There’s no telling what you saw
When I woke you up that day.
You whispered about an angel.
It couldn’t have been me,
I would never let myself believe …
Category: Word Prompt
Rivulets of Love (Repost)
Back in April the WordPress daily word was rivulet, today the word of the day challenge is rivulet so I’m sharing this one again.
Standing beside you silence is broken even when nothing is said. Funny isn’t it? The stars and the sky; did they dance and dive, bring cosmic planes of every color into a swirling whirling dance of lightening intensity before your eyes met mine?
Has the world always fallen silent at the beckon of your gasp, a movement so sudden and rasp, or was it just mine?
Strange thing isn’t it? To feel everything you’ve ever been step into the light of everything you’ll ever be, knowing no matter the fragility broken will never be … again …
Oh this feeling, again and again. Melodies in languages I fear I will never understand, kisses along paths I may never travel beneath moonlit branches otherworldly in their desire.
It dissipates but not into illusion, a dream of roses and foreign spring days. It sinks beneath the current, becoming the undertow, dragging us along in this sweet abandon, forever familiar. You are home. You are forever, over and over and over.
Such are the rivulets of love that stream from our silent smiles, glancing eyes, as we stand quiet, forever reaching in fear of loving alone the other.
Evolution
We live, we learn, we grow.
It’s amazing the evolution when color photos just taken drain and redden
And clouds just forming begin storming.
Haze permanently obscures the laughing moon
Blocking our memories of cloudless bug lit nights.
Shadows shift in undertones, subtly coloring the world in deepening blues.
I reached after you but you were too far gone.
Strides across the parking lot now shortened
And dagger edged words now blunted.
I stand on the shore of what could have been
Straining to pick the memories from those which tendrils of mist stole away.
We live, we learn, we grow.
We realize we’re wrong
But names appear on stones and fresh dirt churns easy,
When time has no regard for little human lives.
Sedated
My head is a balloon floating from a child’s hand. The bed, beeping machines, city streets with colonies of feet fall out of focus below me. I’ve never been much a believer in heaven or hell but beyond the clouds there exists a veil. It waves me forward, a welcoming call.
Oh but I can feel the child like tug after all. My balloon head fills with lead, plummeting, it lands squarely against the bed.
Perhaps it’s a bit too loaded, this moment they allude to in death. The pressure to ascend just right, or be doomed to plummet into the hand of a mad man, is enough to drive one from sanity.
The nurse slips a round or two into my IV. I never truly see her. My mind shuffles like channels over the TV, all white noise and infomercial pleas.
For the briefest of seconds a signal flickers. Sensations flood my mind, driving me quickly into overtime. Between the thrashes and splashes the nurse stands stoic, medicine at the ready.
I don’t say much, my tongue operates like the finest mush, but the nurse with her ruby smile assures me. She pats my hair and caresses my arm.
“Don’t worry dear, I’ve got the cure right here.”
The Subtlety of Dying (Repost)
This was originally posted in Sept 2017. I was working on something else that’s been floating around my head and started thinking about this. The prompt at the time was thorny, the RDP prompt today is brace
What did it feel like?
Dying I mean?
Was it cold?
Or wet?
Kind of like being born again?
Was it light,
Or dark?
Or maybe a bit of both?
Did you know then,
When it happened I mean?
Did you see God?
Heaven and Hell?
Or was it just space and time,
All melding together in one?
The sweet soul gives a wispy smile,
Dying, her voice echoes,
Well, I do remember that well.
Momma told us it would be ok,
It wouldn’t hurt at all.
But it was kinda like falling,
Your stomach flies to your throat
And down to your toes,
Except it’s all at once.
Then you land,
And it’s kinda like landing
In your grandmother’s old roses,
When you fly over the handlebars
For the very first time.
It’s all excitement and adrenaline.
That is until you land,
Then it’s kinda thorny.
It’s Just Not Fashionable (Repost)
Repost from some point earlier in this blog and because I hear the news now and feel this is just as relevant:
There was a time, in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t that long ago, when my head was so fucking loud.
At any given second there were a thousand things all competing for a space on my mind. There was drama, loathing, negativity …
I hated everyone but most of all, above everything else, I hated myself.
I absolutely couldn’t stand myself and anytime a moment of pride, a good thought, a feeling of something well deserved, managed to sneak in … it only made me dig that dagger deeper.
I suffered from crippling depression. Killing myself was an almost daily thought although I never acted on it because I didn’t think I was worth the effort it would take to clean up.
It was more that I just wanted to disappear.
I wanted to go away but I wanted to do so in the least evasive way possible. Lest I find myself further inconveniencing others with my life, or lack thereof.
I couldn’t let myself have good things. In my mind I deserved the bad, I brought it down on myself like a wayward child purposely toppling case after case of books on themselves.
It hurt, I knew it would hurt but in my mind I deserved it.
And then one day something happened.
Something from my past came forward to find me. The universe so eloquently dropped it right into my lap and reminded me that you can’t run from things that are meant to be a part of you.
I don’t know that I had ever cried as hard as I did in that moment.
I don’t know that I had ever felt the relief that I did in that moment.
I don’t know that I had ever felt anything in the way that I did in that moment.
After that I learned the art of being still and being quiet. I learned how to quiet my mind and how to bring myself peace. I learned to be ok with the times where I falter, because everybody makes mistakes. Everybody has days and moments and honestly that’s life with depression. It’s up and down and all around sometimes. I learned to steer myself instead of letting the noise in my head take the wheel.
All of this comes into sharp focus for me when I see things on TV that seem to glamorize things like suicide. TV shows that attempt to show it and explain it but do so in such teenage drama ways that they miss the point. Or when I see mass destruction, people driven by forces that are purely evil, raining terror down on others.
And I see ways that we could help these things, ways we could have real conversations but it’s fashionable, in some circles it seems, to be loud, to let the noise take the wheel. Those conversations will never happen when the noise is driving.
I don’t know how to implore the world to be still, to think, to be quiet then speak. I don’t know if we can and I honestly don’t if it would help but these days it seems like maybe the need for noise should fall out of fashion.
The word of the day at the time was fashionable.
The RDP prompt today is slippery which I also think is relevant because slippery slopes
Here You Are
My notes app is 85% drunken ramblings
Composed sideways in bathroom stalls,
14.95% tear stained confessionals
Preached to the moon and stars, and
.05% things I actually wanted to remember
Between the words Here and You and Are.
RDP: Copious
