It's windy tonight. Not a cloud in sight. And the ever-glory of the mass blue sky was dotted once again with the friends of the sky. Guardian of my house, Orion, with his strong, bright 3-starred bow, burns steadily, as opposed to the Ursas of the north, with the bleak Polaris, its light a little faded due to the lights of the northern cityscapes.
I think of you in these circumstances. Whether you'd be looking at the sky as well, trying hard to find the connecting dots. Stay warm under this cool season, alright? I've yet to brush my teeth or even get my blanket and pillow, because I've decided to sleep under the stars tonight, and they're too beautiful for me to even pass a second without looking at them.
Just like how I think about you. My thoughts are still as the stars in the night sky, sometimes bleak and sometimes bold. I hope you never lose your way even if you feel like it. The Polaris will always be guiding you. My thoughts will always be guiding you. For you, I'll be constant as the stars above, so always know that you are loved.
Every third day of the third week in July for the last six years
I would crawl out onto the hot, black shingled roof of our white and gray two story shuttered house
and I would try to count the stars in the southern sky
The course grains of each shingle would burn deep gouges into my knees and hands as if each shingle was punishing me for sitting on them.
But I hadn't a care in the world
For I had a reason and a purpose to be there
You see, that third day was my day, that third week was my week..
It was all mine...the day I would lose myself into the universe
As I nestled into my favorite spot, I leaned against the hard wood window frame, not caring for a second how I long i sat there. At that pristine moment, I just began to count the stars
Each single star I counted, whether it be faded as the night or bright as the day, was surrounded by complete darkness. A pitch black of nothing.
Those were the lonely stars I saw and I breathed once again.
Each single star i counted, was all alone and afraid in the vast deepness of space with nothing to embrace them except for my eyes and my casual memories and I breathed once again.
This is my healing place. My escape from the life threatening complexities that invaded my inner being. I witnessed the thousands of morsels of light in the southern sky as if they were tiny demons millions of light years away, haunting and watching over me each and every night. For they can no longer touch me or break me apart. They will become the broken.
I have found my place of solace on top of that hot, black shingled roof of our white and gray shuttered house. Many peaceful nights I counted the stars, only to lose to count after I reached one hundred. My eyes would glaze over with an undue purpose of peace and I breathed once again as I started to count the stars all over again.
there's a roof outside my window.
not too high, not too steep.
whenever i lose myself in whatever I decide to call my nameless hell
(perhaps Depression, or Madness, but more likely both;
i've never been a fan of titles),
my toes find their way to the edge of that roof.
i did the same last night at 3 am.
except, something was different.
i was afraid this time.
i had spent all that time on the roof,
wondering if i was going to jump,
until one night i did the same,
hoping i wouldn't fall.
My eyes are drifting into deep closure
It's just the same
You'll dream of serenity and hope
Painting your thoughts into books
Sitting on the roof of your quiet home
Holding her hand as tight as my jean shorts
your imprint continues burning in my soul
we're not the same
I AM GRATEFUL---
for having my family
my five granddaughters, especially
they are safe and healthy
we have roof over our heads and
clothes to keep us warm
there is always food on our table...
I AM GRATEFUL, THAT ---
on each new day, i am able to
get up, alone...without much effort
can wash my face, brush my teeth,
clean my bathroom regularly
take a shower on my own
cook what i want to eat,
change the curtains in our house,
change my bedsheets without help,
as often as i want to...
I AM GRATEFUL, THAT I ---
still celebrated another birthday
was able to say THANK YOU!
will be with family and friends on Thanksgiving day
made scary decors for Halloween
decked our house with a tree and lanterns before December
hang stars, angels in corners and in between
am strong enough to put them all away when Christmas is over...
I AM GRATEFUL I AM STILL ABLE TO WITNESS
how a night of fireworks and celebrations
easily segues into a day of new beginnings...
I AM GRATEFUL THAT I CAN ---
write, share my thoughts, my moments,
look back to the past with a smile,
find contentment where i am now,
be with good friends, old and new,
look forward to my future,
wake up to each new day
A N O T H E R .
Thanksgiving must come with every breath
For we are showered with Blessings without end...
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
i think of kentucky when i think of love~
of who we were before
not because of him,
or what i what i thought was happening up above
i think about you standing there, in the library door
or about how intensely i stared at your floor when
i was working up the courage....
i think about how i missed him every single day
everything was grey
then you played your accordion
and it all went away
*kentucky has the greenest grass i've ever seen
i begged you away from the edge of the roof once.....
whiskey was heavy on your breath and
the world was heavy on your chest and
you sat next to me and
you didn't jump
i really thought you might....
it was one of the only times
i ever felt like a useful human being in this
whirling winding world of poetic energy
and compassionate synergy,
so.... if talking you away from edges of roofs,
if warmly burrowing in your truths,
makes me feel like a useful human being in this
whirling winding world of self-inflicted lethargy
and romantic anarchy,
I love how the setting is after rain; I can almost focus on the sound of my steps as if it is the only thing I need to worry about. dry, chapped lips from the cold breeze that has set in only allows a few whispered words to pass at a time.
droplets along the window blocks connect each thought as my fingertips connect each dot, allowing my mind to wander where it usually does not. the drops along the metal roof tell a story like a rambling poet agains the keys of a typewriter, uncertain of which drain will drain the pain away.