wish me well

wish me well for now
i asked in a slow whisper to the nights air
for now will you wish me well
i said as my fingers touched the drops of rain
for now will you wish me well
as my shoes hit the cobblestones in the alley way
i know where my home is and
i will be coming home soon
my love

melancholy

melancholy no longer sits on my skin but has set into my flesh.
i have said goodbye to many times. my arms have grown tired
as they wait with open arms to welcome someone new. i have said goodbye too many times
my arms are tired, my throat is raw from singing children's songs. i have opened the treasure chest filled with
little clothes and shoes for little toes one too many times.

melancholy has passed my skin and now my flesh and has found away into my soul..

why is that you have forsaken me this...why

the envelop

as she reached her hand in the mail box and pulled the envelops out, there it was she was sure of it. she entered back into the house and laid the bundle on the table. she ran upstairs, made the bed and put away her clothes. she was running, ignoring. she came back down and as she passed it she could feel it call out to her and just then she called out to the dogs " let's go out". she lingered and strolled but she could not slip away from what she knew was waiting for her inside. she opened the door once more and unleashed the dogs, she ran her hands under the water bringing her cold wet hands to her face, she let the towel fall to the ground. it felt as if she was counting the steps to the letter. she picked it up, examined it closely then ripped the envelop. there it was laid out in graphing detail what she would be experiencing, charts, pictures, it was to be more difficult than she thought. no where on those pages was it written how she would feel, how if her heart was to be broken how long would it take to mend, could it mend? would it mend? she place the pamphlet back into the envelop and walked to the table, this time she opened the drawer and place it inside as she whispered to herself "monday i shall know what i might not wish to know".

the train took her

i wonder sometimes when i lost her? as if that day my eyes were filled with tears that i became blind to what direction the train took her. I hardly remember anything about her. the clothes that hang all over the house don't even trigger the faintest of memories . she is gone. in my attempt to make her stronger i scared away. sometimes i think i hear her, in a passing giggle or a sigh but no nothing, for she was silenced by my naive ways.

Sometimes it feels like i am following her but how could that be i left her behind, kicked up dirt in her face. confused she sat on that train and now the train is gone and no one is looking for her, not even me.

happiness is

when you are sitting in the dark listening to music that moves you, but not to tears but a childhood giddiness.

happiness is knowing you made it through, through it. that you might have lost somethings on the way but what you have gained can never be taken away, ever!

i am happy and if you could hear my voice and see my face right now you would know it to be true for my heart is singing and it does not sound half bad!!

i will hold on to this is one

i will not part with this tear, i feel it there just waiting to roll down my cheek but i can not let it fall i won't. i can not waste one more. see my body is my earth, planet, solarium, i must conserve, protect it, leave it for when it is truly needed. I want my body to bare fruit so you see i can't give you this one that is there right there waiting. i must not, i will not, can not....i must hold on to it..

what i do not know

i find myself with a paper thin heart today. How we fool ourselves to make things more bearable. yesterday i sat in the chair and i understood, how much i did not care for myself. How much events since my early years and a lot them in between has led me to believe that i had nothing worth keeping, easily disregarded. that on my side it was never greener.

i wrote about peeling the layers, they hurt. But nothing is ugly- yet i can't see myself in the looking glass- to afraid that i will understand what others don't see.

stone

i want to tell you everything. how inside she turned to stone, how violins scare her and pianos too. she wants to tell you that the river of tears is salted and she can't move on.
she floats.

she wants to tell inside she has turned to stone yet the day it happened she was not prepared and now she remains
stuck in tthat moment...

move along

sometimes i look around and wonder how many people wish for things that are easy to get, how we blind ourselves in believing that it is not possible I have always believed in the possibilities, layers and layers of possibilities. both my mum and my father had instilled this in me, yet somehow i question all that they gave up on.

Today while driving a cars bumper sticker read " i am boldly going nowhere" it scared me, yet i was curious was the driver saying i am happy here or was the driver disappointed. In my own life i do not know what i would answer except to say i hope i just don't believe in the possibilities but conquer them as well...

somtimes i lay on my bed and stretch as if i am trying to reach for something but there is nothing there except the wall of my imagination. Have i reached it i wonder. sometimes i find myself humming at tune, reliving a moment and feeling a pinch in my heart but when i think about it, it does not come from something i experienced but something i imagined.

to bright to be quiet

i am here by a window everything is quiet except for the sun. It has pushed the curtain open and has made my eyes water. I love the natural light i do, but today it is loud, too loud and it is inviting me to come out, when i can not. even sophie's bark can not drown it out, but together they are creating havoc in my head. I want to find a dark quiet space, quiet like grace, dark like grace.

aging

we are sitting at the cafe, his nose in and out of the paper.i
fingers play over the keyboard of my laptop half parousing the internet.

he: what are you thinking about?

me: nothing and you

he: nothing

me;(thinking to myself) i was thinking how the sunlight hits his eyebrow and his blue eyes shine, how the last fifteen years i have watched him grow into this handsome man. how is grey is camouflaged with his blond and it's beautiful and how the lines of his face has traced his kindness, is story how i love him now more than ever..

he: (interrupts my thoughts) well i was thinking about that girl over there how she reminds me of you when we met

and now i feel a string from my heart break as if it was a violin .

three

i am three people, the person i once was, the person i am and the person i am working hard to be. sometimes they meet, they revisit their story with each other. they cry, they laugh and at times they run and hide. the person i once was often runs back closing her eyes tightly. the person i am finds herself standing still requiring more patience then she is capable of giving. the person i am trying hard to be well i hardly see her clearly..she comes and goes and often has light around her so bright i look away.

i am three people they share common threads all so desperately trying to be heard one so wanting to be forgotten.

the window

every morning after staying still i turn my body towards the window across the loft. my cheek layes on the pillow as i stare through it. it frames the tree perfectly and the sun loves it. i get lost in it, i am not sure how much time i spend there each morning but i know it makes me happy to begin my day this way. soon it will bud, then leaves will follow, will it block the light, will i see through it. will i be here long enough..

it does not matter, right now i just don't want to close my eyes or move in anyway...

happiness arrived

in the form of the wind it whispered in my ear
" i have plans for you" i said yes, please. i sat at the steps
and listened to it all night tell me of my great adventure to
come. excited i immediately started packing for it afraid it would change it's
mind..i had ingnored it once before and the price was great.

now i stand in the middle of a place i will not return to, i am happy, no i am alive,
i am ready.

the rain

this place is so different. i lay so close to the window i could hear the rain clearly it feels like i should be getting wet. i listen to it some more and i am jealous of it. the rain has such freedom, it travels all around, it's journey never ends.

i told him i think i have accidentally erased myself, he says i am mistaken i am shedding layers, i say i don't like it, he asks why and all i want to say- no shout is stop it, please stop it. he looks at me and i ask him if he is bored of all of this, he says no and asks why i say such things i answer i am bored of it, of me. i tell him i have nothing to give. he says you are getting used to this that is all and i now tell him enough, enough.

my hand is on the window now, the rain taunting me, i want to touch it put my hand through this glass because opening it will take too long

sing

he walked down the staircase and asked her what she was doing up she said that she had dreamt of a song and that she was trying to sing it. "can i listen" he asked she said that she was still trying to piece it together. trying she said " i heard it before"she said" yes you said you heard it in your dream" no before that she responded as she ran to her note book " yes here it is, it is from
the documentary man on a wire"

"..her large green eyes embraced me ..and when we held each other it was as if we were children planning our next bout of mischievous..."

why do you look so sad " it is silly i know but i always thought that one day i would wake up and have the ability to sing" you make others want to sing he said, they both started laughing as he held her hand and walked her up the stairs as they tucked each other in he whispered in her ear" your large green eyes embrace me"

what i learned in bed

my eyes open and i look around trying to stay still so that i can have a few minutes for myself. somehow overnight my bed has doubled in size, yet the 100 pound white beast has no idea since my legs are pinned underneath her. the air in the room is different, the sun trying to push the blinds open. i start to think about last night and how i tried to get out of going to the play till k. held my hands and said " but honey you love the theater" he is right. i sat there listening to lines like " my life is in you" and " life is not printed on a dollar bill" i cried at the theater, the play moving. i felt alive. i look around the room again trying slowly to stretch without stirring the dogs. I think about the changes, the deep shedding that has taken place these last few weeks. I think about how i was afraid to stop loving k. and now i know that is impossible but fear that he will one-day stop loving me. the dogs notice me and come close to me my face gets licked by grace and sophie rest her body so close to mine. now i think about how i was afraid that my world had become to small always fighting to have no boundaries but somehow the last few months i made it small, so small that i had padded the walls so that nothing could hurt me, betray me, lie or make false promises to the point where i had walked away from everything i loved and that loved me except k and the girls. the last week i knew that i was starting to remove the padding and maybe put a few windows...this morning i felt the air touch the exposed skin.

had a little to much

IT IS MURDER mrs Palin what you call
hunting. Killing wolves with arial planes, letting them run to pure exhaustion then you gun them down?
a stipend reward for each pair of wolf paws- in the rest of the world mrs palin will call that poaching! and who pays for that the government.. what?

"i don't eat veal" well do you eat beef hotdogs because that is a small calf sold and slaughtered and two days old for fifty dollars are less.

cheese and other dairy products are not so cruel.. really? cows can not even go to the bathroom in peace they get an electric shock so they step backwards and poo in a specific place..

i was listening to i guess the view on the radio.. could not breath at how cruel the world can be who are these women do they really represent all the woman out there

there is ethical ways to do things get informed.

and what about the water bottle- really please let's try harder!

charade

i swallow my words and feel the lump in my throat till my heart aches just to spare you from pain. i drive out of the way so that you will not be caught like a deer in the headlights. i bury my pride so that you can roar like a lion, a lying lion.

i sit in his chair and tell him i want you to hurt, why do i want you to hurt i ask. he responds by saying you don't, so i say i want him to feel and he says he is incapable of feeling..i say not good enough. I say i am tired of him, tired of talking about him. he tells me about all the women who sit in this chair who have a someone like you. that you are nothing special, have nothing to offer just in ability to take, he is mediocre at best, a charade of a man.

i say i don't want to talk about him, i ask, do i hate him, he says you are angry, i say i don't want to be angry he says you have the right to be..