Dec 21

footprints to the future

Snow.
Thick brush.
Footprints.
Heading up a hill, feet crunching in the snow.
Brushing a scarf out of a face.
Avoiding the areas where a cat had killed something recently,
blood on the snow like bright-red tears.
Almost up now,
boots crushing through the snow,
face blushing with cold but not turning away.
Passing a house with warm lights in the windows, 
welcoming,
happy.
Leaving them behind.
Bushwhacking up a hill,
pushing through the difficulties 
and reaching the top of a hill.
Unbunttoning a coat,
placing it on top of the snow,
sitting on it.
Staring out at the world,
snow-covered hills,
sad-looking, dead bushes and sticks,
giant pines unaffected by the cold.
Blinking hard.
Crying.
Breaking inside from the pain of past and present.
But pushing past.
Pushing a body to stand 
and walk,
almost breaking
but pushing a self 
Dec 21

difficulties

How hard can it be 
to pretend you would fly to me
through universes of love and pain and proud and fear?
How hard can it be
to think of your glowing eyes, 
your shining, swirling hair,
your smooth, sly smile?
How hard can it be 
to brace for the fact 
that you might not ever arrive?
Very.
 
Nov 29

Cedar to Palace


Once,
on a rainy day,
my brother and I just happened to be outside,
standing under a cedar.

Then my eyes lit up.

This tree had an old wooden pallete underneath the branches,
a weird box that monitored our gas tank or something,
and a short stone platform shaped like a circle.
We looked at it and thought, 
We can do this.

And we did.
We dragged the pallete out and let the rain wash it.
We got the broom and swept it out. 
We made a path to the trunk.
We found paths among the branches to climb.

And we were amazed at what we could do.

Maybe one day I'll return as an adult,
and the pallete will be rotted through,
and I'll be too big for the climbing paths,
but if I look at it, 
my brother and I will be there,
amazed at what we could do by all by ourselves,
and letting our imagination fly free
through the rain.

Nov 27

my greatest fear

Nov 24

Huh?

Where are you?
Somewhere, buried deep,
there you are,
ready for me.

But am I you?
Are you me?
How would I know-
I might be you,
you might be me.

What is going on?
 
Nov 22

here

We're out there.

We're here for you.

Ready for anything you need, 
say,
do,
ready for you.

We're a shoulder to cry on.
When you need it,
we're here for it.

You feel alone,
alone in the darkness,
there's nothing you can do,
you're 
all
alone,
and
no one 
understands
what you're going through.

But that's not true.
There are so many of us out there,
the odd ones out,
the ones who have any sort of
problem,
and even if you don't,
you can join us.

I know where to find us.
We're everywhere,
you just have to look.
Come join us,
we're here for you.
Nov 22

an old Elsa dress

Once upon a time,

you were a tiny thing 
never ever took off that Elsa dress
or your headband either.

Once, 

you cut your hair 
so short 
that there was enough to donate
and looked like a different girl
because of it.

Once,

you didn't care how you looked
and wore whatever fit the temperature.
Beauty was a pleasant idea to you.

Once,


you were plain old you.
you didn't care what they thought.


But now?
you're all
computers and
ponytails
and cute dresses.

Where did that little 5-year-old girl 
who never took off her Elsa dress go?

 

Nov 15

noun: Overwhelmed; exhausted

Flipping out,
Is what they'd say. 
High-strung, and they

May be right,
(Maybe right?)
(Or do we go left?)
as my strings are pulled to their very very limit,
about to pop off,
at the end of the rope.

My out-of-patience-ness is
a lion,
waiting to see 
what they prey in front of it will do,
but I'm the prey.
It's a clump of bright red radishes,
bursting with so much, too much flavor,
that it overwhelms my taste buds, overwhelms me.
It's my tired feet after a hike through my life,
buzzing with wanting to walk more but needing to rest.
 
Nov 10

Shooting star

Last night I saw a shooting star.
It was so small,
so tiny and insignificant looking,
I was lucky to notice it.

When I described it to them,
I said that it was so small, 
it had no other lights, 
so it wasn't an airplane.
It was the right color.
I said it looked the same way it always looks on TV,
it made them laugh,
but it was true.
I said how amazing it was,
and how I've never seen one before.

I'm honestly not sure if I'll ever see one again.
It was beautiful,
and so fleeting.
I think it was showing me 
that life is beautiful and fleeting too,
(at least to something its age),
and I should make the best of it.

Nov 10

too much, for one tiny thing

what is it about the stars
that makes me feel like
i'm being sucked up 
into the vastness of space 
and time?

im so full
so empty 
so overjoyed 
so overwhelmed 
so amazed 
and yet i've seen it before.....
but have i?

tiny dots 
and yet bigger than our sun
they make me feel so small
and i really am
compared to the ever-expanding world they live in 

and when they die
they leave their mark on the universe 
in a black ink-dot 
that will suck you up and turn you to spaghetti if you enter
but always there
it's always there and it's there for us
it won't let go
i won't let go
 

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