Walls
I feel it in my throat
A voice trapped
A scream stifled
But muscles strangle my soul into silence
I feel it in my bones
A spirit contained
Defined by a deteriorating shell
But the body protects the gift it carries
I feel it in this room
A life that is stuck
A longing to explore
But home is where the heart is, and responsibility
I feel it in this world
Minds that need to open
Hearts that yearn to heal
But traditions and systems maintain the chaos
Projections
I see them
Sad eyes
Blank stares
Shallow conversation
Going through the motions
“Is this all there is?”
Cries from their empty insides
I wonder what their stories are and what brought them here, and if they will ever wake up and escape? Do they even know it’s possible?
And then
I wonder
If what I see is real?
Or are they just reflections of
My own longings?
Edge
The knot tightens in my core
A cauldron beneath it
Brewing from the past
Fear
Uncertainty
Apathy
I am frozen in this darkness
But I know it will bubble over into nothing
Evaporate when I wake
Sunshine and hope awaits
Don’t fight it
Just breathe and be
Until the dawn of a new day.
Unbound
It was safe and secure
With love and limits
An answer for every question
Even if shrouded in the long ago and far away.
A world of legends and miracles
But truth to a child’s open mind.
The universe slowly shifted
Grew
Evolved
The seal to the box was opened
Out flowed grace and peace and wonder, not like Pandora
And God and all the universe was bigger, more vast, mysterious
Powerful beyond measure
Truth is love
Outside the box
Unbound by a distant man’s translation.
Afternoon in paradise
The clouds swirled above in multiple layers
Shifting from wind, rain, sunshine
We were in the arc of a rainbow
I wondered if three different days passed.
Twin peaks stood in stark contrast
Conducting the clouds
Casting gold dust and shadow in the valley
I rested in their enduring majesty.
The spruce and the aspen
Branches waving and swirling toward the sky
Symbols of growth and protection
I inhaled their life giving breath.
When the inside is too much
Outside draws me close
My eyes and heart open
And I melt into Nature’s embrace.
Gulf Shores
The warm ocean breeze
Was a rhythm in my veins
Singing never forget where you come From.
The sand fell away beneath my toes
But the salty foam tide
Enveloped my feet
Securing me in the Presence.
On the edge of the earth
I met the Center of my soul.
The work
Why do I feel so guilty?
This focus on me.
The work to become who I’m meant to be.
Peeling back the scabs and reopening the scars
What isn’t mine?
What is of the stars?
Underneath is an unbroken child
True love and dreams
She was born of the wild
But the world told her no
Her voice became quiet
She defaulted to rules and shame
She did the right thing
And feared when she didn’t
To never dishonor her name
She whispers to me through all of the noise
And debris of stories told
I am.
I am.
I am.
Her voice echos below and I am torn
Between the guilt of trying to break free
Or the guilt of leaving her behind
Anxiety attack
Once it had subsided
I tried to explain it
But the words made no sense
Failure
Drowning
Tightness
Suffocating
Tears
Heavy
Frozen
“What triggered it?”
I don’t know.
Maybe that thing…
But that doesn’t seem enough
Maybe everything…
But then I am ungrateful
I have a good life
And should not feel this way.
The anxiety has subsided
And the shame sets in.
Next
Remember remember remember.
There’s that
you keep forgetting
There’s this
you keep procrastinating
And that other thing
Why haven’t you taken care of that yet?
And a hundred other things
Some trivial and some more important
Waiting in that long line that continues all the way around the corner
One in
One out
Too many on the dance floor
Tisk
Task
Check the box
But the line outside is growing infinitely
And each new checked box
Requires more effort
Less purpose
Less reward
But the fear of being trampled by it all
Keeps the line moving.
Next.
Humanity
It was sunny and a humid 93 degrees as I was driving along Bannister Road and moving slowly through thick traffic. Stopped at a light, I observed the backyard of a townhouse where a middle-aged man was on his knees in the grass with a not-yet-inflates swimming pool spread before him. He was fiddling with the pump to get things going. I don’t know who the pool was for: maybe grandchildren were coming over that evening, maybe he has a dog that needs help cooling off on steamy days, or maybe he just wanted to pull up a lawn chair, soak his feet in the cool water, and relax with a beer. I couldn’t think of a situation with that inflatable swimming pool that didn’t involve some combination of peace and joy, and it made my heart swell with happiness to catch a short glimpse of the good times to come.
—
I’ve passed her in the halls at work several dozen times. Her bleached short hair, her simple, no-nonsense clothing, earbuds always in place to shut out the world around her. She looks down, no eye contact, expressionless as her mind is lost in whatever she’s listening to, or maybe she’s very unhappy. Everything about her seems closed off from the present moment and I’ve wondered what she does here, if she has friends, and what she’s like outside of the corporate walls. I assume she’s an artist since she’s so independent and I’ve never seen her speak or walk with anyone else. And I laugh at my own stereotype of artists since I am one and know so many that are nothing like my perception of her. I can’t decide if I am worried about her loneliness or jealous of her utter lack of concern with anything going on around her. And then one day it happened. I passed her and saw her light up with a joyful smile, and my heart felt relief. But she wasn’t smiling at me.
—
The sun had finally come out that mild Saturday morning in May. I had recently finished getting all our garage sale items set back out in the driveway and sat down in my lawn chair. There was the usual mix of random household goods and clothing and toys that our girls no longer needed. A young family walked up, with a two-year-old boy, and he immediately made a beeline for the pink and purple colorful riding toy that Layla got for her first birthday. It was a car with a horn and little piano keys on the front that played different songs. He had barely begun to scoot around on it when his dad grabbed him and said “No son, that’s a girl toy.” And they walked away without purchasing anything.
—
I was leaving work one evening last Spring, walking through the long halls to get to the parking garage. My head was down, perusing my phone, but in my peripheral vision saw I had to slow to a halt because a man was stopped in the middle of the hallway. When I looked at him I saw him with his phone, pointed at the ceiling, and noticed a skylight there I had never seen before. The sky was blue and bright, with fluffy white clouds slowly passing above. After a long, dreary winter, I too shared his excitement of this unexpected view of the bright blue above. I was happy to slow and give him that moment, and overjoyed to happen upon someone finding beauty in unexpected places.
—
The concert was several songs into the show, and I observed the young woman slouched on the seat in front of me scrolling through her phone, which continued for much of the show. It was one of my all time favorite bands, and I felt judgmental, almost offended that she would waste a concert ticket to be there on her phone. But later at an interlude, the lead singer addressed the crowd, calling on anyone who’d ever felt different, like an outcast, and struggled to find their place in this world. I saw her take notice for the first time and raise her hand with hundreds of others. He told us all that we mattered, that we were enough, and that we all had something unique and special to offer this world, and then dedicated the next song to the crowd. Her demeanor changed dramatically, from a sullen, apathetic brat to a person who found her tribe. She danced and swayed and hugged those around her, and thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the show. I felt a pang if guilt for judging her initially, but was filled with gratitude as I watched her blossom in the dark midst of the crowd.
