The denied State

I confess the sins of my father’s life

as it applies to me

I am salty as a pillared Lot’s wife

lost in the desert sea

Tears I weep bear witness brazenly rife

Innocence amputee

Rending the branch with my family tree’s knife

Idiosyncrasy

 

Promises

As I lay me down to sleep

I know that you will always keep

the promises we made my friend

even when the night never ends

We will never be apart

for I will always carry you in my heart

You were there for me

I was there for you

When we shared everything

We still stayed true

If you took away

every childhood day

I would still choose you

I still carry you in my heart

Sugar Bright

Brightly colored consumers dazzled the streets as glittery sprinkles

Music sporadically puncuates the roast scented air 

Generators squall screams of power to the food trucks serving delectables.

Children, dogs, puppies, and elderly get dragged haphazardly

threading through the tapestry of flamboyant humanity.

Laughter, shouts paging the lost, the haggling and dickering,

Hands of artisans become hands of merchants, hawking wares

I wander through the murky shades of auras blended into one

First I head down one side, recognizing repeat offenders,

enthusiastically exploring the oddities made from new and/or antiquities

Rainbows spin in place then revolve in a resolving pattern

like a quilt come to life, undulating like lovers beneath the blues.

Tick-tock-DING!

This tick-tock

Is the time

Of our lives.

Each moment

That we donate

Each kiss

Each smile

Each tear

Each mile

Are our silent

prayers

Of unmindful

Gratitude

To death.

That we didn’t

Taste

The wormy

Tick-tock of

Our own demise.

This tick-tock is

Our tiny truce

Taking for granted

That this tick-tock

Won’t be our last.

But a moment,

Just like this,

May not come

At our willful

Bidding

But will,

instead,

Cause someone else

To donate

Unwittingly

Their moment

To notice

Your absence

Your Tick-tock-DING!

Winning

I am not a battered woman
You have not beaten me.
I will not wear your badge of survivor
I am more than labels placed on me.
I will not wear the moniker that puts me on a shelf
Remove your fractured vision, see me as myself.
I am worth much more in value than you may suspect;
Through my voice which will not remain silent
Until six feet under is my grave
Through my compassion which remains undaunted
Until there’s no one left to save
Through my passion colored paint strokes
On a canvas misbehaved
I am far more wonderful than what little you see,
I deserve to be seen as a woman.
Branded only with equality.

Advice of a Falling Leaf

I love Autumn. Everything about it brings me giddy glee. The red plaid flannels start trickling out of closets to combat the chilly mornings. The coffee pot, that in my house never quits, starts perking earlier against the darkened dawn that used to invite iced tea with its chipper light. The apple festivals are polluted with the joy of pumpkin spice while the silent witness of the changing leaves hang like ornaments blazing with remembered warmth.

As I sit watching the wheels of nature turn, I wonder what advice those leaves would give to me if they could tell their life stories. I’ve seen them grow on what appeared to be desolate deadened trees, blossom into their spring and summer finery, challenge the fashion of green with orange, red, and yellows, then gracefully drift on the winds of the changing seasons to carpet the ground with rustling tapestries. They speak to us in their ancient tongues and we hear them when we listen.

Don’t be afraid to bloom

In the spring, the beginning, the start of any project there is darkness. There is a point where we don’t know and we don’t understand. We wonder “What if…?” Will the risk we’re about to become engaged to grow or will it whither? We don’t know, but we can hope. We take the idea that needs great care. We water it, coax it, and nurture the idea like we would an infant. The idea becomes a concept.

Reach for the Light

Every good concept, and even the not so good, needs to see the light of day. It needs to be explored, coddled, and embraced as the truly important part of our lives. Particularly when it sings to our soul spirits the song that makes our minds dizzy with gratitude, hope, and joy. Allowing the concept to gain momentum from the creative input and outbursts of potential fruition help us to realize that maybe our ideas weren’t all that crazy. Perhaps our vision is what the world has been waiting to see for many moons or many seasons. It’s an enticing bite into the dawning light when we can understand that our hibernating ideas, need light to grow.

Rise Above Your Roots

Everything you were taught in your lifetime has led you to this very moment. Every tool you need is close at hand. Your history has guided you to this precise time of understanding, of clarity. It is your roots that have allowed you to tap into your potential. Dig down into the earth of your experiences. Find everything you need but don’t be afraid to rise above them. Be who you are meant to be not who you were told you are/were. The ancestors that have come before you had their own fears and insecurities that have trickled over your being in unhealthy droplets. But then so has the strength, the power, and the will to persevere. You are more than your roots, but you’re also of them. Every bit of this is the fertilizer you need to bloom.

Show your true colors

Your concept is sound. Your talents regarding your project are apparent. You’ve had reassurance from your “Amen” corner that your vision is clear. You’ve tested the waters and found they’re receptive. Now what? Strip away the bud to unfurl the sails of destiny. Allow the world to see the glory of your brainchild singing the song of life. No matter which decision you’re facing right this moment, if you’re working towards growth, you’re working towards blooming into your full potential. Don’t be afraid. Just breathe because that will allow things to fall as they need to and you to realize your own dreams. If the process is painful, there is a reason for it. Embrace the push of labor towards your blooming. As a common phrase, don’t be afraid to shake your tail-feathers a bit.

Let it go

When you have given every bit of energy to an idea that actually works, it is sometimes difficult to allow someone else to take ownership in their own lives of their ideas that grew from your seed. Surrounded by the sheep that flock to your idea, the project you’ve created is now out there in the world breathing its own life. It is bounding around in happy abandon through fields of expansion. Allowing it to take a life of its own is similar to cutting ties or watching the death of something precious, but it’s not dead. It has lived as yours. It will always be yours. It has just moved forward to fall gracefully from the branches of your loving hands to the hearts of those surrounding you. Accept the release as a part of the natural order of things. Allow it to be the memorable shades of color it was destined to become when you first acknowledged its presence in your life.

Rest

I find it incredibly cathartic to find the place where I can hibernate for a while to rejuvenate my spirit after I’ve “birthed” an idea into a concept. I retreat to solitude, typically with a good bottle of wine and a warm bath accompanied by a good book or soft music and I wallow. I allow the world to look at my creation and pass judgment on what I’ve brought out of Otherwhere. Once I’ve followed the necessary steps, it’s done. It is what it is. Then I get to allow the next idea to flow into concept form and the cycle, like the seasons, begins again.

Blueberry Bars

Okay, so by the title you may think this is a recipe post. It isn’t but that’s because I have a different purpose with this post.

I’m babysitting my Rents dog, Pol (short for Apollo) while they are celebrating my nephew’s birthday at my brother and sister-in-heart’s home an hour away. By hanging out with their dog, I’m getting quiet time with no responsibilities where I can write uninterrupted. As you can tell by the several posts I’ve put up since yesterday, it’s working.

A few posts ago, I shared that I found my best friend dead in her room at my home in July. This past Tuesday brought the death of my eleven year old Chihuahua, Piggy Suey (Fuck Cancer). This summer has brought quite the load of emotional baggage to my doorstep while I continue my battle with chronic depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideations. The ideations, to ease your mind, don’t necessarily mean I’m suicidal, I just think about it without preface. (Think of it like the Uncle nobody invites but he shows up drunk anyway.)

I am hoping that the grief I’m experiencing over these painful losses will ease its hold from my heart while allowing me to move forward. Which is why I’m here at my Rents watching their dog.

This is temporary respite from the thousands of memories that have accumulated in my homes corners like cobwebs of loss or cracks of happiness. The memories I have with my lost loved ones clutter every surface, filling my home with love lost. But here, at my Rents, I feel a sense of relief. It’s as if I’ve found a safe-haven that allows me to breathe for a bit. I will go home and deal with the emotions that overwhelm me, but I’ll also accept this small bit of respite in normalcy.

I’ve already made myself a caveman meal which I generously shared with Pol. I’ve made blueberry bars, ran the dishwasher, picked up turtle food for Herbina, played with Ruby, visited with my beautiful Aunt, and played the piano for a bit. I feel more relaxed than I have in weeks. It’s a good feeling to know that I will be okay even when the “real world” keeps showing me that I’m not. I will get there again but it will take time as my elders and peers keep sharing with me.