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.
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.
Each piece you hand out may never return. Giving it all away so freely, you must know dangers await. Without a string attached, it won’t know to return. How will you have more than what you’ve got, if you’re slapping it in the hand of every stranger that walks by?
Surely, you could take more care. Keep it closer. Dole it out, once worth has been assessed? It’ll all be gone and you’ll be left empty handed. Hollow-hearted. Weak and sad.
I keep all of mine in here. See? It’s just there. In that pile. Waiting. For the right time. The right one. The one that deserves it. Earned it. Needs it. I’ll be fine sitting here, watching you empty of your abundance.
Fine, go. All I need is just there. Under that layer of dust. Beneath the lost and lonely. Don’t worry, I know what to do. While you dump yours all over, I’ll have mine right here. Close and always waiting.
A driving force for unrelenting
Say it enough and it’s meaningless
Say it enough and it ceases to be
Notions for when it’s too late to change
When the results are in
And everyone you love is gone
When there’s nothing to be done
A story where I write about you, but you’re covered in changes.
With enough rearranges,
That someone could believe,
At least, a bit more than me.
A story where I write about you, but as tiny rabbit.
Hit by a car, truck, or train.
And all I can see is the skewed
View from the street.
Heatwaves and blood.
Gristle and bone,
A story where I write about you, but you’re not such a dick.
You climb from the contraption,
Just to see what happened.
Spot the small bunny with eyeballs loose,
A story where I write about you, but you’re hidden in
Flickers of allegory.
Splashes of enlightenment.
You with your hands on your hips.
And a sick smile on your lips,
Lift my broken body
With the tip of your shoe.
A story where I write about you, but the fantasy is waning.
And the truth is regaining.
So, when I go flying, I’m not that surprised.
I twist in the air.
Search for the semi, fox, or plane,
That will finish me off,
Instead of your face.
A story where I write about you, but this time I get it.
I can write all I want,
But truth will out
It’s time for me to accept
That you’re just a fucker.
I have no regret.
Oh how I long
for a romantic song
about co-dependence and
lack of boundary keeping.
Make it mainstream
With thoughts for the teens
And perhaps inspire change.
owning what’s yours
Admitting a wrong
A new world will begin
One we wish we lived in
But never realized it’s ours
for the making.