting desperate,
calling friends at 2am,
sneaking out to walk to the park
because at least you're not
trapped in your ******* room,
and with desperation comes regret.

You start doing things you're not proud of
but at least the demons were quiet
while you were doing it
so you do more to
forget about that regret
and so on.

And it works for a while.
But the demons will creep back in,
hiding between teeth
and in ash
and under beds,
until eventually
there is no where left
for you to run.

Promising words not
Followed by action is like
*** without the attraction-
******* useless.

Claim freedom from innermost fears
Shackles, which binds the heart to tears
Mind’s boundaries keep you in confines
Courage is beyond, and your act defines

Her eyes slowly lifted,  she squinted at the light practically burning her eyes.  There were shapes,  human shapes, surrounding her but she couldn't make out the faces. Then within her line of sight a fist comes hurling towards her face, connecting with her jaw and giving her whiplash on top of the large bruise that was surely already forming.  

All of sudden there was shouting and bright lights coming from every direction, gun shots blazing through the dimly lit room. A man shouted her name, she couldn't tell where it came from or who said it but they certainly said Clara.  She scanned the room, bodies were steadily dropping,  men screaming like babies,  suddenly the ropes that tied her hands were being undone.

"We've got you ma'am" said a familiar voice from the shadows.  

As quickly as it all began she was being carried through a dark hallway in strong arms. Slowly all the lights faded to nothing and she could no longer even hear her own breath.