Grey Wind

I wrote this over a month ago, and just found it in a jounal.

 11-9-12 
Come follow mw
into the colors we've never seen.
so closely.
Chase me and run
head first into nothing that is familiar.
The grey wind is shaking my family tree
Strong and fierce as I've ever seen
tearing pieces away...
But stand under it with me.
Under the cascading orange and red leaves
a cool rain of fire
we can dance in
and never be burned.
Come follow me
after the vivid storm is calmed
and blue white ice
covers the ground.
It's hard, so don't let me fall alone.
Don't be unsure of me.
Don't take me away only to leave.
I have been left shaking before.
Darling, when the grey wind comes for us
don't let go.

12-15-12

I've found it.
The subtle sway of time and reality
across the worn wooden floor of the world.
I caught it.
The sweetly secretive glance
no one but myself saw.
I wished it.
For only a moment and a half
to be there.
I kept it.
That memory of tall grass
under sticky sunlight.
I'm lost again.
Vying for validation here
where I don't fit the mold.
I can't hear.
The screams for attention
fall on my deafening ears.
I'm thirsty.
A growing soul
in a rock garden world.

I'm Not Me

Call me skitso. This is written to both side of me who often get into arguments about who I am becoming. 

12-8-12
I wish I could throw myself to the wind
and let her take me where she wills.
away from the expectation and plans.
Away from the eyes always watching
ever sliding up and down me
and my life.
I wish I could take for one moment
my own ideas and self
and instill in them
strength,
enough to last the winter.
For winter's cold harsh icyness
will give my sureless self
a testing blow.
Blow, the winds can and will.
Break me, they may try.
I'm not who I am!
I'm hodgepodge and jacked.
cracked and scarred.
What else did you expect?
I'm not sure what I want,
but I know what I don't.
My reflection lately has been hazy and unclear.
Are those my eyes, or just stars?
Are these my hands,
or tools of another man?
My fashion and taste
doesn't fit a type.
The words I say and how,
may not be restricted to a locale.
I like Diet Coke and lipstick.
I like being alone, but I get lonely.
Who is behind my mind, telling me what to read?
Who cares?
I'm going to be me,
because I'm not you.
So as far as you are concerned,
I'm not me. 

Give Me A Hand

Take a walk with me, would you please?
A short one as far as I can tell.
Just walk me to the gate of memory's lane
and leave me there.
I don't want to tread fast, or far...
Remind me I'm real.
That unaware was real
not reality.
That I've had a past.
That what my mind recalls
actually happened
once upon a time.
I'm not asking for very much,
understand,
I can't do it alone.
I just need a hand
to hold mine tight
in that moment when
darkness falls and I want
to turn back.
Don't say a word,
just keep me walking.
Don't whisper anything sweet,
just keep me walking.
Don't kiss my hand or cheek,
just keep me walking.
You can't follow me past there,
it's my own way to go.
Just give me a hand.

No Avonlea

Homeless looks different from the inside.
it's not a physical state, I've discovered.
It's not the lack of a roof overhead,
or the absence of a room, bed, pillow,
warmth, cool, clean...
I've found that it's not the need,
Though certainly not forgetting the need,
of the physical.
It's a state of being.
The state of being without a haven.
Haven and home imply something less finite.
They imply a belonging.
A trust and knowing.
That intimate place inside of me that
hungrily calls to those like me,
and those unlike me
for refuge.
It's that feeling I got
when Anne goes back to Avonlea
in the 4th book
and nothing is the same.
My Avonlea is gone.
I've always hated the point in stories
where nowhere is safe.
Living that chapter of my own story
is worse than reading a fictional one.

Drunken Aware

Just pour me another glass of soul wine
and I'll let you see inside
the carefully-hidden, broken pain.
Look but don't touch, please.
At the first sign of danger I'll pick up
and run.
Don't take offense, please.
You didn't mean what you said with your eyes.
But I've seen them before,
and that time maybe it was meant.
I won't be there again.
Pour me another shot of your voice.
Fill me with your nearlessness
until I'm as drunk as I wish I was.
Don't wake me sober, please.
Just let me tumble
into this happy, unaware.
Kill me with this reality's potent whiskey.
until there is more of you
then life and blood
in my veins.
How it would kill to remain.

Narnia and Neverland

I can't do this.
My flesh is so weak,
and I miss her so much.
I can remember when I'd lie in bed
late at night
always watched by my star.
The one hanging right above the Maple tree.
Maybe I never really believed it,
but I wanted to.
That it was her and she could see.
She was watching my tears fall
and they were joined with hers way up there.
But then life happened
and it was all gone before I could say
"Neverland".
Oh how I wish I could find Neverland.
I do believe in fairies! I do!
but first I'd need a time machine.
I wouldn't want to stay this me forever.
Take me back to saddle shoes and
dandelion wishes.
Back when I could spend hours telling myself stories
about Narnia, 
the world inside my sandbox.
She skipped inside to warm her grass-stained
icy feet.
That little girl never suspected
that someday she'd be the one in a strange, war torn world...
and the wardrobe was about to close.
She'd be forever unable to return to the Lamp Post.
Home and Safe were normal.
I can't do this.
My flesh is so weak!
Give me arms or an escape.
Can't my dreams be more
than just night time torture?
Beauty and  Death
tangled so inseparably...
unutterably clear and misty when I do see her...
like the sky right before night sweeps in.
She never stays long...
just long enough to tuck the night it,
kiss the top of my head,
and tell me that Mama's here.
On the tip of my tongue
my lifetime of questions, answers, and love.
But before my stubborn lips can move...
Gone.
No Neverland.
No Narnia tonight.
Just the stars, and me on this boathouse.
As close as I can get for now.

The Sea's Song

The water is shifting
in such vague brilliance.
swinging and slipping over it's own body
in strides for shores far.
the shifting unknown of the surface below
makes me nervous and
unwilling to trust it's heart
with mine.
impossible to tell what it's hiding,
undesired secrets forced upon it by time.
Sailors love the fear they keep of it,
longing always to be close,
to be a part of it.
Wild in nature
and loyal by the moon a stars
I want to lose myself
and be swept away into it's arms.
Held by the chill depths
to fall asleep with the sailors
who've gone before me.
Their memories filling my own.
Their loves now lost
to such a cruel ocean mistress.
It is their song being sung by the wind
crying lighting storms
of deep sorrow for souls lost.
I just want to harmonize with their anthem.
And add my lyrics to the chorus.

Closer to Him

  If he's the God
 of wind and rain
then I'm closest to him
when I'm being battered
and torn by the wild storm.
If when his children were wandering
refugees from Egypt,
clouds by day guided them
and fire by night...
When I'm in the middle of a blaze,
I'm closest to him there.
He walked on water,
so when I am starting to drown,
I can barely touch his feet...
but he is near.
In utter silence when I'm alone,
he's the air,
the sun,
ground I'm standing on.
I'm never alone here
created for his glory.
And standing by his love.

Sea Sailing

What if I let it all go
and sailed with the moon for a while?
Would anyone miss me enough
to come and fly too?
to leave the world on the ground and keep my
heart safe up with me in the sky's depths...
melting into the paper thin clouds
becoming one of the sea's friends
as I catch my reflection in it's eyes.
Just me and the water above and below.
tracing my finger along it's silver surface,
it caresses me in return.
salt and air filling my senses
with pure white noise
until there isn't room for the crazy chaos
of land.
on the bow of my vessel
I'll stand alone.
daring the ocean tides to take me anywhere.
There's no place left that can strike me with fear,
the unknown being a thrill to the beholder.
the bare plains of flat nothing,
the inclement icy depths of the north,
careless dancing trees and winds.
angel's singing my theme,
while I strain to pick out the one I miss the most...
the rush of chase
and chance...
being the power in my sails.

Flickering Wonderings

July 21, 2012
Wildly inanimate
is where I lay with my thoughts.
chasing rain
and running away from, the thunder.
Dreams tease and taunt
with their sunshine and smiles.
When reality wakes
and sends night packing again,
I cinch up my soul
and keep walking.
I want to pick up quiet,
take my time
and not let hurried steps and words
transpose this melody too quickly.
That shared hope
and quick smile of yours...
color approaching,
yet undecided.
Flickering wonderings,
somehow kill my reason.
Revived only when I stop,
think,
and hold fast to the unknown fears.
If afraid of everything,
nothing can scare me.
fearless boldness
frightens me more
than any nightmare.

Wholly Broken

I've always wanted to stand
but the shifting tides
of change and pain
have made my grounds unsteady.
I've always wanted to grow,
but the darkened rainless sky
over me
never gave me warmth.
I wanted to fly,
but the ropes and chains
entangling my hands
never allowed me to reach
to the ocean wind
and let it take me.
Drifting, but drowning.
Trapped and trampled.
Running never gave me anything
but empty lungs.
selling myself only earned me
a brittle heart.
I wondered how peace could be so close
and let so very far away.
Within grasp,
but out of reach.
My screams never fell of deaf ears,
but I didn't know
how to accept the embrace offered every moment.
When loss ripped through my being
it took everything I had.
and it took everything I had, gone,
to make me see what I needed.
Surrender.
It made no sense
to give myself
when I had nothing left.
but now it does.
He didn't want what I had.
He just wanted me.
wholly broken and empty,
so He could show his power
and grace and mighty love
when I rose up off my knees,
a new creation,
finally a loved daughter and bride. 

Mom's Poetry

I've been going through some of Mom's old poetry she wrote in High School and College, and decided to post a few of them. :)

-You My Child-

You, my child,

Are yet unborn,

Still only thought of and dreamed over.

Thought still unconceived

I can see you in my mind.

You, my child, are

A fulfillment of a promise.

A promise made in love and happiness.

You have an enormous task to complete,

But I know you can finish

Because you are the echo of me.

You, my child, and God together…

One with the other and in the other

He will guide

And protect you from

Any harm that might reach from the shadows.

My baby, you are the completion of a friendship,

 So even now I might tell you,

 I love you,

And I trust you with my promise

all origional

-Untitled-

I want to write a song

And make everything alright.

A song of love and happiness

That would chase away the night.

I want to write a song and

Tell you that I care.

A song filled with gentleness

Soft as flowing air.

I want to write a song

That will erase the past.

A song that can’t be forgotten

Because it seems to last and last.

I want to write a song

And change what soon must be.

A song that doesn’t say goodbye,

And admits that you are free.

But I can’t write a song,

That wasn’t meant to play,

Or change the future

Because I don’t like today

Concrete Memories

It’s so strange… viewing you as a real person.

You dreamed, and hurt.

You fell, fast and hard,

And got burned.

You had friends, and enemies.

You had hopes, and almost loves.

You had crushes, and wishes.

Just like me.

You were real.

I wish I could ask you now,

Who did you mean?

Why were you so sad?

All of those stories

That I will never hear now,

The dreams I wish you could have

 passed down

to me.

I know there is so much of you in me…

But I wish I knew which parts.

The parts of you

You didn’t talk about with anyone.

But I think you would have with me

Over a cup of coffee,

Early in the morning.

Or on the edge of my bed,

Late at night.

You’d be happy to see me

When I come home,

 And I’d always know there was a safe place

To land, when my wings are tired.

I guess someday you will.

I’ll fly to your arms,

 And never be tired or lonesome,

Or wish for anything ever again.

It’ll be the perfect reunion.

There

June 15, 2012

Singing at the top of my lungs

I went there today.

Letting the warm windiness

Carry the tear slipping down my face away.

Thinking of everything but what waited

I went there today.

Pretending it was just another

Shade edged gravel road.

Another day.

There.

A place that holds no significance

But feels like maybe it might.

I can’t help it.

It draws me like a bee

To a flower picked yesterday.

Disappointed,

But I knew all along.

It’s just a stone of remembrance.

Peaceful,

A hill to the valley.

The swaying, listening trees

The only company I’ve got today.

I asked you why I came there today.

The granite isn’t you.

The grass isn’t your hair.

The earth isn’t your skin.

The graven, hard sunk letters

Are not your words.

But it’s your name.

And mine.

Remembered

When I’m miles away,

It’s etched on my fingertips.

I will make you proud.

Rising from my knees

I know I have to go.

There is no reason to stay

There.

So thus with a kiss…

I return to the normal we’ve become.

A few tears lighter,

A few promises heavier.

Thunder Blue

June 17, 2012

Thunder blue

Cast over the room

As the storm strums the tune

Of missing

On the time worn shingles overhead.

The air is heavy on my skin

And the rain like lighting points,

Fingers of pain and joy

In one powerful hand.

Not sure why this makes me lonesome…

Maybe because rain is always the same?

One drop very much like the next

And storms are made up of them.

Drops of memory.

Running as fast as a tiny girl could,

Up the hill with my plastic blue wagon in tow.

Dancing around,

Splashing in the puddles while mama watched from the porch.

Feeling those first drops

As he wrapped his fingers around mine…

Getting soaked and not caring.

Dancing,

Flirting,

Wishing…

And then kissing.

Under those same familiar flashes and roars…

Maybe that’s why all my storm memories

Are painted thunder blue.

And no one should be Thunder blue alone.

Dusk Thoughts

April 20, 2012

I’m on a walk tonight

Trying to satisfy the stirring restlessness

In me.

It’s not helping,

Cause everything reminds me of

Home.

The drifting, cool air

Breathing on my feet,

And the California sun

Disappears to the next horizon

Leaving me in

Dusk.

Dust

On the lilac leaves

And their pure purple scent

Sweeter than anything I could capture.

The happy screams

Of the little

sun-kissed

Pigtailed girl

Running free

With her brothers in tow.

The lulling sound of train on tracks.

Always going the same direction.

The white rose

Being kissed by the rosy light

Leaving for the night.

The heavy

Green

Air

 of newly mowed lawn.

I remember hide and seek,

Barefeet,

And the call to come in.

What could I give to hear that call

One more time.

The call to come  home.

To go to bed,

Safe and sound

Under the careful love

And tender tones

Of her voice.

I’m torn.

Open.

Needing.

Wondering.

So this walk didn’t help.

But I can watch the reaching arms

Of the orange trees

Give a friendly goodbye to the day’s last night.

And say goodnight

To the moon that isn’t out tonight.

And Pray

From my heart

To His.

Asking Him to give her a hug.

I’ll be home soon enough

To do it myself.

After my long allotted years are lived and loved,

And the stops along the way have left their

Marks and misses. 

That's the next time I'll hear

that call to come in. 

and it will be so sweet and welcome.