how far does love get a person?

the gist of it is
my heart is torn
going back a bit
my heart’s been broken
over and over and now
now the pieces are being offered
or, let’s say I am holding them close and they’re ready to be handed out
but does anyone even want one?
does anyone know what’s available?
in the midst of all the disorder and those only wanting to bide time
does anyone care?
there’s a wall between us

I was reminded yesterday
like so many times before
what I’m doing and why
a few tears over young people who would be surprised to know
how far does caring get a person?
maybe love confines as opposed to the supposed freedom
we’re taught joy is a waterfall
an unending cascade
but that, to me, is an untruth
joy is so often in the puddles
brevity and unspoken promises
to myself and also…

I question my loyalties lately
what have I subscribed to?
a clamor in my mind
telling me there is more, but also less
does it even matter in the long run?
are we always going to be too late
knocking, repeatedly at a door
one which is never simply left open
why don’t they hear
could our speech be incongruent?
or am I the only one who asks?
how far does love get a person?

it is what it is

nearing a last day
plus a reminder of what has been
what will be
one of those times, standing in the doorway
looking back and turning around to see
all that awaits

choices abound and still
I am bound by circumstance
a mix of the decisions of others
rules, broken rules, promises on top of what ifs
one who refuses to be moved so I decided to redecorate
I will hang curtains instead of renting a truck
I should add there’s a tinge of disappointment

does it make a difference though
if it’s all for me and not for naught
I am expecting exactly what I receive
which is a dangerous and dull way to proceed
all or nothing yet always something in-between
I am a grandiose mixture of the vastness
the beige near whites who gently mingle with brightness
only to pull back just in time
before all is revealed
would catastrophe be the worst
or simply the end followed by a beginning

I ask myself to name the current color of my heart
varies day to day, I reply
sometimes gray
clean like the Pottery Barn catalogue
neutrals on top of neutrals which I personally do not prefer
sometimes those jewel tones I enjoy at Christmas
I long to be shiny and bright, gold like a once treasured ring

my least favorite phrase is
it is what it is
and it’s repeated now on the daily
I disdain the lack of hope
and ask myself if I dare to
hope that is and I’m blasé
I consider if I’ve spent all my pocket change
am I indebted now to time
or if time will finally be my friend
doubtful, I continue
knowing I must, absolutely, accept acceptance

faith’s opposite is certainty
and my world is, anything but certain
meaning I must have faith in excess
funny because I don’t feel as though I do
I feel faithless or at least she of little

now I wish for a cold rain
I wish for a bitter chill. which is so unlike me but I am ready
or I tell myself that’s the case
ready to move forward
come darkness and wash over me
hide me until
I remember I’m lit from within
hope is not lost, it’s learned


Grief #1

Grief. Very real. Felt in my heart. Mind. Even within my body. I cannot pinpoint one loss. There are many. So many losses. A team with a losing season. Yet so much more. I cry when I allow myself to feel deeply. Otherwise. Well, I’m numb. Battered. Curious as to what war time was like. News from the battle. Only now we seem to be in the midst. The battle rages. Down the street. Inside our bodies. In my heart. I pray. Prayers of desperation. For the people I love most and for kids I don’t know. Also for kids I do. I wonder if justice will arrive. Like a good guy on horseback. Old west. Wild west sort of picture. But horses are for racing here and the show goes on. Actors play a part. Sound bites on media platforms. Those disavowing a team for stating their lives matter. Again, we prefer actors playing a part. Never, ever wanting to reach the source. The hate. The absolute, ugly, reprehensible hate. Which brings all the rest. Fear. Confusion. Unrest. And loss. Eventually death. Hence we grieve.

another Saturday morning

another Saturday morning
I deliberate as to my astuteness
what am I ready for
change has already come
I ponder my own acceptance
sure, I belong
but as what?
neighbor, friend, that nice lady
roles are listed, in outline form
roles are muted, cluttered
       as much like watercolors as metallic oils
I have learned so much
yet still have much to not just learn
but figure out
a great deal of muck to wade through
oh, mostly in my own mind
       not on paper
as far as a canvas
if I could paint my own life
as it currently is lived
beige with splats of lavender, fuchsia, violet
dullness with a side of urgency
wrecked beauty
which is what my world is just now
perfect moments surrounded by an awfulness
I grow, we grow, the wind blows
eventually we will overcome
the questions, will they be answered?
or will they ever linger like I do
light shines in my window
another Saturday morning
I note the breeze amidst the quiet
I miss the ordinary while realizing it never, ever was
meaning I miss what I never, ever had

stymied and abashed

nothing is ever exactly as it seems
which is perchance the cause of many complaints
dissatisfaction breeds contempt
as does familiarity
sometimes we hide from even ourselves
pretending all the while, we are well and adjusted and striving
except we are none of those
we are resentful and behind
clinging to an ideal
motioning ourselves to move
ever forward
all the while, politely declining
stymied and abashed


a photo wrecked me
one which I took
not much thought preceded
it made me cry
the next morning
aside from the objects
the two people captured
not on film because
well, camera photos are the trend
available in the immediate
it conjures up so many thoughts
why I do what I do
why I have done what I have done
will I continue
two girls
my own girl
have I conveyed what I set out to
apparently not
yet I strive
goals set again and again
I told her to find a mentor
she did
the other she has more than one
and the others
sure, many
I recall the urge
urgency perhaps
what I feel inside
a place deep within
real, near tangible
who I am
I said it
all I am
questions surface
is this a valid purpose
yet it is mine
partially, anyway
I have others as well
yet it all intertwines
into one
what will we become
me, her, us, them
I am challenged
grow, run, decide
valid emotions
recollections from years ago
who am I
who do I want to be
what do I desire
what can be
a better question yet
possibilities arise yet erode
my own capability
at times, fleeting
driven to escape

11.01 and 11.11

I wrote and wrote
seven pages
typed I should say
over and over
and I wonder
as I stated to my daughter
via phone
or is it phone
if I can see her face and her mine
why did I ever leave
why did I get in my Ford Tempo all those years ago
the car my dad bought me
and leave San Diego
why did I drive east
why not west, a few miles to the ocean and stop
refuse to continue
demand he come to me and we stay
instead I followed someone else’s dreams
a calling of sorts
haha and ha again
because what the hell is a calling
but I drove
east bound to my home town
then onward
and today
today I wrote seven pages
I already said that, I know
I came to some realizations
truth is truth and it eventually sets one
at what cost though
I have paid plenty
six years ago I knew
five years ago the finality
an envelope in the mail said it was through
just like I said
I am done
the plant is a sign
nature gives us our best signs and signals
in my opinion anyway
sun, moon, stars
today, a plant
yielding in a new season
it is also, nearly done
a step or two behind but she’ll get there
I should say the car my mom and dad bought me
my own expectations
of myself
they do not mesh
pass each other as they launch into the atmosphere
words never exchanged
I ended it
finality is brutal yet beautiful
I almost regret yet do not
what has to be
new realizations have emerged
juxtaposed with what I thought I knew
or believed
there is a difference
hope this time, has vanished
only reality remains
alone, I sit, stand, breath
hearken to my own analysis
I am done
though my heart has yet to accept
soon though, I will be free
it is in the knowing
when my heart can fully break
but, abruptly
I refuse to accept my own declaration
I drove
this time, the same direction, I think
no destination
just a road, any road, would do
so I took the available
crying, torn, scattered, angry, no music
despite the fact I listened over and over this morning
one song, one theme, one depth of knowing
all is ever changed
what I wrote last week
seven pages, so what
today I wrote as well
and I scream at myself, quietly
do not succumb to what I disdain
pray, eat, disregard another’s story
allow myself to feel, totality
the rain will turn to snow
if it is cold enough
I will turn to you
in hopes you understand
I should have never left
but it is too late
plants die as do callings
one more time
I will turn to you


and the streets are quiet
I run then walk my usual route
no kids or school busses
hardly any cars
Monday before
the rest of the year
new season, even though it’s hot like July
tentatively hopeful
cautiously optimistic
until the thoughts push through
I have a closet door I can’t get to close
I mean, in the literal
the door of my bedroom closet will not physically close
oh, if I rearranged and moved some items
gave away some clothes and tossed some shoes
but I am unwilling or too busy
preoccupied with other aspects of life
and besides
I like my shoes
I realize though
I do not shut the door
the closet of my mind where sadness lurks
where thoughts of gloom, and dare I say
creep not so subtly out
so why not do what I need to do
enable the door to close
shut the door and that line about the devil
keep the emotions at bay
perhaps because I am told
share, share, share
or I am afraid of the numbness
voices shout FEEL!
or mute, with help
but I am not willing to go the extreme
so I dabble and discuss
and though warned I had better alter
change, adapt, or deal
I skirt around and realize
maybe, just maybe
September is the month
not to surrender or let go or abandon
but to learn
to work
reorganize the tiny room where my deepest angst resides
ascertain where joy abides
I read this week
“hope is not a joke”
one more time, thank you, Vivien Goldman
“hope is not a joke”
I thought I had thrown it all away
the unnecessary clutter but maybe some of it
is not clutter but the cold hard facts
I argue with myself and sometimes them
but my daftness abounds
I realize though, I am too wise for this
once a smart girl, always
and I vow to preclude it all
I will tell summer bon voyage
and not accept hope with a grain of salt
September will usher in the calm
I will see to that
I will gently force the door to shut


and the beat goes on
the man said it this morning
loud and clear as I was turning my car around
window down
headed to my office
and the beat goes on
I ask myself the meaning
just a random man saying something random on a random day
something more
a message from the Universe
keep on keeping on
the beat
my heartbeat
ever, ever continuing even though broken again and again
the song in my mind
repeat and repeat
or a waltz, one-two-three
which is it?
anything besides, because I hope, desperately
the beat ceases
double bar line on the music sheet
it is over, done
next song, please
maybe this one a little faster? slower?
jazz or folk or anything but what we just played
I have no clue
why the man said it
why I happened by at the exact moment
to hear it
I’ve said it before, sadly, sarcastically
and the beat goes on
now I want anything but that particular beat
but the snare drum
the foot on the bass pedal
I want the music to stop altogether
for a season, a lifetime
the beat is too much
please God, let it stop
but, like the man said
it goes on
the beat goes on


my daughter, in casual conversation
labeled me a workaholic
and I balked
as in I paused, reflected
and denied in my mind
somewhat like a pitcher
until as of late
I consider
am I compulsive about my work?
overly committed?
work more hours than I should?
who knows the answer
yet it causes me to question
the example I am setting
to her to others to the girls
do I work too much?
do I take on too much?
do I have a choice?
of course we always have a choice
I pride myself in achievement
in progress and performance
hence the microphone
yet my reasons
are they right?
am I trying to prove
a point?
a victory for those like me?
I am unsure
it’s not really a fight
it is me
against no one
except maybe the thought
that I was never enough
I am not enough
in my mind and his so I strive
and never quit
someone has to because
he gave up
I deny calling
call it a label for the overtly eager
those who’ve been told they’re someone
the buffered, protected, amused
I am no ones muse
I stay so I do not have to deal
there I said it
I stay so she will have a way
I stay for her and her and her
and sometimes even the hims
so please do not question
motivation or reason
I overachieve
whether you care or not
my mother notices
and worries
my sister, obviously daughter
and friends
yet I strive, onward always
to prove if only to myself
I can


hope is in typing
words on a page
a wish unresolved
now but not never
so I wait
will it come true
or am I harboring joy for no reason
if and only
if you proclaim your cohesiveness
I will be obliged to alter
all of it
if you do not I am only what I am
as in today
so why not hope
beyond the typing and written
the subpar and ordinary
expounded upon due to circumstance
and basic necessity which only comes from
please, please comply
without hesitation
knowing what I know
in sync we will become
purposefully sound and true


two consecutive rainy Sundays
bookmarks between days
hopeful happenings
the realization of permanence
I look for change but so much is
life offers no guarantees
hopeful though
I challenge myself to look for joy
and it is not difficult to see
all around me
newness, beginnings, restarts
tulips and the familiarity of my own being
lost within the confines of fact and possibility
how many springs until I know
all the answers to the questions
or do I truly only want
a passageway to summer



baking bread
reading Richard Rohr, the priest
listening to Sandra McCracken, the musician
creating my own day
ever, always
who and what I am
then the “or” strikes me [creat
do I have to be either / or?
I note the question
all the questions
are answers required?
another question!
I tell myself, today, no
it’s Sunday, day of peace and all the above listed things
only be me, not either…not or


a reminder
when disappointment lingers
. . . yet the sun rises
bright, bold, telling me
hello, all is well
I absorb the light
the early bulbs who do not realize
it is not quite spring
. . .nature does not care what the date is
the sun does as it pleases
but with a sense of regularity
so why don’t I
the word
ever here telling me
sure, spring
but winter
bitter cold will come again
and again
despite the sun rising
. . .the constant argument in my mind
live / love / die inside
get on with it
this day
all the days
release them
freely towards the sky, one at a time
disappointments come, one by one
but so do the joys
secret, held close
wanting to prevail
live / love / repeat
forget the dying
history and hopes unspent
I am as real as the sun
a reminder
when disappointment lingers

I am as real as the sun


need to write
need to sing
need to play
need to run
so many need to’s
I accept and decline
and reaccept
like I do the weather
I have no control
or do I?
yes, yet again
I am a product of my own insight
my counterproductive thoughts
my ideas
how do I move past?
how do I immerse myself fully?
whilst writing, singing
playing, running
being me


you leave
and I pour myself some wine
wishing I wanted you to stay
yet relieved I don’t care
you don’t want to
will I ever be
something besides
who I am today
all the questions linger
yet nothingness resides
what I want is
becoming clear and clearer
I hasten the day I survive
will I ever be
something besides
who you want me to be
relentless is the harshness
the shadows present despite light
all the world is gray
absent is my desire
though a sense of longing illumines
will I ever be
something besides
who I am today


rain, cold in the street
I contemplate walking
then, obviously reconsider
who wants to walk in the rain?
walk to church
and back again
a form of discipline?
or just exercise
a means of self pride(?)
hopefully not just that
walking clears the mind
offers a distraction
makes me feel content
though cold and wet
I am very much awake
“feel the pain, then let it pass”
“yes, you’re cold, but you’ll soon be warm again”
“God has a plan…”
laughable thoughts / yet nothing is more serious
does anyone in the universe care if I walk or drive or stay home?
a smattering would offer their opinion I’m certain
yet it’s up to me
everyday it’s up to me
a difficulty worth considering
when the mundane and ordinary crosses into the life changing
standing in the crosswalk, alone
cold and wet yet very much alert
is where the answers come
so I walk


a morning to celebrate
little accomplishments
what once made me horribly anxious
I now handle in thirty minutes
and get on with it
an up and down week
with nothing to pin the sadness on
and so much to be joyful regarding
up and down like a mini roller coaster
no big highs and lows
but melancholy
I lean toward Vince Guaraldi
when describing my holiday mood
people scattered about
who need me
a little part of me
but not the entirety
bits and pieces of time
tiny moments in the midst of the whole
will I ever own the morning and night and morning again
today’s sun is there
powerful and hot
partially hidden
like so much
now I only feel the chill
today though is mine
in its entirety
so I celebrate
all I will discover
see, enjoy
gray and silver
inside and beyond


ask myself the questions
I do not like to answer
they are not yes / no
delve deep and explore
how far down, into the water can I dive
swim, swim, until
I have to shoot upward
into the sun again
get on the boat?
climb aboard?
or tread water
how long can I tread?
I saw land this week
the island, the beach, the place
through salty tears
just like the ocean
I saw it and dreamed
suddenly something made sense
order began to declutter
but, despite, it would mean so much

sometimes it rains, into the ocean
water falling from above into the vastness below
surrounded by gray and dark blue and bleakness
yet blue is calming and gray is “in”
and I cannot dispel the truth
I have swam too far
to only tread water
have I swam too far
to swim back to shore?
all the questions
I do not like to answer


reminded tonight
be thankful
even if
life is not perfect
still beautiful
glimpses despite
celebrate other’s victories
rejoice in my own
I am here
ever forward
with gratitude
the knowledge of what is
overshadows what could be
again, but
I cannot part with it
so I hold on
ever clinging
to the closest piece
I am my own
except that small segment
ever, always new
thankfully I utter
to God and myself
reminded, again
I will
and the other meaning
I will


{I took a walk}
came home
after unloading yet more
items moving from the old to the new
I needed a walk
just me
not so much for exercise
as for self care
so I entered
through the gate
the little street
I would describe as enchanting
very much me
at least as far as a place to walk
people who already have mums
drapes not blinds
commonality in preferences
I find them kindred spirits
although I do not dwell on their street
I entered {I repeat} through the gate
yet I don’t believe they mind
my admiration
flowers / bricks / stories
a life, created
which is what I’m foraging
along with my hodgepodge of plants and books
art supplies
guitars which are not mine yet are
I will become
more of what I already am
and for whatever reason
{I’m at peace with that}


2 flowers today
unexpected therefore surprise
today will be a day remembered
key day
first time ever just me
my chosen place
except there were 2 flowers this morning
which tells me something
unsure as to what
a reminder
I won’t say sign
tired of relying on perception
I choose now what I trust
I commit to myself, today
a period of time, an account to keep track of
I observe the facts and see there is joy
despite so very much
I finally don’t only endure
I move forward
thankful, grateful, hopeful

07.18 (2)

the in-between
is the clincher
what lingers yet never evolves
always present
a place with no wind
I grow, in the slightest
then recede into the vastness
the chasm of repetition
verse and chorus
and repeat
longing for the moments
sometimes eluding and the occasional reach
until a word spoken
broken bridge I cannot even see
rebuild means once built
and we never were
so I wait
in the in-between


my own fault
attempting to change
yet not
days pass
then weeks and months
the journal entries are the same
every few are an attempted boost
a self help encouragement
which does not last
I begin to ponder
if I can truly get out
I do not have to
yet I do
leave behind if only in my mind
the terror of loneliness which forebodes
I cannot have what I do not even want
and I do not want much of what I have
which is the crux
wanting is the ultimate
caring too much about what others want
I have learned not to consider me
though I am selfish nonetheless
in taking bits and pieces
ruining moments because I can
hurting and searching
desiring an answer
even if
yet no answer ever comes

except the boy who plays guitar married an artist

strangely that means something to me
regrets and the future…I am at a crossroads
I tell myself to be me
and to next time choose wisely
then I laugh because “next time?”
maybe it is not so much where but who
am I brave enough to find
or be found
always waiting then I stopped
and he returns in the midst
reminding me of where I came from
before, and way before
that which made me who I am
it’s raining
I wish for what I have not wished for in a while
and realize…
I abandoned me
probably the day I abandoned the boy who plays guitar


a Willie Nelson song
teacher, not doing well
old, used to fish with my dad
and now
I am afraid
of losing
the only semblance of stability
rationality amidst all the chaos
“you don’t need to color your hair”
told to me at 17
after heartbreak
words again at 28
even now
he doesn’t think I need to change
it’s him and him and him who aren’t enough
he’s the only one who has never left
I left
for the right reasons
normal and just
but he’s the rock that never ever changes
and I need to cling to that
yet the song tells me
and the passing of men who have precursors to their names
Coach and Mr
he asked the boy who came to the house if he liked Willie Nelson
I don’t recall his answer but I know he did not
maybe today he does…after the Marines and kids and life
who knows?
I know those we deem as faultless are not
I have learned that, yet
he’s the closest and I cannot
imagine the day when


my best days
are the ones spent
riding not driving
listening not talking
just being a part
what matters sticks with me and us
that which cannot be shaken
oh I can try to dodge and avoid and leave behind
but it follows me and will follow all of us
a strange and misshapen group of belong-ers
and so much in disarray
I want the space to be neat and tidy
my heart is not so why would the place be
my heart though is full in knowing
I can freely offer today, as I did yesterday
everyday I can instill a pattern
a connection or what I’d label a bond
we all grow
up or down or in-between and life moves
fluidly and at times it is dammed up
abruptly while at the same time constant
the best days are forgotten in the stream of familiarity
but also marked forever by love
because our hands or words or glance
made us one
nothing touches us deeper than a purpose
sincerity established upon angst
nothing divides the fiercely loved
we will prevail


awoke insipid
maybe even angry
yet pushed on
walk number one
music always helps
as in, hands on music
I played and my mood changed
but before that, I had walked some more
walk number two
I have little patience for the non walkers
yes that’s judgmental and yes they might have their reasons
I don’t care to hear
Sunday means words spoken into a microphone
and despite my proclivity to distrust most Sunday speakers
I think the world of mine
and today
today is for me
I will perhaps tell him in a day or so
but for now
I process
and realize
this day I chose to set apart for this very purpose
to process and now
I want to bawl but those who are hands on cannot pause
the band plays on, so to speak
so I wait
and walk home
I guess I’ll call it walk number 2 and a half
I cry a bit (kind of) and talk to myself a bit
do others walk down the sidewalk chattering to themselves?
I finally feel some relief
remarkably yet I fear
what about tomorrow?
how will I awake?
wrecked, confounded, free?
I hesitate
yet decide after a phone call and chores
to walk yet again
walk number three
I don’t consider it exercise
because it’s only walking
a total of six miles
is that far? not really
I’ve ran that far without stopping…maybe you have too
I know what I need and I know what I want
therefore, I must mesh the two
or change one but you can’t change what’s needed
I consider community
the word on my mind today
I walked through mine, 3 times
each time seeing something new
so much push and pull
for a neighborhood
mine yours his hers
does it matter?
I’ve read books which say, resolutely absolutely
yet I consider perhaps I am the same no matter
maybe actually more me somewhere else
or is here where I am to be
the only way to find is to seek
and I realized today that’s what I haven’t
oh I have dabbled but not yet gotten down to the seeking
where do I go?
the message of today
metaphorical and literal and a rather blatant reminder
my three Lenten words
I have lost focus
I am lacking therefore I decide to begin
right now in the familiar
though I imagine soon it will not be so
sameness yet a new day
March is the transition
winter into spring
what will transpire will inevitably inspire
I am actually cheerful
strangely awash in joy
could it simply be today’s sunshine
notes played?
or is it the future
I just need a place to walk


early hour
and I question
why cannot I sleep
the middle of the night hour
has been pushed
slowly forward
yet now
to return to sleep seems unnecessary
so I photograph my work
light some candles
drink my healthy drink
yet before
before I arose
I considered
and cried
asking God aloud
while listening to the rain
perhaps I am off track
yet it makes sense
maybe only to me
do you ever, ever consider?
too soon
too late
I remember
a thought, dream, pseudo vision
sorta not
sunshine and colors
happy faces
everyone a role to fill
except one and now
I wonder
if it all is right
reasonable but more
perfect in a worldly way
tied together with a bow
simple and elegant
what if I’m wrong
and even if right
should I allow myself to consider
that which means
in a very different way
road, path, journey
abrupt turn and a future
wholly, solely unlike
what I envisioned
what do I want?
ask God and he asks back
says my friend but I hear silence
so I ask again, aloud, since I’m alone
and I feel, somewhat steady
which is a relief
anything but total anguish though is a relief
why can’t I have what I see
the dream is beautiful
is it enough
my mind says it has to be, therefore
my heart knows the bittersweet
I do not want that day to be though
unfair to all
should I once again, hide the thought?
bury it and pretend
or release and see


what if I stop
writing about the particulars
pages and pages of journal entries
foreboding grief and questions
stop and only write about joy
what gives me joy
not hope
no ethereal tidbit based on nothing
but today’s joy
sharing work with a high schooler
showing him an aspect he knew nothing of
a walk for coffee with a friend
even in the bitter cold
baking cupcakes for a class
hearing a lady in the fabric store
planning to sew her own Easter dress
is that not fabulous?
that gives me joy
yards and yards of fleece
so kids can serve
a reminder pink was once
my favorite color
I can run
a beautiful daughter
bright, articulate, and she cares
so she is pained
yet there is joy in knowing she cares
a son as well
talented and witty and a support
though he might not realize
he has assumed a burden no one asks for
and I applaud from a distance
despite my loathing of January
all the questions unanswered
guns and judgement
I try to remember
the sun
happy news from a friend
what I know he needs desperately
provision in small degrees
opportunities and escapes
music in vast varieties
love, even though
joy knowing
I am not what I feel today
books written
bold grace
joy despite
all else


days come and go
but some linger
year after year
even if I skip a time or two
that something happened
a significant occurrence
which melded
formed within
a bond

no matter how hard we try
or desire to
the day cannot be erased
even with time
a day in the middle
in between
I remember
all of it lovely
so very me
a favorite place
today is far removed
the bond is broken
only memories remain
and two beautiful people, we created
plus a ring, now unworn
and I cry

I cry for so much more as well
so please, do not feel sorry
in regards to us
all is well in that venue
I do not miss or long for
but I remember nonetheless
a boy, a girl, a story
and hopes
I sometimes detest what I’ve become
because it, to some, equals failure
and my dad is a play to win kinda guy
my greatest wish much of the time to make him proud
which he is, I know
always, always on my side
even if I have doubted
my mother, my biggest cheerleader in youth
handed the baton to my children
who clap their hands in adoration

the story though
which began in January years ago
I was not the heroine
only a character, astoundingly
proudly I scream I should have been more
it doesn’t matter now
even though
the voices yell
not enough. not enough. not enough
never ever will be
so it seems

hope though
despite what I know as fact
I do not detest
only dislike
who and what we became
note I include myself
I am resilient
and capable
challenging anyone who believes
they are without fault
or not inclined to fall
because who would have ever thought
our story would end
like a Tolstoy novel
ends, dramatically
nothing at all like the boy and girl
on the swings, in the park
all those years ago
oh, don’t imagine
it can’t happen to you

I abhor the cold and long for
in January, the ocean
sun and beach bonfires
salt and sand and no inclination
the sky could ever yield snow
we should have never, ever
left the place
I was made for that place
I realize now, but yet too late
I am here, where we came
as you are
so long, too late

where do I belong
I whisper
back in the sunshine
or here
or elsewhere
I ask myself what I want
and the answer
compels me to swim
to a place before the day
in January
although I can’t quite
recollect the exactness
I strive, kicking, arms against the current
and see
a girl
not quite blond
smiling, hoping
we can play some music
and talk about Hemingway
I shoulda chosen
a boy who plays guitar
because that’s who always
chose me

a day in the library
so many days at the park
please write me a song
even though
I have strayed so far
from who I am
compliment my green eyes
funny he never did
never ever, ever did
did he not notice
or just not feel inclined
it matters not, today
only who matters today
yet to be
or never
I cannot discern
because we never, ever know
who and what come what may
don’t be deceived
I yell to the self righteous
and question those who reassure
he loves you not or not enough
never ever ever enough
the boy who plays guitar will always
play guitar
yet you will fail and so will she


run the gamut
does anyone say that?
I do, so someone does
my thoughts do just that
run the gamut
between yes and no
do and don’t
stay and go
be and whatever is the opposite
I am pulled
not with the wind
but between magnetic forces
which convince me
moment by moment
which is the right
which is the wrong
then reversed I begin again
how am I so indecisive
how am I so unsure
yet also at the exact time
so absolutely certain
I question my stability
my sense of urgency ensues
preaching to me
screaming my name
I have to be right
or else
yet cannot I wait until tomorrow
money and time and so many tears
all the pressure I place
upon myself
screams at me
you must do something
and you must not err
so I do nothing
out of fear of regret
even though
so I relinquish
if only in my mind
and take steps
telling myself it’s something
but is it?
doubtful I sleep then I wake up
seeking an answer
a clue, a sign, a beacon of hope
which comes yet I question
based on my latest whim
which is so much more than that
no one knows
Someone knows all
and I am awake
always, always awake
questioning why I bother
yet I know
and I hate myself for the why
yet I cheer myself on all the same
be me or become
am I stuck, submerged
or am I growing?
up and out and beautiful
what an odd scenario
yet to be normal
is to lose
to die
to bore
to fabricate
if I accept the ordinary
I submit to all I abhor
and that’s the crux
the meaning
the entirety
I have to be
doomed or adored
christened to fail
or destined
to succeed
what a word
I cling to
even though
hope makes absolutely no sense
it is a nonsense word
even though
I didn’t ask for this
it is mine
to bear, examine, evaluate
and muster the courage
to say
goodbye, hello, what if
all the answers
I detest and yet
are questions
only I
except You
can answer
so goodnight
good morning
I run the gamut


let go
two words
yet so awfully difficult
to muster the courage
seems impossible
yet I no longer cling
I undo my grasp
and although not tossing
I allow it/you/him/her/everything
to fall
none of the falling particles of my life
ever hit the ground
never quite manage to reach the floor
so perplexed
I wonder
if I’ve truly released
could I ever?
yet life has taught me
over and over
and yet again
life is only about relinquish
a white flag
clean while shouting to the opposite force
I am done
fighting, clinging, controlling
relax I whisper
oh to submit and be done
my stubbornness screams never give up
practicality differs
going so far as to close the door
my heart yearns for harmony
while vividly reminding
my song is a solo
as is everyones
in the ultimate

last day of October

autumn leaves on bricks
changes all around and I feel myself surrounded
the briskness of today
October, month of endings
year after year
but this day reminds me of the opposite
beginnings and continuing
belong, a manner in which
fill a role no one else
can I actually
yes, because I am
linking verb, holding together
stop trusting lines
time lines / outlines
believe only in circles
grace filled circles enabling me to progress


something I wrote
some months back
one of those moments
happy and sad and confused
all at the same time…
“life is full of stupid ironies
shit show messes…”
excerpts from my life
reminders I am human
we all are
emotion filled searchers
today is filled with contradictions
beautiful day
joy abounds
so much hurt
beyond comprehension
I feel
so much
which reminds me I am alive
present, so very present
removed as well
wanting to be
wanting to just be
hope is the word
in which I cling


going someplace
where’s the question
out of my head
down the street
all the prepositions
meaning a word governing
yet what do I govern?
at least not in a consecutive manner
more prepositions
words on words on words
and I contemplate
is there a where
my where
is the question, or?
either or, and or
or, or, or
do I have to decide, or
is it alright
a conjunction, connector
be a joiner
but I hate to join
I want to be free of all
which makes sense
actions unite
do something, anything
allowing something


last day of June
the month of birthdays
daughters and sisters
summer begins
sun shines
we celebrate
spend time with people
and listen
how do I do this
help me I don’t know
so I answer
unsure myself if I know
and then celebrate some more
the small triumphs
and cry over the defeats
if only in my mind
whisper into the bright morning
talking out loud as I run
yet no one hears
running harder, faster
into something while pretending it’s necessary
what if everything is pretend
except the warmth of the sun
and the driving, pouring rain
June is one or the other
sun or storm
contentment and bliss
perplexing utter sadness
a raging torrent never reaching a climax
then the sun shines again
and I know
this month ends today
yet the sun shines
in July even brighter
warmer, shall I say hot
hopefulness escalates
because to not hope is to barely exist
and I want more than existence
sisters and daughters, though not like June’s
to celebrate once more
so we roll into another day
rejoicing in summer
yet not forgetting
today, the last day of June


when lost
do you try with all your might
to run
find a way out
a way home
or do you sit tight
waiting for a rescue
someone to come
carry you out
to safety and familiarity
seek and find
or wait and see
all on me
consider surrender
strength, I see in both
freedom to choose, overcome
power to be still, allow oneself
to submit
when lost
how do I respond
all on me
or white flag
announcing I am ready
to be driven home


God, this day
in the midst of everything
between Palm Sunday and Death
celebration and despair
between hope and fear
it’s a regular day
yet in two days
meal shared
the course of eternity set
only darkness
sudden loss
yet this day
I know the rest of the week
then Friday
the silence of Saturday
nothing quiet
but Sunday
the day of change
final reconciliation
we are complete
therefore joy
a sudden realization that today, Tuesday, is ordinary
yet divine

screaming quietly in my mind
who and what I owe
never ending so I long to run
freedom means loyalty to self
where is that place
far away
or right here
losing myself quickly
fight ensues
me and myself
more than right and wrong
decisive loses every time
and I cry
yet I wish for
no obligation
only choice
never ending
run to nowhere
oblige myself


still winter
obtrusively by thought
though daffodils
it’s still winter
the record shows
my formidable plan deterred
not time
readiness is necessary
to some yet not to me
measures might be in order
if and when
yet still
all is silent
because truthfully there is no need
celebration is premature
winter lingers despite
reminded, I cannot know
until then

voided fear

hope is voided fear
stepped over
passed by
not necessary or needed is fear
hope is seeing the best
purer than love, maybe?
since love has its obligations and responsibilities
fear sabotages
unlocks a door to nowhere
vast and seemingly endless
hope, just is
a wish for the best
an expectation of positivity
circumstances equalling a bright future
cherish hope
it’s all we have
anoint hope as a saintly prize
to hope is to achieve
and in accomplishment, becoming
something beyond today
belonging to a future time
we hope together
even in separateness
all that is to come
triumph over fear


winter of our
…not quite joy
yet hope, nonetheless
frozen bitterness breaks
will there be a day?
free of all which lingers
unkempt, unwell
astounding surprise
given not as a gift
but a resolution
let go, release
stop caring so you can care again
winter of our
soon to be content

bowl of shells

a bowl of shells on my table
centerpiece of sorts
white, brown, gray
natural as can or could be
I keep them
as a reminder?
keepsake of a summer day
I don’t remember where or when
a collection of once
or many days
different shapes
referencing the larger, whole
universe of living beings
or just a bowl of shells
on my table
alluding to sunshine and salt
which as of this moment are not near
far away in place and form
do I find more?
seek the ever beating waves
or realize it is beyond
behind and not returning
so note only a bowl of shells
nothing more

free yet detoured

surprised by incongruity

when did I become this?

dependent yet alone

no one is here to lean on

not one person I could ask

assist, please? could you?

no, I don’t bother

I’d rather not, thanks

I prefer what I am which is

undetoured by the confusions


walk away or walk toward

it matters but it doesn’t

because there is no direction

no one reads any rules

since there is no one

there are no rules

yet I have my set

those which hold me

present though sometimes a step



it’s settled

I’m unsettled

can we settle this?

once and for all

set it aside

it being us or him and her

the setting for a story

set up for a fall

ready set go

yet go where?

set up to fail

game set match

is it a game?

were we a match?

are we a match?

just settle down

get to the bottom of it

settle the case

there is no reset


so it will never

be settled

or maybe it will be

we’ll settle it when


wait until

the weather is warmer

the holidays have past

I have time

she waits for an answer, my friend

another she in my life waits for something else

and me, I wait too

someone on the other side must be waiting as well?

await a response



plan to be laid out

how long is reasonable?

is it worth the wait?

whatever it is

meantime, wait while waiting?

a procrastinator’s dream

waiting is just that

no need to act today

hurry up and

waiting game, an odd term

wait for someone who will never arrive

like Godot

wait on God

keep a distance

arms length

until we know for certain

wait until

follow me

just listen

no questions or worries

follow me

I have never taken the lead

yet this time, let me

follow me

I can see it

plain as day

follow me

there’s music there

always music

follow me

words, sometimes

even if no one else comprehends

follow me

don’t fear

all will be well

follow me

we belong

together where

follow me

only then

the story begins

follow me