Leaving was more than I could bear, and coming back offered no resolve. This place, me, the salt water on my skin – how could I have gone when so much of me got stuck here, and so much of this place clung to my hopes, my promises and now my regrets?
A young couple, full of flirtatious spirit, catches my eye, so I watch them before I go (again). In this moment I can’t help but beg of life’s great interventions – Why did you take me from this place and this place from me?
I suppose we all have them – journeys and destinations we can’t shake. But we blink, and we kind of forget, because the forgetting helps us cope when the remembering hurts too much.
Drowned my pills,
and drank at will,
said my prayers,
cursed that hill,
clawed my way
to another day,
begged to go,
cried to stay.
Lost in the noise of people living and the chaos of the breathing, we forget ourselves – all the passions, all the believing that feeds the dreamer and kills her at the same time. #poetryinmotion #mywritings
I told you who I was,
but you never saw me.
I showed you my soul,
and you never heard me.
So I slipped away one day,
standing right before you.
And no one ever heard the
door close when love left.
“It’s a crown,” she boasted in front of a captive audience. “I found it in the ditch the other day after it rained. And you know the Nile flows through those waters and washes up stuff from the past. And on that day, it washed up none other than Cleopatra’s crown!”
As she began to pass it around the class, she cautioned, “Hold it gently! It’s old and priceless.”
The teacher interrupted in an authoritative voice, “Why that’s nothing but an old carburetor. It’s just junk!”
The children snickered.
Wounded, she tucked her crown back into her backpack. And forty years later, telling that story, she wonders what ever happened to her rare find and the great explorer who discovered it.
Sometimes I’m caught off guard when the thought of you hits me so hard, tugging at my memories of you, so rare and so few. You’re the one person I’ll never get over – no real closure ’til I get to hold you a little longer.
Merry Christmas, Faith!
They were a gift with rules, an ordinance to conform and convert. But the falling snow summoned me to come play. Restless and burdened with sure death, I pulled on my new boot straps ’til each heel was snuggly in place.
I didn’t have to look up to know you hovered over me, watching my every move. Your admonishments reached me loud and clear as every heavy breath of yours weighted down on my neck, condemning everything about me.
And I sat there shaking with defiance in my gut and fear embedded in my heart, knowing I would pay dearly for any act against the man who was determined to shape me into my better self and his better half.
But I surprised myself and wore those damn boots in the snow that day – and I’ve never looked back.