i'm so mad. SO mad. i know i've been that way for a while now, i just didn't realize it until recently. i know i need to give my anger time and respect to say its piece. and i know my anger is justified. i can definitely rationalize it from every angle. but i don't like it. i don't like being angry. i don't even like the word angry. it's not pretty at all. it makes me grimace. i'm not exactly sure why. actually, i have a couple of guesses, but i don't really feel the need to expound on those here. i just need to say that i'm angry. that's a big enough step for now. figuring out what to do next will come soon enough. but for now, i'm angry. and i'm angry that i'm angry. maybe dr. lentz is right after all when he says that anger begets anger. that makes me mad if that's the case. way mad.

our house.

It came and built a wall through our house,
pride did--
separating it into quadrants,
each large enough to contain just an individual ego.
Selfishness came and roofed our rooms,
leaving holes and gaps wide enough for bitterness and envy to leak through.
They say a house divided cannot stand.
I say what’s wrong with that?
Who said standing is ideal?
It’s when we continue standing in our own self-righteous indignation that the damage is done.
But should we fall, should we collapse,
then, then the battle is really won.
It’s in destruction that unity can be found,
and loyalty can be redefined;
a sense of family revived and declared.
So let our divided house fall,
crumble to the ground.
Shake away the filth
and let new love resound.

© 2008

on a splendid april afternoon.

Traces of the past, reminders of yesterday’s hardships, lay just below the skin’s surface, poking holes in some spots, but mostly just providing a faintly visible foundation for today’s joys and adventures. No giant of the past is great enough to shadow the blissful beauty of today. So rather than revel in the joy of their overcome obstacles, they sit peacefully, basking instead in the current companionship of the other. I watched as they scurried in excitement when they first spotted the solid bench, parked directly in front of a lake, and occupied only by a lifelike bronze statue perhaps reminiscent of former, heavier days. The fixed figure sat positioned squarely in the center of the bench, presenting an entertaining predicament for the pair. He sat first, on the right of the statue, and then squished as closely as possible to allow room for his companion. Slightly daunted, she approached wearily the eight inches of empty bench he so generously provided for her, and attempted to sit, pausing midway down at the confirming discovery that her supple frame required more than a mere eight inches of support. Rather than raise a fuss, or even deposit a frown, she instead simply shrugged her shoulders and repositioned herself on the other side of their still and silent friend.

Once they were both settled, the two lightheartedly teased and examined the figure that separated them, growing in even more delight at the addition of a new acquaintance. They poked and tousled the statue, wrapping playful arms around it and using its shoulders as head rests. I sat close enough to see the skin revealed when crossed legs cause already-short trousers to rise even higher, creating a slight gap between the hemline and the stockings’ top edge, but not near enough to hear their words. One need not hear verbal exchanges to know the two enjoyed each other. Completely enamored with each other and the world that nature offers around them, they radiated elation in their current state and anticipation at what lay around the next corner.

After what appeared to be a relaxing and inviting time, filled with heads thrown back in glee and love pats exchanged across the solid bronze, the pair arose, brushed off any visible specks of dirt from the other’s slacks, and walked off, arms linked. I watched them venture off the path when they encountered a unique patch of grass or a tuft of wildflowers as they floated between their recent resting place and their new destination. And I watched as they faded into the distance, even more refreshed and in love than before their afternoon adventure; so complete and so serene, lacking in nothing, yet taking in everything with eager excitement and joy.

© 2008

hope.

Tears fall one by one
And slowly erase the lies.
Each one holds a forgotten promise,
A broken dream,
A bitter yesterday.
They continue until summer fades into fall
And the branches of her soul hang heavy and bare;
Exposed.
There are no more tears to bleed,
No more lies to sing.
And her soul threatens to evaporate;
The final abandonment,
The ultimate betrayal is near.
With her back to the elixir,
Loneliness transcends both time and space.
Certainly she is doomed,
Should she fail to turn around.
On the other side of her dark and barren winter
Stands a budding tree,
A replenished soul,
And a promise of new life.
Turn around, my child.
Turn around.

© 2008