Wouldn’t bet it all on Friday
as Friday came and went
just another square on the calendar
just another face in the crowd
just another coin in the fountain
just another, just another
It goes on and on, the waves roll in
but the tide never really changes
just more broken shells left to find
walked this beach a thousand times
bet it all on Friday again
but nothing changed, what remains
inside these walls of sky again
a thousand miles
down the shore, I walked
before the gulls weary wings
and mine, we rested
by walking the sea’s remember
you once walked here, too
before broken shells
and words, winter’s bite
echoes of tidal times
moon phases, things
you can count on
you
disappeared
one set of footprints in sand
even the waves know
erase it all
quickly, so we don’t
look back, so stark
these clouds who used
to gather down, they look
away now, just me
a one way trip
I’ll go quietly
i fell off the edge of the world
tumbled through time, through
the air you left behind. you flew
away inside of me. I stayed
and cried, my insides
empty runways,
clouds melting into my head
asking why, why I was stilled,
holding the air you left behind
Inside
The words she hides
Underneath
Muffled gray skies
Between
Boarded up eyes
Within
Worn down outsides
Somewhere
She cries
Inside
all the ways I drown in silence
as lifeboats climb trees
the tidal pull, the listen for you
but wave after wave of mute breath
while your forests are alive with float
songs of save, so far away
sink, sink in salty quiet
none of your life lines reach
they play melodies in trees
and I struggle
wordless rip current
desolate sea
silences me
one
alone
solitary
separate
only
one
long ago he had gone
to the silence, though
she held time as if was
the hands that once
caressed her cheek
before the decay of days
the way his eyes never
fell upon her anymore
their journey away
had begun before the trees
wept and footsteps grew
farther in colder days
the surrender of years
until nothing remained
but the window watching
empty spaces
She crawled inside the night to wait
as the sun sunk low, all of her warm
colors followed her down to the sea.
Like music, she heard them go – sun
and her bright yellows and reds – drums,
full orchestra as she bowed her head.
The oranges, peaches, and pinks
danced across the stage, violins echoed
their softer song, and then dropped
with the wind. Only piano remained,
clear and blue, and indigo inked the sky
as day let go – and silence.
And, for so many nights, this is when
the stars would come. The keeper would
release them, one by one. He’d watch her eyes
as stars transformed the blue, and the blue
of her eyes drew the stars inside. And in her sky
he’d draw magical things, and that is what
her heart was made of. But one night, the keeper
never came, and stars began to disappear.
Others claimed to see them still, but her sky was dark.
Deep inside her the magic never returned –
a heart without a keeper, a sky without the stars
I am here
and you are
where
I am lost
in an ocean
of your
silence
reaching for a
lifeboat
of your words
but
wind speaks waves
that crash
over me
listening
cloud cover
only
beyond my sea
your island
of words
I
float
in
silence
(today I decided to walk out deep into the woods until I came up with answers to the questions I have been pondering. after walking more than 7 miles in the heat, I found myself lying face down in a grove of trees, with no recollection of what had happened. i took this photo then. i was injured, dizzy, and in no shape to walk the remaining 5 miles back to my car, but i realized that, not only did i have no phone reception, but i had no one to call to come help me. somehow i made it out. i was in the woods for almost 5 hours. after i got home, i found this poem on my phone. i wrote it today, but i have no recollection at all of writing it. i think that says a lot.)
eight miles out i fall
black out, wake up
stones edge tree lean
ask. no reception here
no one to call. leaks
from knees, red, and eyes,
clear drops of alone
air crush with know. no
breath. out of focus all.
lost. alone. maybe here
home after all.
all along i’ve been not knowing
so i could see the violet in the sunset,
but i missed the moon rise and the
wishing star. i captured the violet
but lost the music of the wave break,
waft of salty air, and the hollow feel
of you, walking away, beneath the violet.
Listen, hear, I am but a gull whose feathers
raise against offshore winds, but the sea,
the sea sent me with words for you.
I waited by the shore break, passed
many days, tides, and angry rain, for the sea
spoke, called forth the sun. As I rode
his rolling surf, he sung of his love for you,
the furious storms that frightened you away.
He knew you trembled in your sleep, dreamt
of being swept away under his dark waves.
He quieted, and waited for your sun to return.
“Gull,” he cried, “She will come back. Tell her
not to go. Look upon my gentle calm.”
And I was part of the sea, and believed.
You sat with the sea all that day, felt, heard,
listened his song of calm, until the clouds
pulled across the sun, though he fought them,
they were angry, and dark. The sea tried,
and tried to hold his calm but the dark
clouds and wind were joined, and the waves
swelled, and louder, crashed, higher and soon,
you were trembling again, and left. I was sorry.
And the sea still cries for you.
i got on a plane (i didn’t)
to look you in the eyes (you said don’t come)
and the sun danced with me (it was raining)
flowers floating, tender embrace (lying alone)
you wouldn’t let go, you breathed me (sobbing silence)
and held, and held, and held (let go)
waiting turned to love (wait)
we are one (alone)
empty picnic table
covered in snow
remembers a time
she wasn’t alone
winter tire tracks
long in the night
ending nowhere
endless streetlights
the coldest days
spent white and alone
frozen promises
fill up your home
crushed, as rock is ground
to sand and washed to sea,
tiny pieces of used to be,
fall away in time, until nothing
solid remains – and emptiness
where I used to be.
All night she stayed,
forehead pressed
against the chilly window,
waiting for the rain
to turn to snow.
Pleading eyes watched
the streetlight, as rain
fell down, and wind
chased it sideways.
All she needed
was to see it turn
white, to cover life
outside the window
with tiny pieces of
icy hope.
But morning brought
only dark puddles
outside and on
her face.
Just because I walk when wind blows strong,
doesn’t mean your words won’t knock me
to the frozen ground. And just because I let
the rain fall over me, through me, soak me
like a thirsty tree, doesn’t mean the looks
that fall upon me go unnoticed; their bitter
wetness seeps in every pore and flows deep.
Just because I hear claps of angry thunder and
don’t flinch, that doesn’t mean that cruelty isn’t
slicing through me, gashing at my peace. And
just because I watch the tide come in, the stars
appear, the sun rise, doesn’t mean you are here.
Just because I am alone and my eyes are dry
doesn’t mean that I don’t weep.
If you held my hand,
those angry storms that rush in
like muggers, and knock me from behind,
leaving me broken and breathless
on the ground-they wouldn’t come.
And the cold rain that stays for days
and bleeds its gray through every layer
of me-it would stay away.
And the ice that seizes me and my trees,
so still and frozen we can snap and fall
to pieces-it couldn’t form
if you held my hand,
If you
held
my
hand.
Remember how I waited
for all the words you didn’t say,
like the gasp the sun makes
just before she dives into the sea,
and yellows and oranges turn deep,
into blue foghorn songs in the dusk.
Now I walk dark streets in silence,
to see if your words hang there,
waiting, a song to be collected,
but block after block is empty,
quiet, no words left for me.
one more voice saying
disappear
join the chorus in my head
disappear, disappear
voices haunt every moment
disappear, disappear, disappear
I listen, don’t eat, or talk, or feel
disappear, disappear, disappear, disappear
I thought I found
~stay~
but it was just another
disappear
release the last breath
of hope, like a balloon into
the grayest sky. never
return. deep, heaving sobs
of grief in a hollow ribcage.
float. no one. disappearing
led to this. a cliff. didn’t even
have to jump. searing pain
of gone. a push. and
nothing.
My photos are out of focus.
I can’t stop taking pictures of clouds.
My clothes are getting bigger,
nights getting longer.
I sleep with four blankets
to keep me from drifting away.
And there’s one pillow under my head,
and one pillow over, to keep things out.
Nights are too long,
filled with bad dreams about being chased,
and falling, and turning to stone.
Places with happy people make me cry.
That’s not normal, you know.
I broke my favorite mug.
My hand dropped it,
and the lighthouse
was in a hundred
pieces. I can’t
pick them up.
I just sit
on the
floor
with
them.
Good morning….echoes throughout my blog which has yet to find readers 😉 . That’s ok. I will continue to share. If you write it, they will come, right? Well, maybe…
“I have learned now that while those who speak about ones miseries usually hurt, but those who keep silence hurt more. ”
― C.S. Lewis
This is what I am contemplating today. There are times I want to hide and run away and hear only silence for days. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I want to be dropped off in the middle of the forest somewhere, such is my need to escape the chaos around me. Do other people feel the same? I don’t know. Some people thrive upon it, I think.
When I feel bad, really bad, like the kind of bad where I am spending hours with the pillow over my head and purposely stepping in front of speeding cars, I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to hear from anyone. I want to be ALONE. And yet, somewhere inside I know that isolation is not the answer. I have to force myself to talk to people, to step outside the house.
And, usually, the things I least want to talk about the the things I need to talk about most….
Talking to the Clouds 