Silence

Drifting through a life
Built on want ads
Remembering things
Yet to come
As the ceiling crumbles
Revealing the sky
My voice flies away to meet the blue
With a broken wing
Guided by a compass
That only knows South
Leaving me with silence
As my only defense
Against the piling rubble
Do you remember the names
Of the hearts you've stolen?
They are buried here with me
Casualties of your private war
But I cannot stay to mourn
Not finding the key
To the door
I climb the debris
Chasing my voice
Adding another brick to the pile
With the thought of "I want . . ."

The Breaking

Light is breaking
Breaking apart the shadows and secrets
So I pack my bags
With photographs never taken
Memories never made
Words never spoken
Happiness never known
Clothing that smelled like you for mere moments
With one last look
At the bed where you slept
But never shared
I turn my back
Bags heavy in my hands
And walk into the breaking

Ephemeral (edit)

I can't leave this alone tonight, and I probably should. This piece will forever be linked in my mind with Beck's "Broken Drum" (the remix by Boards of Canada). So, after some commentary and discussion with a very talented writer friend of mine, I've done the following with this piece:

Tonight, I am haunted by dreams. The memory of your eyes, in the sunlight through snow. Color shifting iris. Who's to know what's real? The memory of your hand grazing my waist. I'm wearing a dress you've never seen. But you'd love it on your bird. Nothing is sure, but the joy is constant. The joy as great as the fear as great as the anger as great as the questions as great as the love. Do I know you? In songs we shared like secrets on pillows. Trying to find peace. But disinfecting a wound hurts. And running makes us strong. I dance to wring you from my mind. My soul. From every place you've touched. It doesn't work. Produces only fire that won't be put out by my tears. Your dream shade won't leave, weaving and twisted. Wrapping around me. We touch without touching. Do I feel you? Or just want to feel you? The light shines through your color shifting iris. Do I know you? Dance.

Ephemeral

This post is going to be a little different. It may help if you listen to this song while reading: http://lala.com/z7vo. I know it made me feel like I needed to write this, in this way.

Tonight, I am haunted by dreams. The memory of your eyes, in the sunlight through snow. Color shifting iris. Who's to know what's real? The memory of your hand grazing my waist. I'm wearing a dress you've never seen. But you'd love it on your bird. Nothing is sure, but the joy is constant. The joy as great as the fear as great as the anger as great as the questions as great as the love. Do I know you? In songs we shared like secrets on pillows. Trying to find peace. But disinfecting a wound hurts. And running makes us strong. I dance to wring you from my mind. It doesn't work. Produces only tears and longing. Your dream shade won't leave, weaving and twisted. Wrapping around me. We touch without touching. I can feel you.

initiation

treading water
as black and thick as oil
watching a faceless wall of hands
moving in all directions
to push
to pull
to drown
to save
I bear my teeth
smiling a jackal smile
releasing
into the abyss
more shallow than the eye can see
and fill my lungs on my own
buoyed up
by the stones tied to my ankles
I emerge
fearless

Untitled

i sleep in you
recklessly waking
to your image
in tea leaves
signs, omens, and old wives' tales
bind me
returning me to dreams

Monkey Bars on a Cloudy Night

Last night, I was on my way home from work, and noticed that the Lippitt Park playground is reasonably well lit after dark. I've driven past this playground many times. It's my family's favorite playground to visit. We often attend the farmer's market there. But I saw it for the first time last night. It was one of those odd moments of something familiar becoming new for just a moment. I continued home. I put my children to bed, and left again to meet some friends for a night out after the stress of the past couple of weeks.

After a fun night out, I purposely headed home in the direction that would once again take me past Lippitt Park. Once again, it was well lighted. This time, I pulled over. I took a walk around, feeling the happiness of childhood there, and decided to climb to the top of the monkey bars. There I sat. I only spent a few minutes on that dome. It was cold, and the breeze simultaneously cut through me and caressed me. The silence was both lonely and beautiful. I suddenly felt happy and free, a feeling I'd needed for weeks. I climbed down, and went home feeling as light as a laugh on the breeze.

I learned two things last night. Sometimes we need to let go of the seriousness of life and embrace our childhood, even if we are well beyond those years. The other thing is, if one decides to sit on top of monkey bars in New England in October at 2am, one should be wearing socks . . .