My photo
mommy. wife. teacher. yogini. writer. coffee drinker. aunt. crocheter. reader. dog lover. scattered. methodical. rational. irrational. paranoid. annoyed. lost. found. content. searching. peaceful. i am constantly in search of my story. the one i have never happened. the one i've lived i cannot write.

10 December 2008

lost lyrics.

we sometimes have to go back to those places where inspiration whispered in our ear.
whether we want to or not.
it helps us to remember who we are.
who we were.
i am thankful i have kept sporadic documentation of my life thus far.
littered in journals, diaries and random pieces of paper tucked away in books
is my life.
cleaning my desk out, i happened upon one of those loose pieces of paper.
i don't remember writing it.
i don't remember what spurred it.
i don't even remember feeling this way.
but i am glad to have found it.
because i read it and thought, 'i wrote this?'
and it made me smile
and push forward with my words...

fall 2005

the wind is blowing.
it comes and sweeps across my neck and pulls at the hair that was not there last year.
it comes and i wonder if i have once again let budding autumn slip through my fingertips.
i am in a rut.
i need to break out run free find a way to move.
i need to move forward.
i need to move forward with you with me.
with me.
i need to find what it is that makes me happy.
i need to find my footing and walk run into the waiting arms of something.
i need to climb from this hold.
this domesticated hole.
i tire so easily of my surroundings.
i want to paint my living room.
i just painted it orange.
i want to paint it white.
swiss coffee.
bleached almond.
i need a cornerstone.
it looks like a pumpking threw up on my walls.
i want new clothes new paint new curtains new rug new body new experiences.
i want and i want and i want all at once.
i want books piles and piles of books.
i want pollock, kerouac, salinger.
i want the melting clocks, the picasso faces, vibrancy, vivacity.
i want and i want and i want all at once.
i want travel.
i want to drive and drive and see and see and live and live.
i want to show pictures to my children and say 'look at what i did'.
i want tattoos.
i want stories spread across my back my legs.
i want stories for all the world to see.
i want eyes to fall upon me and reflect my inner light.
i want inner light.
i want eyes to fall upon me and reflect all i have done and seen and accomplished and lived.
i want to scale the cliffs of dover and swim with dolphins in the pacific and plant my feet on top of pikes peak.
i want to stand next to a road sign with my thumb pointed east.
i want to stand on the edge of ireland and yell across the vast blue to home.
i want to laugh and smile and live.
i find peace in the quiet corners of my mind.
i find me in the silence that fills the room.
i glimpse myself from above but am often pulled back into the mundane.
i fear i have let budding autumn slip through my fingertips.
now it is cold and the leaves don't even bother to turn.
they simply give into the cold wind and float wordlessly to the ground.
they are trampled and scattered and give up without a fight.
i have let autumn pass with nothing to show for it.
my toes are numb and i tick away the minutes untl i get in my car and move once again toward routine.
i am tired of routine and i want something new.
i want and i want and i want all at once.
his bark echoes against the walls and bounces off of the metal window unit.
it comes in, pounds on my eardrum, but iam only ticking away the minutes. i know it will come and quickly and then be gone as soon as it came and as slowly as it came and the cycle will begin again.
my back aches and my feet are numb and i feel as if my stomach will drop out of me.
and i will sit all the while listening to the voices reverberating against the walls, against the window unit.
i find peace in the quiet corners of my mind.
i want to live ferociously.
i want to throw my arms out and sail on to somewhere new, knowing i will tip my wings and return home once again.
i want to live.
i want to breathe new air, different air.
cigarettes taste different in missouri.
they taste different in iowa and different in illinois. the coffee never tastes different, even though the water does.
the air is different though and my cigarettes taste funny somewhere else.
i wonder what they taste like colorado in maine in boston?
i wonder and i wonder and i wonder all at once and it leads me to the glowing box where i pen all my wonderments and tick the minutes away.
two, five, eight, thirty.
my emotions are frayed and i want to curl myself around and under an unending quilt with unending warmth and unending quiet.
i am in a rut and i need to climb out and i want to climb out with you.
i want to climb out with me.
have we lived or have we missed so much time?
in thirty years i will be fifty-five.
i may only have 60 good years left.
i may only have 40.
have we wasted too much time?
sun through the leaves and it will fade too and i will never have captured it except for on this page.
i think so much about the small moments that come and go and never are and never can be documented.
the quiet butterfly that hovers around my zinnias.
the hummingbird that stares at me from his perch on the chicken wire.
the caterpillar that eats his way through the dill and vanishes.
the way that the sun hits what's left of the green on the trees and sits on top as a pool of water collects in a hole.
these moments go by noticed and not caught.
i want to put them in jars and share them with you share them with our children share them with the me inside that wants and wants and wants all at once.
his bark echoes and i am still.
and the words leave and the coffee cools and i tick away the minutes...

the minutes tick so fast now, i can hardly keep up.
savor every moment.
big and small.
and write them all down.

go well.

1 comment:

jess said...

omg why am I the one trying to explain poetry to the kids!?! beautiful.

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