The shift of laughter breaking, like waves upon a jetty
When a lifetime of jagged right angles shifts to the world being perfectly round
And the answer to every question is, why not
Entirely untethered, wretched, and beautiful
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Her worn red suede boots kept an odd rhythm upon the uneven sidewalk, her stride broken into a strange saunter to accomidate the accumulated scar tissue her body housed. The near ocean air swept crazy tendrils across her faint smile, as her arm cradled her evenings companion, a svelte body of celebratory bubbly, something significant was in her sights, and the walk home had a particular sweet meloncholy.
The time was now, this shifting drifter to once again take flight, take up residance in a new town, and allow the next chapter to write itself. Her departure shall coincide with the day her most beloved left her to take a dirt nap in the bone orchard, the symbolism was not lost on her.
Though she would miss all she could count on in her current existance, it had become so very predictable, and that had no appeal to her any longer. She was not the type of gal who wanted to have more than a vague inclination as to what each day would hold, she enjoyed the spark of mystery, and for some time, that has dwindled to mearly a burning ember at best.
The time was now, the destination, a sleepy country town she never heard of, to find something that she seemed to have lost. Soon, the days will grow longer, the night sounds will chatter louder, and warmth will muscle out the old cold, and she will find herself ambling along country roads by foot or bicycle, drinking it all in, savoring the newness, and turning many corners, to find what comes next.
I wish to press
My very being against you
We know, but we don’t
Strangers, but not so
I crave the nearness of you
And I dare not to care
Time and distance hold nothing on desire.
The universe has careened wrecklesly past hearts
And yet I shall not be torn asunder
To drown in convention
You, this lovely mystery
I implore you
To not think, just do
And find me amongst the sea of many
As my eyes and lips seek you out
I strangely trust in you
And somehow know
You shall not disappoint
The summation of our lives is not built in days ticked off on a calender, or the accumulation of items, but rather the culmination of moments well spent. The ache of many belly laughs, and the starkness of loss. The snap of many lovely mental photographs, and the break of many brittle tears. One should always be in wonder of the depth and breadth of the human heart.
Could one ever dare to hope, that when they have gone to pass, that others shall say in quiet admiration, There was a life well lived! To have sifted through the rubble and still yet found their heart, beating ferociously, ready for the next round, that, that to me, is the mark of greatness. To be so brazen as to soldier on despite the pain, striving for the next bright, bold, brilliant moment to bank deep within ones soul, it is the brass ring, grasp it if you dare.
My dearest of friends once wrote to me ” You have surpassed holding a place in my heart, because hearts are fickle, they can be broken, and each one eventually ceases to be. You have a home in my soul”. Our hearts are both tough and lovely, allow sunshine to stream through it, even when it feels cold and grey, the darkness is temporary, I promise, and your soul shall follow.
She knew him to be a mere blip on the radar of the heart, one who wished to stifle her , though his attempts to be in vein, she was still yet she.
He fought to own her heart, yet she stood fast, never allowing the unwelcome to draw her usunder, as she knew she was more than he, never to be owned, never to be tethered to the unhealthy fragments he gave in burnt offerings.
She repelled, gaining strength in all he wished to own and shred to bits in his sick torment. She became more than he,and that tore at his misaligned needs in the worst of ways.
She fell away, and into her own place and space,and that was not well recieved, though she grew to dare not care, she knew she had grown to become something other, despite his svengali attempts to own and rule. She sliped slowly and gently into her own pleasant rhythm, against the outcry of many.
She walked alone, happily and content , in her own sphere of sheer delight, for once being the captain of her own ship, casting her radiant glow random, happily, and without apology, for she had come to learn, and accept, and best yet, embrace who she truly was, despite misguided efforts of others who wished to derail her forward motion.
Today,and each day to come, she knew that her decisions, her hearts desire and all that will come to be, shall be despite others wishes, for today, she began to live her life despite others wishes, this was her chance to make her mark, and to be ever proud of all that had become, and shall be.
You spend these moments
Wanting
Wishing
Waiting
Feeling it all gnawing at your core
the sinew
of you
with thoughts desirous
clenching with longing
to be willing to wonder
and to have
and be had
this is what propels the naked self
to turn the corner
and peek at that which lays before
this knowledge of need
* I would like to begin by saying that by having written this, I will in fact upset a good many people. Mind you, that was the last thing I wish to do, however, every writer knows, you have to remain true to yourself in order to retain integrity, both in yourself and that what you compose. I apologize in advance if my words offend you, the reader, for any reason, however, I long since stopped apologizing for myself, and I am not about to begin now…
I’m sure I am not alone when my answer to the question, ” what were you like as a kid…” is met with the words, awkward, unpopular, bullied,…. and the list could go on and on, but you get my drift. I was never comfortable amongst my other school mates, and usually the object of much ridicule. I didn’t have the same interests as the other kids, I liked books and music, plays and off the beaten path films, I wore thrift shop clothes ( WAY before the days of thrift shopping actually being cool, then, it was, well, gross ), had an unusual family and I always got along with the boys in the neighborhood far better than the girls.
I found girls to be untrustworthy, scathing, vapid, self serving, you know, the kind where you stepped in deeper puddles. Girls talked about you behind your back and were quick to gang up on you. I had a few gal pals growing up, so I wasn’t completely without female commeraderie, how ever, looking back, I usually preferred to spend time alone. After all, that was the best way to listen to records, read books, or go exploring on your bike!
As the onset of painful teenage years came to roost, I got to really know, as Warren Zevon so eloquently put it, Splendid Isolation. I went to a military high school that has less than 200 students, so the blaring neon sign on my back that simply stated, NOT COOL was wonderfully even more visable! High school proved to be a punishing 4 years, but also, I began to learn to stick to my guns a bit more towards the end, having made some marvelously outrageous friends that didn’t march to their own tune, they moshed, thrashed, body slammed, and spewed poetry like fast growing vines. But again, I was, as I came to later call it, a ” Fringe Dweller “, never really in the mix of it, more like a voyeur. I loved to wander off in my car with music blaring and a journal in my passenger seat, so much so, that when I graduated, I wandered right out of state and onto Nantucket Island in lue of going to college. I knew that structered, spoon fed learning enviroments were not for me, as I told my folks when I was about 16 or so, I wasn’t going to be a typical daughter, I didn’t want to go to college, get married and have a bunch of children, that it was better they knew this now. They both blinked at me for a few moments, then asked me what my plans were, I said, none, that I had decided to go to the college of Life, and I would figure it out along the way.
I spent a wonderful Spring and Summer in Nantucket, turning the age of 19 without my family was awful lonely, I hadn’t really made any attempts to make friends on the island, So I took an older lover,a writer, and worked and wrote and of course, listened to a boat load of music.
I was the kinda gal who read the liner notes, who could tell you what side and what track number a song was. Music was always my ultimate fascination, even my favorite line from my favorite nursery rhyme as a child was ” And she shall have music wherever she goes”, still my idea of true bliss, so much so that I aquired a tattoo of music notes dripping down the inside of my left ankle. There is nothing about music that doesn’t thrill me to my core, and that will only change when I have gone to take my dirt nap in the bone orchard. Guess that’s the trademark of ” We, the Music Heads “, music is our best friend.
Into my 20’s, living with an older fella who had the money and called the shots, so when I wasn’t working, I was with him and his friends and family ( I didn’t actually begin to grow a spine till my very late 20’s ) and for the most part, I was fine with that. I had a gal pal who I now see rather enjoyed my social awkward ways, it made her look cool, so we hung out. And it was with her I met the best friend I ever had, his name was Ian, remember that name, it will come up quite a bit later, as not only was he my best friend, but the catalyst for the telling of this story and how I came to be the person who worked up the courage to write about all that made me step out of the In Crowd. Somehow, along the way, I had turned socially awkward into socially acceptable, and found myself with the In Crowd, and many may wish to shoot me for what I about to say, but as of recent, I want out.
I sleep, clawing and catching, protecting myself, violently
The only sound is of an unsettled body
Awaking in a sheen of shattered sweat
The prospect of slumber is nervous
Always willing the quiet of dreams unremembered
As the darkness holds other monsters
I am bound by nothing,
inhabitions have no hold upon me.
Songs slide up my spine,
and leave my limbs loose.
I shimmy and sway,
and the smile on my lips tell of my joy.
The room goes all soft focus,
and all other sounds ebb.
I do not think,
just move.
When I was a little girl, you were my big hero. You never raised your voice or your hand, just helped to raise your baby sister. I have within me hundreds of memories of our childhood, all banked safely in my heart, these are my favorite gifts you gave me through out the years. Be it the many times you wiped my tears, spoiled me rotten, or listened to me and answered my many questions, these things will always remain precious to me.
We are older, yet you still take the time to take care of me, and for this, I know I am blessed. For all of the times you have held me up in some of my darker moments, I have had the chance to do the same for you, and I always will. We do not judge one another, we rely on one another, we laugh at and with each another. We rejoice in each others triumphs and mourn together with our heart aches. We are grown, but never to grow apart. For with the culmination of years, we are more than merely brother and sister, we are friends, true blue.
Now you are a husband and a father, and my heart often swells with pride at the small moments I am privy to. You share that part of your life with me, and in turn, I can share our childhood memories with your children. And sometimes, when you and I get a quiet moment to sit and talk, I often marvel at your honesty and integrity.
This year for Christmas, I intend to be certain you know just how proud I am for all that you do and all that you are. We may no longer be children, but you must know that you always have been, and always will be my hero.
Big brother, I love you!
Unedited, writing in the raw 