The hotel room AC kicks on

It’s intermittent whir and hum

A reminder…

MY breathing will slow,

MY heart rate will temper.

Unlike the frog, too late aware

of the rising heat,

I’ve climbed out of the pot.

When I was a child

I knew everything

Why the grass was green 

and why the birds would sing

And as I got older 

I started to learn

That not everything we’re told 

Is necessarily so

A child who lives with laughter learns to be joyful

A child who lives with criticism learns to condemn

A child who is parented 

by someone who hasn’t yet learned 

is doomed to repeat these lessons over and over again

When I was a child 

I learned to be small

And whenever there was fighting, 

I had no voice at all

And as I grew up bigger I got loud,

And traveled far

Now that I am older

(And grayer and slow)

There’s not so many places 

I’d still like to go…

Some days I want to just sit here and watch the snow as it falls,

Or the rain, or the sun, 

Just stay within my own walls

I couldn’t wait to get bigger, 

I couldn’t wait to grow up

But now I want to be smaller, cause smaller’s big enough.

Someday barks in the distance

I call her, but she does not return

I cry myself to sleep

and wake up with salt stains

on my cheeks

I cannot return to the ocean

my skin is too raw from the surf 

I cannot go back to the place 

where you made me a-glow 

like the 7pm magical sunshine

and twist like the soft serve

that satisfied my tongue

I cannot turn my grief into beauty

All I can do is sit and remember 

summer nights drizzling like raspberries

down your chin

Thought I was 

a visionary:

That we’d be good;

Not ordinary

But I am I, and you are you,

despite plans and expectations,

Truth was truth–I was secondary

And life is life, 

so I walked away

Used all those years 

as a cautionary:

When it comes to love,

follow your heart, not your head

Insist the one 

laying beside you in bed

Will hold you dear

Honor you nightly,

And by day, 

will smile brightly,

Because they know 

how precious you are 

And so do you

Don’t stay stationary

Keep moving and growing 

and learning to love

Because you are are a gift 

from high up above

And if your mate 

doesn’t put you first

Remember why it is 

That you came to this earth:

You are kind, you are loving, 

you’re beautiful and good

And no one, not no one, 

can tell you you should

Take a second seat 

to anything else

All that really matters–

be true to yourself!

Next week they are splicing from my most sacred of space, testing the cells there to see what took place. What’s been spoiled by not-enough-love from the one who had promised me, all others above. To have and to hold, to respect, and to care, but nearly, not ever, going in there. Which led to those Wednesdays (two dollars per hour) when I gave him permission to take from my flower, to feed me, and water where blossoms would grow, but hardly, not ever, my husband would go. And so I said yes, even though I knew better, to prodding and thrusting, (the table getting wetter) knowing that soon, someday, there’d be prices to pay, for my quarterly, sinister, romps in the hay. And now these years later, the scalpel I’ll face, as I calmly confront the consequence of my disgrace. Because every misdeed, every heeded intention led me right here, exactly, no need to mention. On Tuesday, I’ll learn just how dearly I’ve paid, for deathly, bad decisions, made in those desperate days.

When I was with you, I would sometimes pretend that you had died, so I could try out the truth of living without you.

And now that we’re apart, the reality of your being very much alive and not here with me is more than I can bear.

I feel you everywhere.

You permeate every thought, every dream, every moment that I am conscious or asleep. Even though I had to let go, even though you have replaced me, I perist in you.

You’re in my coffee, you’re on my deck, you’re in the shower and in every bite of food.

You were singly the greatest love and the greatest wound I have ever or will ever feel.

I am undone.

Lonely, the only companion
When you reach to turn out the light
Rollover, and say to the pillow,
Good night, my darling, good night

Cause you know you’re sleeping alone,
You know, even though he is home,
The only smile returned in the mirror
Is the one that you give your own

And I’ll spend forever beside you
Least that’s what I promised that day
And I’ll wish and I’ll try and I I’ll fake it
Til someone sweeps me away…maybe someone will sweep me away

And tomorrow you’ll rise to fresh daisies
But not in a glass or bouquet
They’ll come via text from an old lover
Thousands of miles away

And how hard would it be just to hold me?
To wrap your arm ‘round my waist?
To breathe in my ear that you love me?
That you look forward to seeing my face?

I’ll spend forever beside you
Least that’s what I promised that day
And I’ll wish and I’ll try and I I’ll fake it
til tomorrow sweeps me away
Perhaps tomorrow will sweep me away…

The words you tell your disciples
The ones who think you’re so grand
Belie the truth that’s inside here…
I am conducting a one-woman band.

I’ll lie here and wait, for now, Dear,
tomorrow will sweep me away…

I heard an interview yesterday with a singer songwriter who told of going to screaming festivals when she was a kid. It was a great release to be able to lean back, let go, and let out whatever howl was inside. I thought about my childhood, my marriage, how different my life might be if I’d given myself that kind of permission. Instead, like the interviewer described the singer’s new, very quiet album, I did the “opposite of screaming.”

The opposite of screaming is telling yourself good night before you turn off the light because though you’re not alone, no one else will say it to you

The opposite of screaming is crying into your eggs as you stir them because though you’re not alone, no one else will share breakfast with you

The opposite of screaming is staying in the rocking chair for much longer than needed because though you’re not alone, no one else will want to talk with you after the baby’s gone to sleep

The opposite of screaming is knowing that your dog is your best friend because she’s the only one who’s excited to see you when you come back home

The opposite of screaming is getting licensed to a massage, so you can feel the skin of another human being

The opposite of screaming is having an affair with someone much younger than you just because they asked you to 

The opposite of screaming is leaving your marriage, writing your truth, and forgiving yourself every single day.

She used to lie on the white carpet in her grandmother’s living room, watching the pendulum on the grandfather clock. How curious, the extremes it took to keep the momentum going. As if time itself depended on it.

And one by one, they plucked the wings off of the good idea fairy.
Flying was no longer an option
So she learned how to climb.
Foot by foot and hand by hand
She elevated herself above her station.
To a place where she could see over the horizon
And to what lay beyond
Though she was missing a piece of herself
That she’d formerly thought was integral
Soon she learned that all was not lost
For even when a power claiming to be greater than yourself
Takes away the one thing you treasure most
You can dig deep, get brave, and continue to rise
Wings are not the only way to fly