Risk

Those feelings native to our hearts
Are feelings of hiding and of turning
And of running away inside
Whenever we don’t hear the words
That were supposed to fill that
Empty empty cold and empty

S p a c e

Let’s go away because
We are unwanted here
We are not beautiful enough
Not wanted with the last layer of lipstick or
The thin so thin and see-through shirt
That gave them the chance to see
A little more of what I am underneath
We risked it all in a moment
By breathing by walking
In the door by standing
By sitting by speaking...

Oh, by speaking we risked it all
By asking we cast our cards
Apon the table and
They
Never
Even
Saw them
Let’s just go away
Its over now we did the best
We possibly possibly could
My hair was straightercurliershinierwavier
This time and still they didn’t see me
We don’t think we will speak
Again.
It's too great a risk
To be broken that way is just too painful
And I don’t possess that kind of strength

They should have seen how fragile
We are underneath
We feel the cold cold clamming up inside
We will crawl beneath the table
Behindthewallbeneaththebed
Somewhere

We will go to a cave a dark cave
A cold cave and hard inside
To stay awhile
Till we sink out of existence

Please don’t see us now
Ugly ugly terrifying ghosts
Staring from the mirror
With three stalls behind it
Where I want to go and cry
Please let me be here alone
Please let us die inside alone together
Away from the eyes that didn’t
See us

(April 2006)

This is one of the "riskiest" poems to post, but I wanted to anyway. It's about the desire I've experienced and seen in other girls to be seen, noticed, heard, and wanted. Whether it's a good desire, a foolish one, a selfish one, a legitimate one...well, it doesn't matter. It's there.

Love is Not a Fragile Thing

Love is not a fragile thing,
That it should faint when left unwooed
Or take to heart the bitter sting
Of unpaid debts long due

Love is not a candle flame,
That it should dim or be snuffed out
Because an ill wind blows its way
Of rumor and of doubt

Love is not frail, that it should die
From long exposure to the cold
Nor is it timid and should hide
In dark corners, left untold

Love is not a tender plant,
That it should wither with the drought
Or wilt for little things–
A slight, a frown, a pout
But is a vine that clasps and clings
And is loath to be plucked out

Love is a flame that leaps and burns
With kindled passions like a fire
But when all lovely lights are gone
Beyond reason and skin-deep desire,
Love is love for holding on
She will forgive, and smile, and never tire.

(Oct. 2005)

I'm so convicted by my own words...I guess that's how I know they weren't "mine" in the first place.

Learning Russian

Russian words
Grammar. Structure. Sounds.
Crash harsh and salty on me
An ocean of unknowns
Under a stormy sky
Pelting, battering, beating me
Sloshing up with an unexpected slap
Fierce and wild and gray.
Then I climb ashore, dripping wet
Into English prepositions
And the sun comes out.

(Aug. 2007)

Serving Justice

Smack! Down flew my hand to victory! As morning dawned, and the first rays of light seeped into my bedroom between drawn window blinds, I slew the Evil Mosquito King of Doom. That little feller had enough of my blood in him to be my relative, but that didn’t stop me from murdering him in cold blood. Well, make that warm blood. Mine. Fresh. Little Vampire!

I staggered from the battle scene into the bathroom to nurse my wounds and dispose of my dead advarsary. Mattie had long since deserted the battlefield for a cooler, less mosquito ridden atmosphere. After washing the mosquito down the sink, I inspected my leg– four fresh bites. Then I looked in the mirror. My right eyelid was swollen to obesity and flopped grotesquely over my eyelashes. Hey, I thought, I really do look like a casualty of war.

After all, I am a veteran. India. Summer of ‘06. Slathered in my secret armor, Coppertone Bug ‘n Sun lotion, I endured many a sticky night, outwitting the enemy and waging the battle for sleep to the threatening roar of the swamp cooler. There was the day I took out Sir Obnoxious the Evil Fly with one fell flick of the fingernail and smeared his evil fly remains apon the back window of the jeep, there to rot forever. It was really quite impressive and I should have been decorated.

Now, however, I’m back at home, a weathered soldier of sorts, once again engaging in a battle for my honor, my family, my sleep. Oh, I’ve witnessed the havocs of this war. Not just a bulging eyelid or a leg smattered with evidences of sinister blood-slurping. It’s the sight of my family members in the morning, reduced to strained, sunken-eyed zombies, deprived of the freedom to sleep in peace.

Well, I’d better (yawn) get moving. Duty calls. I need to look up the life span of the average female mosquito, and possibly tend the casualties of yet another battle. If I never post again, you’ll know my unfortunate demise. I quote from the dank walls deep in the bowels of Chateau D’If, one time prison of the Count of Monte Cristo– "God will give me justice!"

(actually wrote this yesterday morning but didn't post then, obviously.)

Joy Is

Joy is around a table and a meal
Joy is in a family and a hearthfire
And drawing other kindred hearts
Into that glowing circle.

Joy is seeing life begin
In the new green of leaves
In the face of a newborn child
In the hopeful light of gentle dawn.

Joy is the mystery in music
That melts and yet binds up our souls;
Joy is a walk on a cold, clear night
When the stars sing out that all is well.

India's Son

The little brown eyes take me away
It’s like heaven there and
His brown nose is so indescribably
Small and precious and perfect
Something wells up inside me
I have these tears and I don’t know why at all
His perfectly formed ears fit on his head in such a way
How overwhelmed I am
He is India, in a huge, small way

Questions for God

Are You ready to recieve me
Into open arms?
Are Your arms as big
As a January moon?
Are Your eyes as deep and secret
As mystic forest gloom?
Is Your voice like crushing thunder
Rolling on the sea?
And what I really want to ask You is:
Can You love a girl like me?

(Jan. 2006)