Category Archives: Relationships

The old sweater

A sweater should be warm and generous to snuggle safely into when it's chilly.

A sweater should be warm and generous to snuggle safely into when it’s chilly.

 

I loved that sweater.

I adored the warmth and the way it smelled like motherhood.

I loved the softness that it offered, the tenderness of triumphant love

I embraced the patterns, the textures, the shifting colors, the lengthening tide

It was my favorite that I brought out whenever I needed to put on my very best outfit

But I snagged it on a dream that stuck out         from the wall just a little too far, too far.

It kept getting caught every time I’d pass         through that doorway into the other room.

I kept meaning to fix that spot on the wall         but there never seemed to be enough time.

The picture of us at Christmas,

(I was wearing that sweater) hangs askew

with chipped glass over my face

That should be non-glaring, but the faces,

the fake happy faces, glare

back at me ungenerously.

I couldn’t see it then.

The sweater was covering my eyes with promises

of generational family traditions.

I wore the sweater f

a

ith

ful

ly

and wondered why

it kept getting smaller.

Why didn’t it fit any more?

As I look back,

I see the many tangles,

knots,

frays,

and trail offs

of disconnect-

-ed

yards

of

yarn.

I mourn for my favorite sweater.

I loved that sweater.

Open to me

OCEAN

Open up your sea to me so that I can sink my toes into your shores

Let me be wrapped up in your undertow,

Drowning while begging for more.

Open up your sky to me so that I can dream your galaxies with you

Let me become the very air we are

So that I may breathe you too

Open up your infinity to me so that I can swim in the pool of us

Let me drape on lounging couches stories

Of pearled adventures of our trust

Open up your earth to me so that I might return to dust again

Let me crumble from the quakes you give

That I’ll return world without end.

I really dig

I really dig that when I open up my blog reader

I find people-y readers lurking about, liking this or that.

I really dig that when I peer back through the shop window

the readers grunt, groan, lust, hug, love and hate like I do.

I really dig that when I peer through the looking glass

I don’t find my readers slumped sleeping in side-chairs.

I really dig that they poke fingers to keys while:

drinking coffee

popping pills

drinking bourbon

honoring artists

dancing with desires for origami people on paper they will print.

I really dig that the people I don’t know by face

stare back at me as we travel, passing on our reader’s train.

I really dig when we arrive at the same destination of personal truth.

Because that’s when the shit gets real.

TRIGGER WARNING: The Only Sane Person In The Room

You were the only sane person in the room that day in Earl’s basement in November of that year. You were the one I clung to as my savior because even Janet, his wife and sole witness, rejected the truth before her eyes that Ron committed against my nine year old body.

I escaped through the portal into the apartment that Mork shared with Mindy. I thought of you, Robin Williams, the way you brought that alien to life. You sheltered me from the horrors that happened to me that day. You allowed me a place to recluse myself so that I witnessed what happened to me from a distance. That the pain was unfettered was too much to bear and you, without knowing it, were there with me. You stood by me in rainbow colored be-pinned suspenders and danced around the Colorado apartment. You protected me. Mindy didn’t matter as much as you did, dear Mork. She wasn’t strong enough of a personality to shield me from personal tragedy like you even though she was there too.

I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me that day in the basement unbeknownst to you. If it hadn’t been for the character you brought to life, ironically, I would have emotionally shattered. I only wish that I could have returned the favor to you. I only wish I could have eased the hurt, sadness, and tragedy that haunted your life.

My beloved friend, that I didn’t know in person, I will treasure your gift to the world as if you made it just for me, because that day…that one day, you did.

Truly and Dearly

The day we met, I knew, that from that day forward

The sky would have to embrace a truer blue,

The stars couldn’t sparkle except from your eyes,

The sun would shy from your radiance,

The moon would hide its face in shame,

The oceans would flow from your fingertips

Bending to your whim and desires,

The earth, itself, would long to capture your attention

And when you smiled

There was my Happy Ever After staring back at me

It was then that I realized that I’d move any obstacle

To bask in your heart

In your love

Forever

My Friend Stand-By

When I was younger,

You chose,

For some reason,

To give me support when I was broken

Offered kindness when I acted stupid

Gifted patience when I didn’t understand.

You stood by me when it felt

The whole world was laughing,

Not with me, but at me.

Because of these things

You’ve given so freely to my spirit

I’m taking the time to tell you

How very much you’re loved.

Thank you for being my friend.

Dusty thoughts

 

The dust has barely settled.
My cup is empty again.
The protests of the floor above
isn’t you. It’s them.

I sit at my table wanting
to be left alone
I have no need for antics
knowing you are gone

I’m not really sad
I’m not really upset
I’m not really happy
Wishing to forget.

These Are My People: Alicia Menninga

A Love Note

A Love Note

Goddess

Her hair flows like cool rivers around her shoulders

brushing softly at my cheeks

she leans in to touch my arm

whispering thoughts that caress my ears like a song

Her scent is musky rain with a hint of sandalwood

It cloaks my breath with its subtle incense

My heart shudders, bounces, tossed as if on a rolling sea

Her soul floats openly in her kaleidoscope eyes

Her tranquil gracefulness is haunted

with echos of vulnerability and pain

She glows like an oil lamp, flickering, heated,

fueled by a passion for life…and love

She pulls away and with a simple gesture of her hand

she proves herself to be exquisite, delicate, powerful

Her gentleness sweeps against my skin like a searing hot fire

Her giggled words, like cannons,

firing…exploding

encompassing me.

One kiss would damn me

One intimate touch would be my downfall

The consequences harsh and brutal

The risk too great

I hover, instead, around her light in hopes

that perhaps she might shine on me again.