Sunday, April 19, 2015

Fast Forward

My mind wont shut up
My heart is pleading with it
but the thoughts just keep rolling out
Someone just pushed the fast forward button
on my life
and now the pace of my days
matches the breakneck
of my brain activity
What if I don’t have enough time
it says
I have so much to get done in such a short amount of time
and here you are….writing a poem, dumb ass!
it shouts
What if I make the wrong decision
it whispers
What if I cant go
I already know I cant go
What if she is disappointed in me
What if she needs me
and I am letting her down
What if I cant be there to hold her
What if I cannot bare not being there to hold her
What if I am too much to handle
What if I am too insecure
What if I am too confident
What if I am not interesting
What if I am trying too hard
What if I am annoying
What if I fail
What if I don’t have enough money
What if my truck breaks down
What if the river floods any more and all my stuff floats away
What if I am being ungrateful
What if it is too late
What if they are disappointed in me
What if they don’t understand me

They don’t understand me
I have spent the last 6 months alone
No one knows
I have no witnesses here
Only me
What about me?
They dont ask that question
Its not theirs to ask
Instead
they ask
What are you going to do
What about your future
Where are you going to go
What about a place to stay
What about your career
What about your finances
What about all that you have worked for
What about your reputation
What happens if you don’t have enough time
What happens if you don’t have enough money
What if I make the wrong decisions
What if I am too much to handle
What if I am too insecure
What if I am too confident
What if I am not interesting
What if I am trying too hard
What if I am annoying
What if I fail
What if I don’t have enough money
What if my truck breaks down
What if the river floods any more and all my stuff floats away
What if I am being ungrateful
What if it is too late
What if they are disappointed in me
What if they don’t understand me
What if I cant be with the one who understands me
What about my future
What about a place to stay
What about my career
What about my finances
What if I don’t have enough money
What about all that I have worked for
What about my reputation

Stop

Fuck my reputation
What about me?
I have spent the last 6 months alone
No one knows
I have no witnesses here
Only me
They don’t ask that question
Its not theirs to ask
It is mine
I have so much to get done in such a short amount of time
and here I am….writing a poem
Because I hurt
and it is the only way I know to soothe myself
The only question left to ask is…
what about me
The only person that needs to ask it…
is me

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

I know

When I was 13
I used to say
‘I know’
all the time
Drove my dad nuts
Maybe it was the eyerolling
or the long sighs
or the tongue smacking
which accompanied it
Coaxing the vein out
in his forehead
He was around my age
when I threw those words around
so carelessly
I now know
what he knew then
That I don't know shit
Certainly didn't when I was 13
and even less now at 37

One of the very few things
that I do know
is that the words
I know
can be two of the most
powerful words
in the English language

I know
can be a declarative statement
Whatever follows
holds the echoing
the ripple
the resonance
of defining who you are
Bringing waves
that wash away who you used to be
I know
can be a curtain
that when drawn aside
reveals what is understood
and what is not
filling the room with light
illuminating details that once hid in cast shadows
I know
can be clarifying
the meaning it claims to hold
is determined
by the difference
between
experience
and lack there of
coming into focus
through the lens of trying something different

Most importantly
I know
can be affectual
full of feeling
and being felt
I know
can be emphatic
locking each other's gaze
with silent nods
and outstretched hands
I know
can be sweetness
held between
the jaws of clenched teeth
and swallowed pride
I know
can be Surrender
the willingness
to let your heart break
under the weight
of what you know
and in the absence
of what you don't
I know
can be
the web
that gets untangled
with patient nimble fingers
waiting for the knots to loosen
tenderly pulling at the strands
silently studying
the woven patterns
to follow the path
back to where it started
the origins of who we are
I know
can be the thread
the thread that connects us
the thread that sews us
back together
the sutures that crisscross
back and forth
over the edges of our cracks
holding us together
I will hold you
through what you know
Please hold me
through what I don't
For it is only through this holding
that we truly get to know
anything at all
and the only thing worth knowing
is each other

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Death


I can feel Death 
hovering around me as of late
As the snow melts 
and the sun comes out
the carcasses of winter are revealed
one by one
I have always been able to feel Death
I was given an awareness 
at a very early age
of the ever present
possible impending 
As the end of this season approaches
As the snow slows it's accumulation
As the frost ceases invasion 
As the warmth blinks the sleep from it's eyes
a blurry image of a dying Gaul 
stubbornly insists on filling my view
Laying wounded at my feet
Pulling desperately on my legs
Trying to climb back up 
into the protective stance she has held for so long
I am afraid to let go of her hand 
which I have held for so long
afraid to stop leaning on the need for a body guard
afraid to let the armor fall around me
However, this battle is nearly over
This season of hibernation
that has lasted nearly all my life
has transformed in the womb of isolation
This tree
strong and tall
full of rings
has worked itself out of the ground 
roots exposed
ready to decompose
and become food for the newborn on its way
I do not need a night in shining armor anymore
Babies are soft
and vulnerable
and open
She will learn to walk and talk 
and discover the world brand new
Just 
as she is
baring the birthday suit of her soul
for everyone to see
broken or whole
whatever the case may be
For the dying Gaul is tired 
her job is done
and I shall lay her gently down
smooth the weary from her forehead 
softly close her eyes
and send her sweet dreams with a goodnight kiss
For she has earned this rest
she has earned this peace
yearning for transcendence
Death shall be a sweet release

Saturday, March 21, 2015

Lioness

If you want to have
the patience
the endurance
the persistence
the impervious grit
that it takes
to make it to your truly desired destination
then you have to feed your soul
If the Lioness is restless
pacing in the cage
you keep her in
then she must be let out
to wander the sanded ground
slip and weave through tall dry grasses
to envision the prey she is created to stalk
If she roars in your chest
again and again
until your arms ache
and your throat is sore
better perk your ears  
you best listen
because that means the lioness
is hungry
and you must feed her
You best listen
so you can decipher her language of pursuit 
an invaluable interpretation
for it may tell you what she is longing for
You best listen
and take note
of the hour
sun or moon
in which the growling starts
in which the howling stops
it is in your best interest to anticipate the frenzy of feeding time
You best listen
so you know what direction
the feline screams may be going to
or coming from
You best listen
so you can tell
which wise the thunder is moving
as it circles around the landscape
You best listen
so you can feel
how close it is getting
gage the quickness of approach
the elevating volume
the speed with which the intervals reduce
For if you fail to listen
to the lioness
If you do not pick up the intimation of her reverberation
lack the sensitive perception of her palette
If you neglect to learn the rhythms of the midnight hunting hour
disregard the patterns of the trails she is wearing through
the roar will temporarly, unexpectedly, mysteriously dissipate
only the rasping of desperate panting remains
Exhaustion has set in
Voracity will take over
diminishing patience
determining the inevitable
For if the soul is not nourished
if the appetite is not satisfied
then the lioness will redirect her gaze
twist back around
and the path leading to the prey
may very well
take her right back to you

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Monumentous

Monumentous events can be everyday moments
and everyday moments can be monumentous events
the first time your eyes met mine
was a monumentous event
I will always
vivdly
remember
exactly how you looked at me
how easily your soft hand slipped into mine
Darlin, I think that is when your heart slipped into mine
When we are together
every moment is momental
because no amount of moments is enough
When we are 443 miles apart
I close my eyes and I am instantly with you
When we are 40 miles apart
I cannot catch my breath
When we are 4 miles apart
my heart beat sends earthquake shakes
that rock my body back and forth
and ripple down each limb
When we are 4 feet apart
my skin vibrates and stands up to reach for you

When you are in my arms
I cannot tell where my ends and your begins
When I am in your arms
my thoughts relax into slow motion
The scent of your skin
makes me breathe you in
so deeply
so slowly
so completely
as if I have never smelled anything before
savoring every nuance to store
in my monumental memory
never to forget
When you are in my arms
the radiance of your heat makes me melt into you
makes me melt into me
letting go of any self conscious thoughts I may have had
For in those momental moments
I am not one person anymore
When I am in your arms
I can hear your voice through your chest
through my chest
Every inhale, every sigh, every murmur
seems to go through my skin
as if I do not even need ears
I hear everything you are saying
and everything you are not saying
Feeling no need to respond
only to listen to the sublime reverberation
When you are in my arms
I count the soft brushes of your eyelashes on my cheek
I watch the blues continuously change
Diving into the deep ocean
every single moment I get the chance
Kiss the lids when they are closed
every single moment I get the chance
When I am in your arms
your cheek softens into mine
your lips soften into mine
your muscles soften into mine
your skin softens into mine
my pulse races
my mynd fills with the momental moment
and my soul comes home
every single time

I long to lay next to you
fingers entwined
with no where to go
nothing to do
but count momental moments
I long to sit at the breakfast table
fingers entwined
coffee cups to lose count of
dishes to leave for later
I long to ride in the car
fingers entwined
waiting for a kiss at each red light
until we get lost
I long for every introduction
fingers entwined
standing proud next to you
meeting each pair of eyes
I long for every twinge of pain
fingers entwined
counting each difficult momental moment
as a gift of time that I get to be with you
I long for the deepest of sleeps
fingers entwined
legs entwined
waking to constellations
that trace across your shoulders
I long for the sound of you laughing
fingers entwined
the silence of you crying
fingers entwined
the sharp of your anger
fingers entwined
the still of your peace
fingers entwined
I long for every moment
I can imagine
I long for every moment
I cannot
I long for all the moments in between
For if every moment
is lived with this fullness
with this ease of knowing
with this natural union
with this reverence of presence
then monumentous events can be everyday moments
and everyday moments can be monumentous events

Monday, February 23, 2015

Whispers

When the world around you gets too loud
When the information taken in makes you feel too full
When everywhere starts to look like nowhere

Go back

and listen to the whispers

When voices suddenly turn into shouting
When opinions start to rapidly multiply
When there are too many feet on the path

Slow down

and listen to the whispers

When wanderlust gets too wild
When the forks in the road won't cease division
When the brush becomes too thick for your machete 

Stop walking, and for gods sake, stop hacking

and listen to the whispers

When history becomes too heavy
When good advice starts to make you feel crazy
When the sounds of another's story stifles you 

Hold still

and listen to the softest, smallest, sweetest whispers

Please don't misinterpret
I value experience
I value wisdom
I value clarity
I value the universal
I value shared understanding
I am learning to be vulnerable
I am learning to be honest
I am learning to take care of myself
and I am learning to return to myself


For, I am doing it yet again
Looking to the 
external 
for something 
that can only be found 
within
When my incessant search outside myself
for comfort 
for answers
for direction
for truth
for resolution
Leads me into the middle of nowhere
Leads me into a mindscape I don't know how to traverse
Leads me to the cliffs edge of my sanity 
Before I leap forward
I must step back
from the edge
for just a minute
I must place my hands upon my shoulders
Pull me gently onto solid ground
Slowly turn me around 
Take my face tenderly in both my hands
Cover my soft ears with my strong fingers
Close my eyes with soft kisses
Wrap my long arms around me
and sing to me

"Do you remember me"?
"Do you remember me"?
"Do you remember me"?

Whether I am right or wrong
does not matter
Whether I am good or bad 
does not matter
Whether I am smart or not
does not matter
Whether I am a pillar of reason and logic
or bat shit crazy
does not matter
I am all of those things and
I am none of those things
I just am
I know me
I trust me
All I need to do is listen
Always listen
Listen to the whispers
Do not forsake yourself
The whispers are there to help you
They ARE you
They always know what to do
They always know where to go
They always know the way home
and if I know the way home 
then maybe I can have the courage 
to turn back around
spread my wings 

and fly off the top of this mountain