I’m still afraid.
Several months ago, I stopped writing. I allowed attacks, accusations, and endless bombardment to stall me. To fill my head with worry that my words would be used against me during each encounter.
My words hurled as proof of my inadequacies. My lack of resilience. My failures.
I’ve decided it’s no longer my job to fear interpretations or retribution. This is my space, my sanctuary and I’m taking it back.
And yet, you choose to defend
With blind eyes and closed ears
Ignoring your Truth.
Hope seeps through your fractured heart.
Slowed evermore by Should, like
Sand, those tiny glistening bits of quartz,
clogging all sense
Drawing a line between protecting and sacrificing,
Your search is endless and meaningless.
Blanketed by Ought, and held out of reach
By your own hand.
Extending forever outward in all directions
Never to realize
Nor to accept
Each dream, each desire stems from within.
| CLOSE | SAND | DEFEND | STEM | LINE |
-Weekly Writing Challenge #163 Poetry from the secret keeper
I’m very excited to share my article published this morning with A Fine Parent, parenting blog, focusing on becoming better versions of ourselves as parents. I’ve loved working with them and being a part of their mission.
Rugby is my kind of sport. Damn.
I spend a lot of time in parking lots
but really most likely
I spend a lot of time
in empty lots
early in the morning
save for the sad few that
park and sit and wait
wait for clarity
wait for decision
wait for answers
vast empty spaces
have no answers
bulldozed and covered in an layer of asphalt
they only offer a place to sit
a place to wait
a place for nothing
a place to observe the emptiness
even when they’re full
sitting with the sad few
we park on opposite ends
avoid eye contact
avoid each other
avoid acknowledging that we’ve gathered
to be sad
lightning splintering jagged
edge to edge
Not quite shards,
New space created
One to many
With hope and
Not quite shards,
Rumbling trucks pass by
Rattle the smallest piece
A glinting shower
All shards now
And an empty
I am not a willow
It seems our agreement shifted. And if I wanted to I would. If I believed anything other than the past would repeat itself, I’d behave differently. If I had it in me, I’d be right back on board. But,
I don’t have it in me. I don’t believe anything other than the past will repeat itself. In my deepest depths, recesses of my heart and mind, all my hidden coves, I know that nothing will change. I know that I will go through this over and over until I’m completely destroyed. Angry. Hateful. Resentful. Incapable.
And that’s not who I want to be. Not who I am. Not a person I’m willing to become.
I believe in goodness, in love. I believe in awareness, in knowing when you’re done, in trusting to know when we’ve reached an impasse.
It’s not that your aren’t worth it. You are my greatest love. You are everything I hoped and ever wanted. You are a kaleidoscope.
But I have scar tissue built up around my ability to go back. It’s marbled, knobby, held fast. I can see no, feel no, believe no other way.
The distance stretched too far this time. My heart is hardened. My hope proved insufficient. Asking for work, effort, belief, is out of the question. I’m tired. And I can’t.
Not a shade
And most certainly