Parallel tables down this neighbourhood street
I can see some of them from distant windows
One is vacated
One is full, people buzzing about
Hot food coming out of the kitchen onto the table
Bubbling, boiling soups, freshly tossed salads
Glasses brimming with new stories
Then, to the right, a person
Sits at their table alone,
One dim light, eating from a bowl
My guess is cereal.
Stories, stories, stories
Troubling questions
Awkward silence
He’s meeting the parents today
So, he fidgets and taps his feet
She’s telling them she got into college
He just got home from his best friend’s funeral
The other house is dark,
They always have dinner at six
But today, the lights are off
Trip? No.
They’re saying goodbye to grandma in the hospital
That couple in the duplex
I think it’s their delivery date
There’s that one house,
Everyone eats at a different time
Mom, daughter, and second daughter rotate washing dishes
but the older one just got married
it looks like they are still settling into the newfound gaps
her brother left today
a house that used to be loud and crowded
now, two empty nesters
they never eat at the table anymore
they put on the TV
with their plates
because the couch is a smaller space to fill
than these dining room tables

I never noticed before
Just how much I like control.
Structure, routine.
These things keep me grounded.

I was always made to go with the flow;
The rules, never my own.
When I flip the pages and read my thoughts
I notice I never liked being torn away from focus.

I loved to sit and work on my passions,
Never cringing at myself for being interested.
I think I learned to dislike my interests
Because others didn't and that was cringe to them.

I was made to follow but told to be a leader,
I'll never know which is better or why.
I don't understand the logic or matter,
Can't everyone decide what's important?

For my parents it was tradition,
What was taught to them
and likely the people before,
The question is where does blame lie?

I would be ripped away from creativity,
To be forced to finish my plate and more,
Promised desserts I never received,
To instead dissociate and remain unfree.

I think this was so damaging to me.

My mom took me back through her thoughts,
Shared stories of how troublesome I was,
She said I always had issues
with being torn away from my tasks.

Tells me it wasn't serious,
But she and others beat my ***.
I have to wonder how I felt then.
I was only three and hurt so often.

I decided to skip the yelling eventually,
I'd go to the corner for thinking differently.
Until I would turn and say okay to my mom,
Who'd laugh at me for being upset.

It's interesting how she doesn't see it.
I have always had a hard time with transitions,
Child, teenager, adult, it's been hard.
And I am going to learn why.

headed west
different from the rest
left behind
things on my mind
dreams to pursue
though I suppose so do you

i go to a mind
sometimes that is different
here i am again

Liberty bell has rung for the
longest time friends come and go
All the time why can't it be
     The best news*
I ever heard in a long time
Sleepless nights at bedtime
Sunset opens worth waiting for
     Healing- time -heart

We are on Prime- Time
  Long healing coffee
Anytime peace of mind

Waiting for the right time
How come its more the wrong time
We all work fulltime long hours
Hits you in a whole lifetime
Nothing heals I love my trees
Maple cherry blossom wild flowers
Having strong bold coffee in
the Eiffel Towers  


The train is coming but
the wrong one
All alone holding time
With your coffee cup
Please stop to think
Stirring my coffee
Long wait sometimes life stinks
 
Cell phones and so many links

Long sip- my- neck- out
 Amazon jungle long time -out  
      Long night-out
 
   Long wait hooked like a bait
Please God! I cannot wait
     
      *        *        *        *        *

Long sip Villa- man dressed Vet
He stuck his neck out to her
mind and body set

you do not get better
and stay the same what i do
is different now

i stood in my new flat today
counting the spins the fan
made in its centre.
an americanism, too out of body
for me to keep an eye on.
what now?
but to wait till the inertion sickness
crawls its way from the soles up to oesophagus.

tilt back till back flat against the black flat floor.
(i hated that sentence but it needed some air.)
wondering if i can melt beneath the new money wood,
can i stand upside down,
ankles halo’d in my space and my head in the neighbours.

the hallway to the bedroom where he sleeps a little more soundly
now i’m out the bed,
dares me to leave him alone.
“you’ve clawed this distance out” i murmur back.
“i can trace it in the skirting boards.”

sitting up i go to close the window
and lock it, unlock it and smile at the little piece of freedom
i can’t ever give back.

In shadows cast, I stand alone
An outcast in a world unknown
Misunderstood, a soul apart
I bear the weight of my wounded heart.

In crowded rooms, I fade away
An echo lost in the disarray.
Invisible threads, they pass me by
A silent tear, my whispered cry.

Yet, in my solitude, I find solace
Embracing uniqueness with fierce promise
For within these depths, a light will shine
A beacon of truth, no longer confined.

Though different paths, we all may tread
I'll wear my outcast cloak with grace, instead
For it's in the margins where I find my might
A symphony of colors, painting my plight.

So let me wander, let me roam
An outcast's spirit, forever my home
For it's in this journey, unbound and free
I embrace my truth and claim my destiny