Credit: safedefense.tumblr.com
I live in that space between then and when
I am neither here nor there
Moving out of the now into what was meant to be
The here having a lesser hold on me, a looser tie
The there tugging at my heart strings and molding my mind
In this middle midst I place myself
Setting free the old wounds
Knowing I have given birth to many new lives
Pieces of myself
made whole once more
Credit: intentblog.com
At the time of the dismantling I used to wonder
used to sweat in desperation
used to be ensnared in your endless games of lashing out
for punishment of things that I did not do
for the person you thought I was
the one who punished you for her own guilt
At the time of the dismantling
I felt myself wasting away
sick with a loss of control over my own destiny (or so it seemed)
eager with a morbid curiosity about your private transgressions
At the time of the dismantling
I used to wish you would become a stranger to me
someone I would pass by on the street or the airport without notice
someone I would see by chance who didn’t bring me to the brink of madness
At the time of the dismantling
I wish I wouldn’t recognize you
to turn my head in instinct at your unwelcome presence
a witness to your lingering lurking
and latching yourself to people and places where I could be found
At the time of the rebuilding
I ceased to wonder
became refreshed in renewal
no longer trapped, but free in my freedom
At the time of the rebuilding
I felt my self growing
a woman with curves and flesh
the mistress of my destiny
no longer curious but filled with awe at new love found
At the time of the rebuilding
you became unfamiliar
a transient that I passed by with ease
no longer on edge, existing on a different plane
At the time of the rebuilding
I no longer took notice of you
I see you on the street at a distance,
at peace with knowing that the long ago parting happened to someone else
Credit: howtheotherhalflives.deviantart.com (Hunger by Tess Cummings)
The list resides on a yellowed pad
Necessary nourishment for the coming week
We stop here first before our feastive task
Caffeinated fuel and friendship
A 21st Century Communion
In the shop’s short distance
A dear friend is spied
A light touch to greet her
Deep hugs and hushed whispers
Our minds meeting for a minute and more
But ensconced in the corner
Nearly unnoticeable from view
Sits the Serpent Sipping sumatra opposite a slender lass
His head a crusted flesh
For me: a glimpse of recognition
A trickle of fear
A tiny rat-a-tat-tat of the heart
But for the first time a small measure of sincere safety, a healthy emotional distance
A graceful departure
This crinkly creature
This squalid stranger once starved three loving souls
Sacrificed them for his vision quest
Yes, the memories linger still
Days of bare cupboards and hollowed tummies
Secret stashes hidden from him
Stunned into silence
Bullied and Blamed by the Beast
A Buried Hunger hidden from everyone and ourselves
At present day an unfilled refrigerator and a paltry pantry give rise to a familial panic
A sign of a decade’s old deprivation
The yellowed pad travels with us
The list an act of defiance
A shout out loud
A second slaying of the dragon
And always a Harvest of Hope
Credit: www.leemaysgardeninglife.com
Venus greets me before the sun
The day’s first star in the East
I step out the back door
Settle on the steps
Sipping, Listening Seeing
My stockinged feet welcome the chill of the cement
A runner’s massage before the road’s daily aches
Birdsong chatter a welcome cacophony
Drowning out Winter’s silence once more
Ducks make their way to their liquid oasis
Rapid beating of wings a thrilling urgency
A celebration of the newer season
I fill my lungs, the air freshly cold
Nary a scent:pure
My mind has yet to be cluttered
I sip my beany brew
Offering up peace, honoring the gift
for this brand new day
Credit: www.thestar.com
Opening the window
Turning up the volume
on the wind and rain
drops beating
sounds: a metal drum
an unexpected rhythm
dancing on the chairs
elderly and youthful pines
swinging and swaying
an homage to one another
My world is a blanket of camouflage colors
Grays, browns, blacks and greens
Trees still lack their first season’s buds
I await the birth of their newest progeny
Winter’s white finally losing the battle
Snowbanks disintegrating and retreating
Transforming into rivulets
The earth beneath no longer stiffened
but softening, oozing a gorgeous liquid bronze
This house has a story…what is it?
“Do you ever wonder what really happened in that house?”, Blake asked. They were sitting in the truck just moments after he and Julie had signed the purchase and sale on the former Stanton family property. Julie had grown up in these hills and was once close to Jeannie Stanton, a childhood friend who disappeared one fall afternoon in their fifteenth year, never to be heard from again. Jeannie was one of seven children from that rag-ma-tag family where chaos and cracking heads ruled through the dirty deeds of their patriarch, Joe. Jeannie’s mother was far from quiet herself, known to pull heavily on the tap at Smitty’s, the local bar where she worked serving drinks and other ‘amenities’ to the men from the local coal processing plant- long since closed and cleaned up. No one even knew for sure if all seven of the kids actually were Joe’s. The EPA finally did its job and the old brick campus had been successfully retrofitted and resurrected into a world-class sound studio. Famous musicians from across all genres recorded some of their best work in this forgotten corner of the state. Julia and Blake had become big hitters in attracting legendary acts to record and even stay in the area.
Blake, of course, had no idea of what to expect when he first entered Julie’s childhood world. They met in London, both working as sound engineers, honing their talent with the best of them. When Julie’s dad- an engineer and business man himself- bought up some of the old factory buildings from the government, he decided that some of them would work perfectly as recording spaces. Others he turned into research and development spaces. Soon he was attracting fervent interest from scientists keen on learning and creating new avenues into the world of sound.
On a return visit home with Blake last year, he and Julie had come across the abandoned property. Knowing its negative history had not stopped them from envisioning a place that would serve as a haven and respite for kid’s who were victims of abuse and neglect. Too many of the Stanton kids had become lost souls. Now that Julie had the means and connections to turn things around, she set her heart and mind on making it happen.
Just then, a rumbling sound came up from behind them. A fleet of contractor trucks loaded down with heavy equipment came roaring up the rough road. Blake planted a kiss on Julie’s lips. “Time to get to work,” she said.
Another great gift from Kellie Elmore this week!
When he first left, she felt that she had been tossed overboard. Forced to swim against impossible currents. Paddling with one oar. Surely, she was gasping for air. At best, she could tread water.
If she stood still too long, she could feel a nibbling at her feet. Those predators sent from the deep to test her willingness, her courage to face her darkest fear: Could she make it on her own?
Then as sudden as the tide turns with the pull of the moon, she discovered the means to propel herself through the fierce storm of waves and the deepest of cold waters. With each stroke, the oasis of a new beginning was within sight.
Weary and worn but never defeated, she arose from the surf. Transformed from her journey through the salty brine, she reached the shore. Gorgeous, with the countenance of both an Amazon warrior woman and delicate nymph, she turned and bade farewell to a life laden with lies and libel. Her new path a revolution, a revival and revelation.
A Free Write Friday composed on a Sunday morning. Thanks to Kellie Elmore and all the other inspirational composers for their continued support!
Nominated by the lovely poetress Annie @ http://anniesmuse.wordpress.com/
After writing and posting my 169th piece, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself nominated for the Sunshine Award! We sure could use some up here in the month of February!
So, onto the process: Write 10 facts about yourself and nominate 10 others as well.
1) I love to read and carry at least two books with me in my car daily. You never know if you’ll break down. Reading is a great thing to do while waiting for AAA!
2) I love running and have participated in the sport since I was 11. Took a break for a bit in my 20’s and love it even more in my 50’s.
3) I love yoga almost as much as running. My yoga mat is near my desk ready for use at all times. I go to a hot yoga studio weekly and am now into my 36th straight day of doing yoga with a goal for a full 365 for this year.
4) I also enjoy strength training but find it hard to do when my basement is 48 degrees. Plus, I spend a lot of time shoveling snow in the winter.
5) The ocean soothes my soul and it is in these long winter days that I miss it the most.
6) I make sure to see the sunrise and sunset everyday no matter where I am. The only obstacle is usually cloud cover!
7) I love getting my hair done. For years when I was married and the mother of young children, I kept my hair very short and got cheap haircuts. That ceased about 8 years ago when a good friend of mine paid for my haircut with her hairdresser. She spent the year convincing me to grow my hair and Voila’!
8) I am grateful to be in a healthy relationship with a wonderful man.
9) My two grown sons have turned into two good men. Very little fine tuning needed!
10) No matter what life has brought to my door, I have no regrets about the choices I have made-they helped to make me a stronger person.
And the nominees are:
1) http://dorothychiotti.com/ Consistently strong writing spoken with passion from the heart.
2) http://pinkwoods.wordpress.com/ This girl can write about pain so beautifully and with true honesty.
3) http://talichaj.com/ I love her spoken word poetry!
4) http://phylor.wordpress.com/ This writer blows me away every time!
5) http://jenniesaia.wordpress.com/ Jennie’s passionate opinions and energy ring true. I look forward to her posts all the time.
6) http://markschutter.com/ What can I say? I just love Mark. His appreciation for his life shows in all his posts and his art.
7) http://graypoet.wordpress.com/ A man with a gift for rhyme and more.
Well, I just have 7 because some of the ones I love no longer accept awards or have already been nominated for Sunshine! Quality writers here nonetheless!
Namaste’
Credit: www.fotolia.com
The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.
Mahatma Gandhi
When I round the curve in the road, my thoughts unexpectedly go back to her and that not so long ago time when she was the “other”. The past lingers for just a moment then disappears as the road straightens and I head for home.
Each week, I return to the space that provides solace and heat. A place in that not so long ago time that seemed to call my name. The road was dark then, the route unknown. Each visit an escape hatch from pain.
Perhaps I was conceited enough to believe that he would never leave-never mind deceive. Then we became another cliché. Middle-aged man leaves wife and kids for younger woman. How trite and how true.
The knowledge came in bits and pieces. An off-handed remark made by a close relative. Phone calls saying he needed to help a friend. Concentrated text messaging during our son’s sports game. A trip out of the country that appeared to happen as an unplanned event.
Then he said her name and it became all too real. Well, you can’t put words back in a box once they’ve been hung in the air. I felt slayed. Chopped up. Diced into tiny pieces. Shattered like broken glass. Tossed into the trash.
And then we met. Quite by accident. On a cold, dark holiday eve. A face to her name. Polite exchanges and then an awkward and quick exit.
It is hard to hold your head up when you feel like you’ve been slapped in the face. It is hard to stand up straight when you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut.
I needed to detox, to purge. So I took to the only path that would help peel the pain away. The space of healing energy and consolation.
Then she appeared once and again over time. In that sacred space. Ironically, it was easy to be gracious then; perhaps because she had cast him aside. Friends and relatives were aghast at my charitable demeanor while in her company. But it would have been too easy to take the low road. Did I really want or need to speak of him or treat her in a degrading way?
Certainly it would be simple to converse with someone in this way. Someone who had been naked with your husband. Easy to cause her discomfort or guilt. But I had moved on. Grown confident inwardly. Better to show healthy growth than to sow bad seeds.
Since then, there have been others with him. The door may have been a revolving one; and still could be if only in his mind. I need no “others”. I need only myself so that I may love and trust one other.
The sacred space is mine now. I share the energy with other souls bound for the glory of feeling grounded and balanced. We renew one another as we journey down our own paths; some curved others straight. Always honoring the light of one another.
“I use memories but I will not allow memories to use me.”
~ Deeprak Chopra
![trust[4]](https://magicinthebackyard.files.wordpress.com/2014/01/trust4.png?w=400)
Meeting for a late night meal
Not quite strangers, Not quite friends
But something else unborn and unspoken
A forward movement,
A relevant transition,
A certain shift
resonating between and within us
The repast remained barely consumed
Our hearts full of anticipation instead
The ease at which we came to be joined
An affirmation that it was meant to be
The darkness deepened outside
The air breathing its long December chill
But here in this space lay newborn warmth
Eyes wide open
Souls ready to receive
Two lovers sealing their covenant
A confident expectation
A credulous commitment
Thus, on this night,
in this blood-thin blackness
this achy, gasping vortex of interminable frost
A recollection of our whispered pact
soothes me in a blanket of torrid heat
Just one word this week. It can mean many things can’t it? I am grateful to have it back in my life. I took a trip down memory lane for this one. And I am glad that I still am making more with my beloved! Perfect way to end the week.
Building A Life Of Hope 