The Parade

Rain all you want on my parade.

Splash with anger against the cymbals and the drums.

Let what ails you spill out onto the streets.

I will stay afloat,

And wait for the real you to come flooding back.

The Pile

Six years ago she didn't have to deal with this.

The room appeared spotless,
Void of distractions,
Empty...
Her stuff was so well hidden even she couldn't find it!

Then life changed...

Now there was a pile of stuff in the middle of the room.
It wasn't as big of a pile as it was six years ago.
Most of the bigger items had been put in their proper place.
There was progress,
But she longed for the day when the stuff would magically disappear.
She knew that seldom happens...
The responsibility was hers.
She'd tackle it all eventually,
But, good golly, how did she accumulate so much stuff?!

Dignity

She brought a dust pan and a whisk broom with her that day.
She wanted to salvage what was left.
A few moments passed as she looked down at the mess.
She sighed as she scooped up the pieces and placed them in the front pocket of her shirt.
No matter how unsightly, she would keep them close to her breast.
She walked away whistling, knowing the heart has a way of healing broken dignity.

That Child

I screamed at her.
It was the middle of the night
And I was so tired.
Her face was not recognizable,
It was blurred by my imagination.
I recognized the yellow blinds...
They were from my childhood bedroom,
But the room was not mine.
It was isolated from the rest of the house.
I yelled, "I can't do this anymore!"
"This is your child!"
"I can't be the parent!"
The father agreed but offered no assistance.
He was silent,
A faint shadow in the background.
She tried to reassure me,
"I'll take care of this now."
But she disappeared after she spoke.
I wanted to walk away,
I couldn't.
Nothing was going to change,
And the child still needed me.

I woke up and cried for that child.

Skin

One salty tear would lead to the next,
And the next,
Until pretty soon I'd be empty...
A mere fraction of a woman.
Emaciated by the grief, yet again.
I waited for it to all spill out like before,
But it did not.
A couple of leaks here and there,
Easily patched by the kindness I built up.
My skin now thick and rich,
And all signs of anxiety exfoliated.
I am whole.
Still.
Without you.

December 30, 2012
I've had some time to reflect on this poem. I was very angry when I wrote it. The truth is...I cried buckets...I just had to hold them in until my family left and I was alone. I am whole (that part is true), but I am hurting, and that's okay because you don't lose a year long love with the person you wanted to spend your life with without feeling the loss.

Satisfy

She packs her own lunch now. That's what grown ups do. But wedged between the peanut butter sandwich and the carton of milk she found a morsel of dessert...Her mother must have put it in there when she wasn't looking. It was smushed beyond recognition, but still enough to satisfy.

The Other Side of Happy

It was an odd looking chair.
I had forgotten how cold and uncomfortable it was.
It looked out of place in the room remodeled for joy.
Dust had settled on the arms, so I wiped it away.
Last night I sat on the other side of happy.

Family Postcards

Stevie admired her empty cork board. She spent many years carefully removing the postcards from it that she'd saved from family trips. She had them up for so long that it was hard to take them down without getting emotional. The memories were vague, but the feelings, they were strong and powerful.

Stevie knew the postcards couldn't be easily disposed of. She had tried that once before, but the problem was, they were addressed to her. No sooner would she cast them away and they'd find their way back again. Stevie was now a grown woman about to start a family of her own. She was tired of the old postcards arriving unexpectedly, tired of the fights and problems they'd cause when the did arrive. Lines between old memories and the present were blurred, and there was no room for the present day.

It took longer than she expected to look at each one because the postcards only offered glimpses of what her childhood was like. She thoughtfully filled in the gaps where the thumb tacks and tape left holes. She did take delight in some of the memories uncovered. Those memories gave her strength to get through some of the tougher ones. Each day she was one step closer to understanding herself, and with that understanding came peace and resolution.

Life wasn't perfect after she cleared away that old cork board. There were still sad events and moments of disappointment. Stevie handled these moments more easily. She took comfort in knowing that when those postcards would arrive she'd have room to pinpoint them exactly.

The Dinner Party

She hosted a rather odd dinner party.
It was a party of "ic's" and "ist's".

The Procrastonist RSVP'd at the last minute,
And showed up late.

The Optimist just knew they'd get a coveted invitation,
And looked forward to the event.

The Pessimist assumed it would be a disastrous party,
But showed up with a bowl of sour grapes.

The Hopeless Romantic got lost on the way,
She couldn't see through her rose-tinted glasses.

The Elitist didn't bother to show,
Even though they had nothing to do that night.

The Critic was so consumed by making mental notes,
He forgot it was a party... occupational hazard.

The Antagonist brought a suspicious potion,
And stirred up trouble.

The Fatalist knew that trouble was inevitable,
And showed up waiting for it to all play out.

The Narcissist made it known to everyone
That he was the life of the party.

The Fanatic bought into what the Narcissist was selling,
And fawned all over him.

The Agoraphobic politely declined,
She was afraid to leave her home.

The hostess knew there'd be a 50/50 chance the party would be a success.
After all, she had to be Realistic...

Well.....you get the Gist.

The Visitor

You can't have me permanently.
Nobody can.
When I arrive you feel sunshine,
My warmth envelopes you.
You take my presence as proof...
If I'm there, your feelings must be real!
You think you could never have too much of me,
But I always sense when I've overstayed my welcome.
I leave, allowing you quieter moments.
You reflect calmly as you search for meaning. 
Occasionally these moments bring tears.
I  hope that I will not be away for long.
I do worry you won't remember me.
But, when I round the corner
You always recognize me.
How could you not?
I am your smile!

The Lovely Trail

She would walk each day,
One foot in front of the other...
Every day,
Moving

There was no way to get around her fears,
She chose to plow through them.

She ran past her enemies,
But reached back her hand when needed.

She skipped often,
Always with a song in her heart.

She carried light at all times,
To shine the way for the little ones.

She danced with her family,
Waded through sorrow,
Paved new memories,
And marched for her beliefs.

She took her final step at the finish line.
That's when she soared....

...Leaving a lovely trail behind.

I Know

"Good morning," Isaac said as he wrapped his arms around her.
Sam giggled when he kissed her on the neck and scooted herself closer to his body.
They found each other's feet and nestled in like spoons.
"Who fell asleep first last night?" she asked.
"I think you did. You snored a little last night," he said in a playful way.
Sam turned her head so she could see his face and said, "I know."
He pulled the blanket over her bare shoulder.
"How do you know you snored if you were asleep?" he asked.
"Because you just told me," she said with a smirk.

"So," she said, "I've been thinking about this whole 'I love you, I love you more' argument we had last night."
"And what have you decided?" Isaac asked.
"It's okay if you want to love me more," she said.
"Well, then, it's settled," he said.
"Yep," she said, nodding in agreement.
"I do, you know. I do love you more," he said.
"I know, I knew that even before you said it just now," she said as she rolled over to face him.
"And how exactly did you know?" he asked.
"Because you told me last night when I was snoring."
"You just set me up," said Isaac.
Sam rolled back over, pulled his arm back around her,
and said, "I know."

That Bow

"I suck at wrapping," she said as she handed him his gift.
Sam looked at Isaac nervously while he started to unwrap the lumpy box.
"I can never get the creases right and I'm all thumbs when it comes to tape."
Isaac recognized her nervous chatter and reached out with smiling, blue eyes. She loved that he knew when to do that.
"Seriously, it's bad wrapping. Can you believe I spent half an hour doing this?"
He inspected the box with amusement, she knew he was joking.
"I mean, who spends half an hour wrapping a gift!"
Isaac set the box down, touched his right hand against Sam's left cheek, and said, "I don't need fancy packaging to tell me that I'm going to love what's inside."
"Damn!" she said, "I wasted $2.99 on that bow."

Speak Kindly

My insecurities can blind me.

This self- loathing, with my permission, defines me.

When my fears take over, it confines me.

Sometimes I need help,
Please,
Remind me.

To myself, I need to speak kindly.

Note: I came across this post from a couple of months ago. It was a bit over-dramatic so I moved it to "drafts". I don't feel this way at the moment, I just needed the reminder.

Exactly

"I figured it all out," she said with a laugh.
"Ha!"
"Here you go."
Sam handed the sheet of paper to Isaac from across the table.

Isaac reached for his reading glasses,
Glanced at the paper,
Turned it over,
Flipped it back to the other side,
And said, "It's blank. You got me, what is it?"

Sam snatched it back,
Eyed the paper while mumbling to herself,
Looked at Isaac,
Smiled,
And folded it neatly before putting it in her pocket.

"Well?" he said.

"Well what?" she asked, reaching for the last french fry on his plate.

"What did you figure out?" Isaac said, pulling the plate from her reach.

"I figured out that you get the same look on your face when you're trying to read my mind," she said.

"I'm confused," he said.

Sam reached over,
Patted his hand gently,
Swiped the fry from his plate,
And said, "Exactly."

Flavor

Each day she'd walk up to her canvas,

Stop,

Give a little smile,

And add something to it.

Yesterday it was a smudge of Cheetos from her hands...

Art doesn't mind if you're messy,

And every canvas needs a little flavor.

Waterproof Mascara and Umbrellas

I sat in my car this morning and cried...
It was a good one.

I cried because my heart is too full
And there is no more room for lingering anxiety.

I let the tears flow like the clouds release rain
And nurture growth.

So this is why waterproof mascara was invented...
And umbrellas.

Floaties

I have a case of shallow words.
My vocabulary is restricting me to the kiddie pool.
Deeper words are not yet rising to the surface.
It's all nice,
And pleasant as I'm bobbing along.
It's definitely not dark...
I still enjoy splashing around with my thoughts.
But these floaties are annoying to wear.

The World Wide Open - Choices

I posted last night about Cinderita's latest venture. Please check out the post before this one. I don't want it to get lost in the shuffle.

I'm up at 4am writing because I've got something on my mind and it can't wait. I'm saddened by what spews from our mouths because we, as Americans, are entitled our freedom of speech. Freedom of speech is a gift, and we don't always  treat it as such. We were put on this earth to be individuals. As individuals we have our own, unique voices. We as individuals came together years ago to choose freedom of speech.

We have a choice ...

There's a fine line between standing up for what you believe in and voicing your opinion for the sole purpose of division...especially when it concerns people of power or fame.

YOU can choose to polarize just as easily as you can choose to unite. I'd be a hypocrite if I said that I only put out there that which unifies...but I am re-thinking my choices.

I don't normally re-post old poems, but just this once, please indulge me...This one is from December, 2011...

This is the place
Where sadness can go
In quiet desperation
Released into the world wide open

This is the place
Where hate can take form
Anger meets frustration
Released into the world wide open

This is the place
Where fear can roam
Dividing a great nation
Released into the world wide open

This is the place
Where courage can break through
An overnight sensation
Released into the world wide open

This is the place
Where hope can spread
With a little imagination
Released into the world wide open

This is the place
Where peace can run free
It's ours for creation
Released into the world wide open

There are so many avenues to be heard...what do you choose to release into this world wide open?

Sharing Awesome

Just a quick post to share Cinderita's latest venture into awesomeness. I read her post today and was moved to share. I'm always amazed by her spirit and compassion.

http://cinderitaadventures.blogspot.com/2012/08/ambassador-of-awesome.html

Please check out her latest post and the link to her new site, OWN YOUR AWESOME