unite me

“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.”

Memory

Its the one unalienable right we are born with that actually works without a survival guide. Its the one thing we have that we never really pay any attention to and yet without it wed have nothing to show for our yesterdays. Its the way washed up shells along the beach can remind me of when I was a child searching for the shiniest one barefoot and no other concerns. The way fall leaves collecting in piles and the first cold night of the year can make you want to cozy up to some hot cocoa and scary movies. Or how the smell of fresh swamp cooler pads can bring you back to the days when you would shove your body parts into the air tunnels for relieve from those hot summer days. How the smell of ocean or the touch of the hot sand between your toes can bring you back to Maui where the sun melted away your troubles. Its the way that no matter how lost you may become you always find yourself back at home. Its the one thing you have left of something that will never return, like how the smell of your aunts perfume makes you feel like shes right by your side. That comfort brought by our memory, and still we take little notice. Its the way that no matter how many hugs you get from your grandmother each and every one is as sweet as the first. Its how nail polish can remind you of growing up with your sisters. How the feel of a river rock can bring you back to old lake trips and all the attempts made trying to skip them. The fresh garden smell of spring can remind you of hunting for Caterpillars and Rolly-pollies as a child.
Nothing is more vital to our senses than what we do routinely everyday. Its the events done out of routine that we remember best. Everything around us makes us that much more vulnerable to forget. We become so accustom to our everyday lives we just begin to expect that everyday will be the same. We make mistakes, we were meant to. Trial and error is all we have to push us to knock on the next door. No matter how long it may take to open. As long as we all know the world for something good in our lives we wont forget whats really important. Not giving up. Our memories give us guidance for whats next to come, hope that things will change. The comfort gives us the confidence to move on. A comfort we learn to trust over time. Only when there is visible danger do we turn the other way, that is if we never had a memory to learn by. Never doubt your intuition because even if you don't understand it, its real. There is a reason for everything and in the end it can all affect your life. Because with each new day brings in new standards within the road we travel and most often time without any warning the little things in life we take for granted are gone. And then the only comfort you can feel is the memory of what is no longer there. The memory that could've saved what is now lost. And you left to knock on the next door, the next chance. And hope you will learn from trial and error. but you wont, because we are all idiots. We repeatedly gain trust that things will just be the way we want and we forget the simple things that help us along.

I want to run to you

I want to see you like my skin
Growing with me everyday
Keeping me together when I'm torn apart
Holding who I am inside
I wont live another day alone
as long as I hold you close
a comfort Ive never known before
My skin, what makes me beautiful even in the mud
My skin that heels every time it may be broken
and still my skin stays brave to the danger
I want to feel you like my heart
beating every second of my life
saying what is never told by instinct I feel
warming my body so I may never lay cold
holding those I love near and close
But never will I know you by my mind
because my mind will not understand how I feel for you

We are ignorant from time to time.

As time ages on as would a bittersweet wine, I too will look over my should at the past and still not know what lays ahead of me. All that life will ever grant us is the hope for something more and the slight spark of potential that we may or may never see. To twine ourselves within the sweet blossoming gardens and flourish but with nothing to show except our love and our enduring gifts, we shall hold so close. Looking back we see the world as deaf would hear a beautiful orchestra. We have learned the tune by heart and yet quiet still we may never hear it.And as those few unfortunate stay waiting to hear the first beat others will have learned to play the instruments. No one is born with the wisdom to know where to find everything you need in life. All we have is the love. And when we hurt and our hearts ache we lay vulnerable and the love fades just as the music begins to mute. We must learn to move on in times of struggle because whats next to come may be greater than what we grieve upon. And next time we find something worth holding close, our hearts will learn to appreciate that much more. Bringing together the bits of life that once felt so lost. And one day life will be simple again, because one day I would hope all that is worth keeping will learn to love again. Even when we may be deaf to hear them or blind to see them we know them by heart and they still near, waiting for us to open our eyes once more.

A Search to Find What is Never Lost

A sliver of light glaring through the crack in the wall. Beneath this wall meets the edge of my foundation. And I stand here exposed and naked. My feet lay flat upon the surface, my eyes fixed on this beaming light. My breasts lay sweat upon my chest, my hair lays untouched and mangled. Nothing is left to be unveiled, here I am. This is all that I'm made of. Left to desire the lacking, Left to need more than what is given. Always hungry, always naked; I am left to be detected. Left to perceive I'm alone in this concealed world but I'm stubborn. I stare out so curious, this light tempts my need to draw near. Cold water beneath my feet I step out delicately. Each step a bite to feed my hunger. And with each step I recover. My skin radiates the heat of this light and this stone cast mold begins to unfold. My body is released from all barriers. My back arches inward and my body leans toward the crack in the wall. Unclothed I kneel to my knees, placing each hand on either side of this light and I peak in with one eye near to see. And as if to be weak and unbalanced as water the wall gives into the pressure and my body is shot out to fall. And the once bright light I so craved to see is dark and cold and raining over me. On my back naked I lay wet by the rain and left tired by my own strength. Maybe this unknown was not left to be discovered. The grass stands tall, blowing wet side to side so swift above me. My body lays beneath everything, rested gently on the surface I was so fiercely gifted. My hands hold close my breasts to cover. My eyes may shut to each exiting breath and my legs lay on flat on the gravel. And with each new breath inhaled my eyes may open to glance at the grey clouds moving slowly above it all. Whats missing? Whats wrong? Whats left to complete whats left of me? A sliver of light beaming out from the clouds? I lay out to dry and the birds are coming out. As the light grows stronger more and more I see of whats encasing me. Yet so vulnerable I may be. My eyes must adjust and my muscles lay so tense. I roll my head on its side to rest, my hands fall heavy from my breasts and I see the wall that has collapsed. So weak I have become laying here with no desire for it to matter. I am only surviving here. The light widens and the clouds thin out slowly illuminating the blossoms of small yellow flowers at the ends of the steps crawling above me. Waving side to side so swift and calm. Rested I begin to feel the bumps of my chill sink and spread back inside of me.My skin so pure so polished and smooth, keeps me together in this oh so separated world. The breeze hits my chest and neck like warm breath down my body and I still crave the warm embrace of another. Someone to fill this absence of desire. Someone to make me love again, make me strong and make it matter.
A man so gentle and firm. So guilty I feel for the feelings I cant shake. And this strange sense of comfort, so lost in fixation, so drawn to the unknown. And why is this that Ive changed so? He brings close all that I felt was lost.
Alone, there is no purpose in this world. In a world without meaning everything falls into shadow no matter how light. What difference does it make for me to stand above where I lay? Everything is going to change anyway. How I urn for his tender protection. The tall grass straps me to this land left barren as my body, I need to find my reason, my purpose and stand. Slowly I sit up to a kneel. I look out in all directions, vast and wide it is so empty but I no longer feel alone. A new spark of interest I have found. The will to move on after struggle.

When Does it matter

If all lifes questions were easy to answer each new step is no longer a risk to fall

If whats next to come never scared us it wouldn't matter which way wed turn. If everybody you met agreed with your plans it wouldn't matter what they thought. If we never got hungry thirst cold or hot it wouldn't matter what we choose. If everything we did lead to some kind of success we wouldn't have to worry. But they aren't and it matters. Get over it and learn to fall lightly Learn to turn around when your faced in the wrong direction. Think, Choose, and don't worry.

memory

I watch you from a distance my dearest memory. You hold you love in your arms and dance so vigorously. You have met your blue jay in a flock of sparrows so fly off together and nest in a blossom bearing tree. Make a sky full of blue jays and never live alone again. Promise to never abandon hope, promise to give faith in the simple strengths gained in struggle. Promise to love. I watch you from a distance in reflections I can see, and if only you knew you were part of me. May I be the needles and the weeds you so twine in the trees or shall I be the leaves that watch as they float away in the breeze?

Crisp Meadows

Crisp meadows
The crisp meadows ignore the summer sun. trees drape over the view of the lake. beautiful orange rays glisten through the leaves of the trees and the waves of the clear blue water. The birds whistle through the breeze as it carries them by, and here I stand alone in the middle of such wonders. There is a boat, an old two-seater boat in real need of a new paint job. As I stand the breeze welcomes me with its sweet flavors and aromas. I shall stay at least as long as it takes for me to find out what happened. I can vividly remember being here some time ago. Something that shades my mind even on the coldest days. I just dont know where this is or how I got here. I just walked in or maybe Im dreaming, but how have I been here before. The vines climb up the cliffs hovering over the lake so high it nearly blocks the deep blue background of my surroundings. Bright crimson flowers and lily pads. That boat, why is it here? I shall try it out for myself. The lake is even more graceful out on the water. The water is warm by the sun. There are so many fish about me. What is this? a picture? a young girl is lost. The sun is beginning to set behind the tumbling cliffs. bright orange and pink shoots on the boats rim and the waters gentle breaks. as the cliff lights up I can see so much more, the name of the boat "Justice" and I am sinking. There are dark grey clouds rolling toward me I must swim out to shore and find shelter before it rains. I wont leave this an empty void in my mind. all is left for silhouetteand the fish begin to eat. The moon is full and peaking through the clouds and the stars are by the billions. I can see a cabin ahead. I never caught sight of this before. It is so cozy and welcoming and the lights are on someone must live there. as I approach the cabin the flowers are at an extremely odd bloom. Everything is brightened with huge roses and tulips tall grass and daiseys. Wind chimes ring and whistle in the wind. theres that boat, justice by the cabin. How can it be here when it was just sinking in the lake beneath me? There are bars on the windows and deadbolts on the doors. Its raining now, when I reach to knock on the door it creeks open with the lock hanging from the knob anticipating my entrance. It is so alive and clean in here and still i feel familiar to it all. I walk down the hall, "hello? is anybody here? " I spot a door that has been shunned from the rest of the house, boarded up and locked by its dead and dark appearance. My curiosity can no longer wait. I bust the door down with a kitchen chair, and the walls crumble down, dust is blown everywhere. the lights go out to the whole house but one lamp in the dark shadows of this room. It is a child's room, I hear a tune coming from the radio I recognize the melody instantly, a music box i twined as a child. I remember the song but where is it from? why does it hurt so bad to hear it. I quickly shut it off, unplug it, but it still plays. What are all these ashes here for? something bad has happened. once I pulled the plug to that nerve racking tune my world fell upon me. with a big rumble the walls began to fall and I slid under the bed, my bed. The dust made an uproar as it engulfed the room. I began to lose conscientiousness within the lack of gasping oxygen. when I woke up I remembered everything. that was my life, my home, my tune, and whenI gave it up I lost it forever.

Roses

What are roses without their thorns
except that of their petals so soft
awaiting to blossom so bright
a token for a smile
plucked as to be sacrificed for love
they fight and scratch the battle
they are tools of messengers
Your fingers drip red with blood
a vase to place this creature
it crawls inside its outer petals
Scared in anticipation it sits
you pour water like mercy
it rains down along its vein
you take it to your love
with the gentle brush of her
fingers along its face
it turns to stone and brakes
she cries you comfort her
the rose turns to ash and thickens
she smiles, what for though?
she pours the mixture into her hands
and molds you a rose
A rose without thorns
A rose of opportunity
A rose of chance
A smile is born, strong it stands

The Pitt

To be dragged face down trying to grasp the floor, reaching out for any leverage hoping to find your chance. Sliding quickly towards a deep black hole. Sucked into gaping mouth and made thirsty by its quenching need. Falling fast lost in the feel of empty sky. Scared anticipating the crash of your body upon the hard surface of the ground. deep into the bottom of this Pitt waiting to splatter your blood and pool out your soul in this dark hall. Blinded you lose concept of up and down, lost you sleep. And he waits. With his heart beating louder than air in guilt his eyes lay sweat upon his face. With a smirk like non other he stands there out of breath. His hands straight down the sides of his rugged body clinched in fists of weary, such an act so uncannily manipulated all but for his fury. Nerves of lightning strike through his veins in up most terror. so much to say a crime of passion. And as he stands red it rains in such a loud fashion. he hears nothing but the echo of his dripping fingers. and although it drips thick from his hands, remorse and regret are absent, and all alone he stands. For he has done no wrong but put a beast to sleep. Forever it will stay and yet never will it weep. For he knows hes done no wrong but release the beast in me.

The Maui Beaches

Like the leaves of a healthy palm clashing in the wind, the waves of azure beaches crash on golden shores. Like the breath of fresh air from somewhere never been. Like the calm crisp clouds against the deep blue sky, the breaking waves crash right on by. Just as the sun comes up with every waking breath the sun goes down to set before we rest. Its the way our fists relax from the tension and stress how hibiscus blossoms clean an angry mess. Like a thousand angels diving into the steepest lives, the water falls gracefully and never asks why. Like nothing ever known before we look back and could never ask for more.

The Blue Jay

Sitting under an autumn tree with the wind in my hair and the leaves in the cold breeze. Looking out at life and watching as the birds pass me by. There is a sweet warm sensation of hope for one day someone will sit by me under this old autumn tree. If only I could reach out to them like the leaves or fly out to them like the birds. So gentle and quiet it is, so strong and yet so alone like me. For I am a blue jay and they are all sparrows.

Lost but we don't know

What are the pieces of inspiration that configure Resilience. So desperate for help we conjure such imaginative things. Lost but we don't know. Deserted we beg for hope. Resistant to the hostile. Hungry for the strong. But lost still in the needless inquiry that one day things will change. Oh such imaginative things. Naive we act like we know of nothing else, so much to be revised. So little left for time. We forget to recognize our personal surroundings and allow worry to overcome and encase our very bodies as if to be condemned into dragging the weight of another. So forgetful we are, but we mean not to hurt. Our intentions are a wander, as heavy as the pounds we so ignorantly drag. And we are quiet but we are sorry, we just cant find the words, we are lost. Lost but we don't know. We are wrong but we haven't learned for we are not to be taught. But we are sorry. We mistake and confuse love for warmth like dogs that beg for food. Upset by hunger confused by the masters greed. Jealous by instinct but we mean no harm. How do we cope when those we love are so blind and lost. But to learn and be taught to find hope in the darkest crevices of passion. Everything happens for a reason, you just have to find the why. And know its meant to happen. Some way or another this “why” will become a because and it will be required to find your way.