The Man in the Suit

 

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Dreaming

A premonition in my bones

Knowing our paths would cross

The hundred pounds of nails was removed today

Each purge of your physical reminders lessens the load

Creates space

 Soon to be crushed in some forsaken landscape

Buried in parts unknown

Or incinerated

Mere smoke filtered first before billowing in the Spring sky

We stood in the same line

One you never shared with me so long ago

Your ensemble makes you look important

But I know what it hides

A man who lacks a moral compass

And possesses a criminal mind

Better not to  speak

The atmosphere would be contaminated

Toxified by your breath

False manners emanating from your mouth 

If the strangers among you only knew

What you have done and whom you’ve become

 But I-I am the ultimate stranger

An alien from a former life that no longer seems real

A happy human now

I laugh at the end of the counter with a friend

Awaiting morning warmth

Giggling at the  circumstance

Relieved relaxation

Affirmed in my foreboding

Those damn nails couldn’t hold me in the cage you built

Or was it a coffin?

One hundred pounds laid to waste

Much like you

Save Yourself

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Earlier this week,  artist extraordinaire and fellow blogger, Sharon Cummings (sharoncummings) posed a question for her followers. At the end of her post, she asked “What is your saving grace?”  (http://sharoncummings.wordpress.com/2014/05/20/my-saving-g-r-a-c-e/)

The question certainly intrigued me and inspired me to think about what mine might be. Or maybe help me to further define what Grace means to me. I wrote about Grace in a different context last January ( A State of Grace). While I believe that message stills holds true for me today, I also believe that Grace is a multifaceted state of being.  In fact, I thinks it is a huge part of yourself that defines your essence and helps you to survive.

I know that I lost my Grace over time during the course of  my first marriage. The insidiousness of verbal and emotional abuse eats away at your identity  and stops the clock on what makes you tick until you feel hollow inside. It was only during my divorce proceedings (and the endless post divorce shenanigans on his part) that I began to redevelop my inner Grace.

I recall  a moment in July of 2008 when my soon to be ex-husband told me “I hope you scratch, crawl and suffer.” These words were a match that lit my fire. It was clear that he was determined to undermine me financially and emotionally. I was not going to let that happen. The course of events that unfolded over the next few years were tests of my ability to withstand hardship and to stand up for what I believed was right for my own life as well as my sons’.  It was by no means easy. When I felt myself about to fall off the edge,  I would remember the words that my mother said to me, “Don’t let him break you.”

My saving grace is my tenacity. The  positive stubbornness which provides the seeds for stamina and strength. The bold determination to carve out a life for myself.  The confidence that I can and will solve problems and make decisions that empower me. And the faith that all will be well no matter what.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sipping Freedom

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Tori pushed the pedal to the metal as she rounded the curve on the not yet familiar rural road. The predawn air was cool but she had rolled down the top of her jeep anyway. Eager to breathe in the scent of pine and dirt and cleanse herself of last night’s forays and rumblings. She hadn’t any time to shower.  With a nearly two-hour drive back and her kids to get off to school and herself to get off to work,  a shower fell off the list of things to do.

This was the first night she spent at Max’s place. Normally, he would stay at her house when her kids were with their father. But the modest cape on the suburban cul-de-sac was at once gossip central in her neighborhood and at odds with the passionate love affair she had recently begun with Max. She wanted and needed a separation between her life as a mother and a newly single woman.  Lack of privacy seemed the norm once you had children. Neighbors and friends always asking after them and their activities, how they were doing in school. Inevitably, the conversation steered towards you and your interests and activities. That’s what people were after anyway.

She stole a glance at the early spring sky. Sunrise soon. The few clouds a wispy gray and brushstrokes of tangerine. She buried her wish to be free of  the chains of motherhood. She loved her children.  Aslain and Anton were precocious 11-year-old twins who kept her on her toes. Both demanding and entertaining. Full of spunk. Truly replicas of herself at that age and what she continued to be  until her marriage to Eddie sucked her self out of herself.

The ride on this road was the beginning of her new beginning.  An awakening and a reawakening.  She sipped her coffee Max brewed for her as she attempted to dress herself.  For each zip of her fly and buttoning of her shirt, he would be doing the opposite until she finally gave up. They made love one last time while waiting for the coffee to finish.  She knew she was half dressed and still moist and she didn’t care. It tasted good.

She shifted into fifth and roared down the highway.

 

Kellie Elmore offered us the best challenge ever for Free Write Friday.  This piece has been stirring inside me since last fall. And it has been trying to tell itself more so than ever this week.  Just haven’t been able to get the words down. So here’s the start of something I hope!

 

You have a story in you. Everyone does. And I challenge you to take the first step toward telling it. The prompt this week can only come from you. That idea you once had. Or maybe it’s that idea you just had. That story that hasn’t been told that you want to hear, it needs you to bring it to life. And it all begins with one step. That first opening line on that first page of that first chapter. What does it say? That is your prompt.  

Just see how far it takes you. 🙂

The Magic of a Long Run

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One of my favorite parts of the week is Sunday morning. Actually, Sunday mornings when I am training for another half-marathon to be precise.  By the time I have laced up my shoes, I have already mapped out the run in my head. There is a kernel of excitement and an inner energy stirring in my brain. I feel almost twitchy in my muscles (stretched to near perfection from Saturday morning’s 90 minute marathon of hot yoga!).

I am what you call a running purist. I keep things simple. No doodads or hoohas of technology adorn my body. No solid foods for energy boosting during the run. Definitely water, though. I have been known to place water bottles at strategic mile markers along a route as I despise water belts (although I own one and have worn it from time to time) They interfere with my stride, really. I actually prefer a loved one to meet me along the course with liquid refreshment; it’s a great incentive to keep going!

That being said, there are times when I have too many thoughts spinning in my head and demons dominating my domain. Most of the time, a straight-on run with the sounds of nature give me peace. But on the rare occasion when music is a soothing solution, I confiscate my oldest son’s Ipod. You never know what you will find  when you listen, just as you never know how you’ll expect to feel as your feet hit the pavement and pound out mile after mile. The music is the best kind of mix. I can be cruising along and Wyclef Jean will pop on, only to be followed by John Coltrane and then Adele. Seventies rock, Dave Matthews, Lady Gaga, Brad Paisley and Frank Sinatra keep me company on my ever changing route.

On this particular Sunday, I chose a more challenging route than usual.  Of course, the area where I live does not lack for hills but the route I planned has more than its usual share. And to add to the pain, the last 3 miles were essentially uphill!  At times during a run, the most difficult parts of a course can reek havoc on my mental strength- most especially when I feel vulnerable or have a lot on my plate. And this is where my rare use of the Ipod comes in handy.

With 2.5 miles or so to go,  a favorite song of mine came on. Martina McBride’s “Independence Day” is a piece that gives me strength and makes me want to shout out loud.  Although I have not directly experienced the exact situation spoken of in the song, the theme certainly is the same.  The refrain, ‘let freedom ring’ is my anthem! And days or hours or even minutes when the devil of the past pokes me, this song lifts me up. I was so grateful for the timing. I was dog tired with fatigue and I had six more hills to climb. With each refrain, I was able to dig deep, lean in and lift my legs (needless to say, I replayed it!). With a mile to go, the hills were done and so was the Ipod.  The battery gave out just in time and I ran the last mile in perfect peace.

And really, this is all I need. Quiet and room to breathe. A means to slough off the negative energy that invades my spirit sometimes.  I haven’t felt as good on my subsequent runs this week as I did on Sunday, but that is okay. The mornings have been cool and beautiful with the sun rising earlier each minute. The birds serenade my miles.

I think of Sunday and dream of distance.

 

Temporary Darkness

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She stood in line at the cafe’; nearly anonymous in her cloak. Her hands in the front pouch, her movements silent and slight.  She nourishes herself  in the feeling of wanting to be hidden. To shroud herself in the hood of her over sized sweatshirt.  To comfort herself in the October night’s darkness and seek the void.  Mint tea and chocolate were necessary and perhaps a better alternative to a glass of red wine or a shot of tequila. She wasn’t drinking these days anyway. Hadn’t had even a sip of lightning in over a year.

She spent the day being stripped of her dignity. Questions asked.  Barbs and jabs. Silent jeers. Scoffs and sneers from across the table, trapped in that room for hours. It was about as soothing as walking barefoot on gravel. His false accusations and twisting of the truth had her seeing red. Was this once the man who made her heart sing?

She knew it was just another step in the process. Probably the worst or most unlucky bit of the situation. Positively draining.  Self-comfort was necessary. When she placed her order, the sympathetic manager touched her hand and leaned in as if to give her a hug.  She handed her the tea and treat. “It’s on me,” she said. Her eyes brimming and her throat in a grip, she managed to eke out her welled up appreciation.

The hole of blackness still overwhelmed her. But somewhere -not too deep inside herself- were the beginnings of the path toward that pinprick of light.

 

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This week’s prompt from Kellie Elmore was a five word bank. I had started writing a story last night without seeing this week’s prompt ( By 9pm last night I was tucked in listening to The Moth Radio Hour-great storytelling show, by the way!). Her words fit perfectly into what I had drafted. This piece was born of a small trigger; I was removing my hoodie sweatshirt when a flash of memory came flooding back prompting me to get the ideas out of my head before they festered!  The word prompts from Kellie are below:

Red – Mint – Gravel – Sing – Unlucky

A Self-Portrait in Flowers

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I am no shy wallflower or shrinking violet

No pansy that wilts in the cold

 

Perhaps I am a Daisy:

Spirited and filled with the joyful innocence of a child

 Or Baby’s Breath:

Magnificent and Sublime seeing the beauty in all things

Maybe a Chrysanthemum :

Speaking my  truth and wearing my cape of honesty

 Definitely a Freesia:

Exuding positive energy

 Or Better yet a Gardenia:

Pure joy never postponed

Never a doubt about Gladiolus:

Strength and determination. I wear my sword well!

 My armor-  A Hydrangea:

Resolved to persevere

 A Lavender Chick For Sure:

Gorgeous and fragrant and exotic with the promise of new adventure

 A Magnolia of Steel (of course):

Unrelenting  dignity

Orchid: It makes me sigh:

Always I feel the pull of powerful romantic desire!

Three Old Bitches

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You know, I didn’t think we’d survive in that pounding surf  

Tell me about it, Myrtle. It felt like a hurricane was sweeping over the Gulf 

No, No Myrna, it was the gosh darn pelicans thinking we were still housing those crabs

True enough Phyllis. Thank goodness those babies flew the coop a long time ago.

Well, I certainly was relieved when we washed up on shore at sunset!

Yes, indeed a beautiful sight just in time for a little shut-eye

Only to be rudely awakened by that beach loader. Geez, just when we relax, we get moved again

Now, Myrtle, you have to admit the driver was a hottie!

Oh I must say I was getting a case of the vapors when he laid me down in the sand…  

Well girls, I have to admit that he sure picked a cozy spot for the three of us

Until that middle aged beach babe spotted us…

Yes girls but she has a plan, I believe

Well, it looks like we’re going for a ride since she plopped us down right beside her truck 

OOh I am all a- flutter Myrtle,  I hear there’s some BIG conch shells in these parts!

Myrna, I think you’ve got  a bit too much sand stuck that shell of yours. Those conchies are always after the younger set

You’re right about the sand Phyllis and we’re about to get some shaken loose. It’s been a long time…

 

Our Lovely Miss Kellie presented us with a most original prompt this week! I left out the mystery since I had taken this photo earlier this month and knew I would use it someday in my writing. It fit perfectly for today’s prompt. My oldest son came up with the title after he saw the photo and dared me to use it!

Here is your FWF prompt:

per·son·i·fi·ca·tion
pərˌsänəfiˈkāSHən/
noun
 1.
the attribution of a personal nature or human characteristics to something nonhuman, or the representation of an abstract quality in human form.
Select something nonhuman and write about it as though it were human. It is up to you whether or not you reveal what it is, but I have found it a lot of fun to leave it a mystery and allow others to guess at what you were writing about. 🙂 Have fun!

Once upon a Time

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What once was daunting is now empowering

What once had me nearly on my knees has given me wings

What once left me stoic in silence has made me loquacious with laughter

What once gave me grief  has given me the gift of profound joy

What once left me shackled, tied to the metaphorical bedpost

has posted bail and declared me innocent and unbound

What once left me invisible has made me someone worth remembering

What once left me feeling lonely and isolated

has made me feel inhabited in my solitude

and a gleeful player on the world’s stage

A Grifter’s Rap

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Would you ever really know if your beloved strayed?

Or would you believe that you’ve been duplicitously played?

His absences explained so charmingly

As you played your role so willingly

You hang on long for the children’s sake

As you think he still loves you

Those vows he would not break

But he did so again and again

Not always with another

But with the click of a pen

When at last he made the ultimate exit

That last gasp to leave

You thought it was with money

That he did deceive

To fall in with another was too hard to believe

Looking back on it now-it was so long ago

All those scenes so intense 

And his emotions: a mere pretense 

You realize SHE was his reason for love’s final blow

But no matter now, this memory is like vapor

A mischievous muse’s attempt at a silly old caper

The mind goes awry

No need to know why

He’s nothing but a blip in your mind’s eye

Why I Run

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I run for no specific reason

I run because I like to feel the morning air on my face

The dark nip of winter

The welcoming breeze of spring

The heat of summer

and the tri-colored relief of  autumn

I run to  feel the aches

as I first shuffle my feet

and the sweet release as I enter my stride

 I run to see the changes in my world reveal themselves bit by bit

I run to listen to the day’s first stirrings

and the night’s final slumber

to hear the coyotes’ howls

the red tail’s hunt

the snort of  deer

and the yip of the fox 

I run to peek at Venus, my morning star in the east

I run to watch the moon’s final rise at the first mile

and the sun’s first with one to go

I run to breathe, to think (or not)

I run because I want to feel alive

and take in my daily dose of peace