This is My Forties

 I can tell I haven't written in awhile because it feels awkward. My sentences are clunky and my vocabulary is pediatric  haha... I like how I just drove my point home. I haven't written a poem in forever. Let's see if one will magically come to the surface as I tap the keys. Time is ridiculous It tells me I have waited forever, Then comforts me about my glacial speed of change. Time is bipolar It loves me and then hates me It can't seem to decide how to treat me From one of its personal increments to the next Time owns me Time controls me It's abusive or friendly depending on its mood Time heals all wounds. I live my life by Time Time knows this and uses it to its advantage Time is a sonofabitch and a savior It steals my vacations and the youth of my children It leaves me hours of work, days of grief, years of sadness I just need Time .

Some days he walks away And anything that felt good before Turns to shit at the door Unfairly canceled out by Something That actually means Nothing My body won't agree My body feels betrayed By his responsibility ...................................... to leave me "He has to leave" I tell it "He'll be back" "He'll be the same" She disagrees Completely In my temples and behind my eyes I feel those saline pools Gathering for an appearance "STOP" my mind scolds "Shut that damn door" My body is in disbelief She's in desperate need She feels the sting of loneliness For 38 months All at once Like Ms Oliver told us The soft animal of my body Doesn't separate causes from effects A broken bone is broken nonetheless Biology is reactive and unreasonable It's Pavlovian It's conditioned to be what it's trained to be Through experience It makes no sense She feels the same as she...

When I put this pen to paper I become brave I acknowledge that creativity in me and let it speak And it's loud .  And it's free . It's stared at in public It's the type that's condemned for tattoos and rebellion She's unapologetic and naked in a field Screaming and dancing with the monarchs Running from both the Church and the Nazis Towards honest love She's wild and hated and loved more than any other She's assassinated on stage for Speaking up, speaking out Loving freely, having a dream Seeing more clearly, making love not war Chased down and caged for believing in Who's Not giving up or giving in She never wins But the point is the fight And she fights to the end What kid of existence is it? To be on a platform Where you're taunted by most, and lauded by others The Martyr and the Poet are lovers

My suffering is justice Makes sense Brings balance In this place that takes heroes And leaves enemies in palaces I'm left to wonder what "hero" is If honor is real If justice is swift Or... what if We're all out of control There's nothing we can do To right or to wrong No weak No strong IS... with no value Added to one over another Can this be it? NO I'm meant to suffer There's order Decisions, control Right side, wrong side Heaven and hell There's better than There's greater than There's evil and good There's purpose to pain Gravity to gravity A good fight A moral stand I must be right But... Trista And Rock And Dan NO My suffering is justice Makes sense Brings balance In this place that takes heroes And leaves enemies in palaces

Someone warned me not to light up because I'm liable to get sniped Light makes you a target to the enemy They told me it was too bright Keep it to yourself Be humble Don't draw attention Tone it down so they don't get jealous What's the point of light If not to shine Light shines for all, not just the bearer It spreads into darkness and uncloaks all its secrets It doesn't discriminate, it flows from all angles It's not meant for just one Jealousy isn't my responsibility Shining is I am a light

You never see the lonely They hide in plain sight The floor below in Boyden With the tables packed and loud Hovering above, playing their Symphonies of belonging. The lonely sit among the statues The cold and silent stone The unwanted doppelgangers of Rome Below the echo of laughs like thunder Muffled conversations gather like clouds And rain down An added reminder That there's nothing here Nothing but the lonely As those who belong Collect their stories on Olympus Here I am Non-traditional Forgotten and old.

Emotion overwhelmed me suddenly, While eating on a bench by the sea. There next to me was a heron Standing proudly While eating on a rock by the sea. He was me. My connection restored my peace. The waves are me The sand is me We move We stay We exist We change... I could feel the past in me The Natives fishing by the sea I could feel the future before me Time was gone because Time is wrong We exist eternally

It's not the going that does it Not the performance Or the gulping down painful flexes of heart and throat That foreshadow my future. It's not the interaction that does it I fare well in those. I'm witty and funny, respectful and endearing It's the after that does it When I'm alone and still And can finally feel And the reel hits rewind And I see myself Exaggerated Awkward and out of place Tripping on words Misinterpreting, interrupting, sweating Acting a fool Never shutting up And I hate this tape But it's already made I hit rewind And I hit play Rewind and play... can't Rewind and play... stop But, no it's not the them  that does it, It's always been me. Wrongfully assuming I can see how they see.

What would happen if I wrote Just sat here and let the ink flow. Shapes of letters becoming words on pages... What would be said? What's in my head? "Be brave" she said Again?! What's so brave about this? Impermanence Why when thinking of life's shortness Do I yield to fear and not Fearlessness Minimize, minimal, temporary, temporal Time is brief, short, struts and frets It should be empowering to realize it But I can't I see time as a death sentence, My life as a struggle to overcome myself. I want to be liberated from the responsibility Of becoming worthwhile in the blink of an eye. Who is this who owns me? The biggest bullies are within. "Be brave" she said So I publish it.

Just wrote this before a very difficult session of repeating over and over again out loud "I acknowledge that I failed" -breathe- "I forgive myself for failing" -breathe- ... and I had to do it until the 2nd part stopped crushing my chest and making me cry.  Took some time.  Many many breaths.  Why share this?  Because we've all been there and it's not something to be ashamed about or hide.  I wanted to share how I get through those moments.  Maybe you can try it too and it will do the same.  Now my heart feels better, my chest isn't tight.  Now I can breathe.  Will I have to do it again soon?  Maybe.  Sometimes it takes more than once before the full effect of all that anger and negativity is really out of me... before I can forgive myself for being weak.  Anyway, here it is. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Love it All" Without my...

I wrote these some time ago for myself and never planned to share them, but I keep getting signs that I'm supposed to do just that.  They aren't great.  They aren't my best, but I needed to write them to help with the loneliness of dealing with loved ones with mental health issues.  Two out of the many many I've written over the years.  I think a lot of the times when I've felt overwhelmed it's my "inner child" that comes out so anything I write is simplistic and clumsy, but still me.  She wants to be heard!  I'm done feeling embarrassed by the writing.  And... it's good therapy. So, to whoever is out there reading I hope you get something out of these.  You aren't alone.  You aren't crazy for still being here.  You are amazing.   They are getting better.  You are NOT completely screwing everything up.  Even if they can't acknowledge it at times, you are appreciated.  They love you and need you.  Keep fighting...

"Learn... Change" No matter how much you know How well you eat How safe you are How aware you become There is chaos And it will come It will swallow you up Erase you Drain you It will take your feet And force you to your knees And remind you of the truth You have no control We can understand every law But we can't stop gravity We can cure an illness But we still get sick The one pure truth Is that control is an illusion A delusion we all suffer We're just managing our symptoms While learning to recover Chaos is at the heart of change Impossible to avoid Prepare for the storm because it is wise But remember Preparation is not protection It's just how we survive Be ready for the chaos Develop the tools to recover But remember to embrace the lessons All chaos has to offer The point is to learn The point is to change It's not a punishment It just is It's not personal It just exists You don't fall because gr...

Josh has been gone a lot and I keep telling myself it's silly to be sad.  He's just right over in Virginia, it's only for a week or two.  We've done this for far longer.  Stop it.  Stop it.  Stop it.  So, I started getting depressed and I tend to binge watch reality TV when that happens.  Hoarders sucked me in this time.  Then suddenly I realized parallels.  I have turned some of my emotions into hoarders.  I might not have walls of trash everywhere, but I have a million excuses why I won't allow myself to be sad or why I should be afraid of something or not trust someone.  Why I need to keep control.  It's all happening in my mind.  "This is still good, I can't throw it out... I had plans for it"... and it just hit me like a flash (while I was in the tub, of course).  So I wrote about what I felt.  Then I stopped thinking myself out of it and let myself be sad and cry about Josh being gone.  I feel much mu...

July 22, 2015 Trying to describe what god is to me is like Trying to remember a dream the moment I awaken The harder I try, the more it fades Until I find the balance between conscious and not Just read the emotions and the glimpses Without active thought Then some comes back to me Enough to understand the message Or it's like When a smell brings on a memory It's never one thing specifically It's the concept of it, the feelings it contained I smell and remember the summer of 1992 Grandma's kitchen in Warren My Dad on a Sunday My Mom's house at Christmas I just have to let it wash over me It's instant and all-consuming It doesn't run slow like a movie And it's only mine That's how god feels to me It's that glimpse, that memory So deeply profound and personal From the innermost folds of my mind And I can't begin to convey its worth God isn't an individual or an entity for me It's an experience, too big to...

Taking credit for my art Would be like claiming control over my height I just have it, so I do it You see The positive aspects, I brush aside Give them over to chance, god, circumstance The negative ones, though, they're all mine I clutch onto them like an addict My drugs Obsessing over the parts of me I despise Imagining control over their creation and demise I cannot see my value today I struggle to un-focus my eyes To see me as a whole Not just the parts that are broken Hanging Dragging Scraping Festering As I try to run from them If I would just pick them up Accept them as they are I could find a way to carry them on To keep moving To  allow their added weight       to strengthen me God help me

07/11/15 I used to relish my pain Displayed it like a prize Framed it, laminated it Showed it to everyone Told its story Like it was my child It defined me It excused me It kept me hidden And blameless I was proud of it Like it made me special Thought it was conquered Through experiencing it This is never the case So it made me sick Eventually I saw I took it down from my walls And am healing... but... Sometimes I miss... it's just It's hard to quit

I want to write words that can sing Carry you off in their meaning Or ones that sit in your gut like gravel Grinding at your core until you can finally Understand I want words that can paint the perfect picture Draw metaphors that transport you into another's shoes The geese, the path less taken, the caged bird I want to pull you in close like we're sharing a secret just you and me quietly gently effortlessly whisper That one perfect thing that awakens you The flame The seed That's what I want my words to be. I want to find words that attach to your heart And make it pound      and ache        and skip I want to write words that can finally fill That empty space You hadn't known was there in the first place I want to confuse you with Hidden Me an in G Send you h----u....n-t---ing M-a-k-e y-o-u slow down and t-h-i-n-k About what you're avoiding. I want words that have exceptional power Grand, rushing, t...

5/22/2015 It's not just a haircut It's a promise to myself It's a release It's me allowing ME To show myself It's adopting the attitude Of the confident, the proud The artists The lesbians The black women The feminists The punk rockers All the defiant women Who say "we know you don't accept us But, we accept us And that's all that matters". I've admired them for 19 years I am these women It's more than a haircut It's a promise to myself To stop being a victim Stop hiding within myself To unapologetically And openly And honestly Live MY life Without limits placed by others Without pressures enforced by others It's about me letting ME speak And live And be And it scares the shit out of me But, I'm ready I can't wait to be free Be the badass I want to be I can do it It's always been in me.

5/8/2015 I missed the feel of it I missed the look of my own handwriting Creeping over the page Unplanned and in pen A permanent record of One Tiny Thought Given the importance of being written

On this day we appreciate and show gratitude for all those special women in our lives.  We recognize, as a whole country, the importance of the role of "mother".  So, it was interesting that I had an attack of self-loathing yesterday while we were celebrating early.  I don't deserve this.  I'm worthless, weak, a coward, a failure, lumpy and bumpy, crooked, broken < >.  It happens once in awhile.  It lasted until the morning despite my efforts (and Josh's) to help me process the REALITY from the emotional conditioning I've heaped onto myself over these 33 years of life.  It helped a little, but still I was feeling very guarded this morning.  Then I decided to write about it instead.  Here's what leaked out onto the page and liberated me from feeling worthless.  Maybe you can draw some insight or inspiration.  We all do it, or have done it at some point in time. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~...