Swales

Even this bottomless place is beautiful.

A swale of tears.

 

While I was in the shower

warmth

brought up sadness through my pores.

 

I am full up with grief over what got destroyed; whose buildings changed

so completely.

 

In the water

In the warmth

Sadness has its rightful place.  It belongs.

 

Steps to harmonious beauty are ugly and discordant.  So which is which?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Getting Hit On.

Getting hit on.

Pick up lines.

They do sound violent.

Most pick up lines do end up sounding like something a big scary person would say to another person before knocking them out  cold and carrying off their unconscious body to a place:

“Come here often”?

“Are you from Tennessee?  Cuz you’re the only ten I see”.

“Wanna be a star”?

They should be called pick up-and-carry lines.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tree

There are no words to describe how hard life is.  Even for those who have it fairly easy.  To be like a tree is now my highest aspiration.  Rooted in my body, no matter what.  Present in the moment, no matter what.  There is a strange comfort in the containment and the accepting.

Forgiveness is an act of Isolation

Humans are gregarious.

To forgive means to be alone with whatever happened.

Rage through the roof.  When I forgive you, it is me and bright white, red rage.  No more you to bash my powerless rage against.

Despair seeping up through the floorboards.  Only me to breath in the mold that may have started growing.

To forgive is divine because it means to be alone.  To work through the feelings.  The carnage.

Perdonare: To give completely; without reservation.  To allow.

I can barely handle that when it comes to birthday gifts. Let alone a lifetime of inner-emotional world environment.

I wonder if forgiving means I won’t ever feel hurt by it again.  I doubt that.  But maybe.  Maybe I gained understanding.

In my experience, understanding is the only phenomenon strong and flexible enough to get underneath and between the Why.

Forgiveness means solitude but it does not mean silence.  The ones who have been hurt speak words that everyone else desperately needs.  That must be forgiveness too.

The Real Thin Ice

At first the ice is thin.

And that is good.

Everything can still get through.

And the water underneath

still shocks and gasps you.

You still feel the real reason for your terror.  For your sadness and your shame.

It is good when the ice is thin.  Although the water hurts.

It is when the ice becomes thick

and no thing can break through anymore

It is when the ice is thick

and the drops skitter across the surface away and away from you

that is when it is dangerous.

When the water underneath

can no longer be felt

when there is no more shock and gasp at the pain

when the ice has become so thick that an endless avalanche

of made up reasons for the why and what and wherefore

become the focus

because the water underneath can no longer even be detected

that is when the real danger begins.

When the ice has thickened into numbness

and everything else must do; must be it

because no one can believe the coldness of the water anymore

and no one breaks through the ice anymore

to fall into the shock and gasp of the cold, brutal water

when the ice has thickened

so that the glare of it makes it look like your enemies are outside of your home

rather than inside

that is when the real danger, the real hatred begins.

Climate

Of all the worst miseries a depression can give

The grieving process denied

is the worst of the hells.

Can’t even talk.

 

 

To breathe into the body

and feel.

 

 

Grief likes to shudder its way through a body.

Grief likes to shudder its way through a life.

 

The ripples change everything.

Identity.  Focus.  Feeling.  Ability.  Senses.

 

 

 

If the ripples reverberate

reverberation.

If the ripples are stopped

climate change.

 

 

Toni Morrison talks to god

The most despised voices have to be heard before there is change.  In her book The Bluest Eye, Toni Morrison has a pedophile write a letter to god asking god how god could let things be the way they are.  The pedophile writes to god asking why god can’t do better.

We are not subjects of god.  We are gods partners.  Thank you Toni Morrison for writing the most despised voice up to god so that we can move some change.

Curiosity made the cat feel pain. Satisfaction brought her joy again.

Is your life your own?

Are your thoughts your own?

Is your body your own?

Are your breathes your own?

Do you do what you are supposed to do when you are supposed to do?  If so, what is it that tells you to do what when?  Whose voice?  Parents?  School?  Work?  Are you private moments your own?

You want to leave.  Run away.  Are there ever times where you want to stay behind and know?  Peer behind the curtain?  See what is actually left over after a storm has hit?

I stayed behind to wait out a hurricane once.  Almost everyone else was leaving in a panic.  I stayed behind along with some others and waited out the storm.  It was terrifying.  It took our electricity for a while.  The treasures that washed up on the beach afterward were amazing.  Unbelievable to any who had not stayed behind to go through the storm.

Can anyone be themselves, have their own life, if they are not curious about pain?

 

 

 

Personal Best

I went to the park this morning with my dog.  I had been feeling depressed and in a hurry with nowhere to go. As I was walking along a park trail with my dog, I noticed my friend’s mom sitting on a bench picking her nose.

She really had her finger up there.  The look on her face was (Im afraid there is no better descriptor) dumb.  She had her mouth open just a little bit and in that little bit a single tooth was visible.  My friend’s mom’s posture was slumped and leaning a little forward.

It was a reflective moment for me because I remembered being very afraid that my friend’s mom didn’t like me in high school.  I remember the feeling of intimidation that sloshed in my stomach.  And then to see my friend’s mom, sitting on the park bench with a bent finger hooked into her nose and her mouth open with only 1 tooth visible and her posture very slouched, well, it all made me realize that I am way more afraid of people than I need to be.