New Day

Everyday that passes seems to become more and more foggy. It's as if I am walking around in this haze and nothing seems quite real. I have been here before, I know. It is an uncomfortable feeling at the least. It weakens me, saddens me, brings me pain. And in return I search for some kind of solid ground. Maybe that's why I am searching for you again. Is that good? It doesn't seem that way. It seems selfish. Yet, I can barely resist the urge to feel home embracing me again. And in that my weakness overcomes me and I slowly give in with no regard for the future and a mess at my feet.

Them, Her and Me

Blue up above 

Blue on the floor

Meet the brown

The wooden doors 

Bricks to clay

Rain to river

Sun of summer

Winter shivers

Heels to marble

Tears to cheek 

Hand in hand

Voice that speaks 

Come to rest

Against the wall

The vines won't 

Take it all

I saw you die

From the corner of eye

I watched you bleed

But never cry

I've felt the road

Though not in this skin

Beneath wings and wheels

Of meaningful sin

I've been running 

Through this open field 

The sun never sets 

The wind doesn't yield 

I've been running

Running free 

Running far

Finding me 

The soil pushes 

Against my soles

Underground travel 

Can get cold

Let waves crash effort

But leave the tools

See it now 

You're just a fool

They knew nothing of

Her desperate escape

A stone cold effort 

With a will to rape

Sew up the light 

Live half in night 

Remain oblivious

You're always right

Legs to feet

Wall to door

No matter change

It wants more

Reason

A part of us is always going to leave. Other parts will come, some will stay for only moments others will stay for years. 

The trees lose their leaves, twigs, branches...but still there is the tree. And someday summer will come again. The river may narrow, might run shallow, but still there is the river trickling somewhere. We move on through change in this life, through loss and through the periods where we are so raw and broken it feels the rest of us might fade away too. But through it all we must find reason for living and reason for pain. We must find reason in good and bad, in sorrow and strength in goodness and mistakes. Even for what we don't understand we must find reason. And in that we better ourselves, we learn from everything and we find good in the situations that hurt. 

Ash

The hands in her hair felt sad, their longing search unyielding and needy. Had time already brought grief to the young? So soon did the people now parish that she knew in her heart they were already an extinct species. What ruins they had held onto for these past years had diminished along with all traces of happiness. A world of crumbling pavement was a hopeless one.

She felt the last strands of hair swiped clean from her neck, then the weight of a heavy braid falling to her back.
"Thank you my dear" she smiled at the little one.
The little one stared back, her round gray eyes serious and void.

She had to look away.

Only when her eyes traveled away from the small tortured face could she remain strong. In this she found no comfort simply a temporary avoidance of panic.

As she thanked the little one and began walking away she heard a noise. So quiet at first it was barely identifiable, but as she stopped and strained to listen she was growing more certain of what she was hearing. It was a jet. A jet plane. The noise was intensifying, rumbling, yet everything else was still, silent almost. The grey scenery was overwhelming, dead. Ashes fell too slowly to the ground, like peaceful snowfall. She could hear nothing but the jet and her own breathing, the rest of the world gone cold.

It was so close now. She turned around, her breathing heavy, ash catching in her eyelashes. She saw no airplane. There stood only the little one, pale and emotionless. The little one's mouth was open screaming. No not screaming but rumbling. There was no airplane, she'd been fooled.

"Stop that!" she shouted.

The rumbling grew louder. Blood ran from the corners of the little one's open mouth, from the eyes and the heart of her white nightgown.

She watched in horror, a sob rising in her. She tried to run to the little one, tried to save her. But she could not move forward, no matter how she tried.

Silence.

Red ashes spin elegantly to the ground. There is not a soul to be seen. There is no one left.

180

It's a funny thing how eventually love turns into a slow burning hate. The smallest things you had never noticed before are suddenly amplified in this ugly light with the switch of a button. It's an unfortunate thing as well as it is real.

Blue Sky

I rode my bike up and down hills today for awhile. The ride was a beautiful one, full of sunshine and flowers. Having the wind blow through your hair, your music playing in your ears and the sun warming your face is a feeling you cannot duplicate. It is a faithful side effect of riding your bicycle in the foothills of the rocky mountains.

As I was riding along I pulled off my headband with every intention of putting it back on when it slipped from my hands. I hit my breaks and turned around to search for the shiny golden item but it was nowhere to be found. I devoted a bit longer to the search but was unsuccessful in finding it.

I wondered how that was possible, but decided I could only look to myself for the blame. I continued on and let it go. Letting go is hard. Not of the headband so much but of everything. Try it sometime, completely let go of obligation or worry and just devote yourself completely to something.

Butterflies, Razor Wings

If only you knew how I feel every time I see your name, every time the memories play up in my brain.
If only you felt this desperation, near breaking demonstration of the strength I summon falling in your wake, the dream I'd nearly let you take.
It's killing me everyday, and no logic or sense will obey.
I am stuck on these memories in these lonesome days, always wishing there was a way.