nameless, blameless, now on paper.

I finally wrote down on paper what happened to me. And I don’t know how to feel…I had some flashbacks, some nightmares and unsettled mornings when I woke up. Some off days at work because I kept seeing his face in the air, like a ghost, only darker. And then I felt stuck. Stuck in the mud of a choice I didn’t get to make. And then I felt empowered, because I was finally able to put the events in some kind of chronological order, without allowing the memory to stop me. And it’s a wave, back and forth, a swing set of emotions I am attempting to control and navigate and let loose. And I’m trying to find some sanity within the release. Maybe it will come soon, but it’s hard now. Maybe it will never come. But, no matter what comes next, I have at least been heard by the screen that always seemed to remain daunting and blank and white as fear in front of me. Paper no longer erases my past, no longer stifles my truth. It no longer just hears, it listens and absorbs it like a sponge, accepts it like a boomerang and sends it back to me, full of power and rage and honesty and eventually peace.

And I just needed to release that.

one…two…three

There’s a monster inside,

midnight black and empty and ravenous and sucking on my breath

like a tootsie pop, trying to find the prize at the center.

“how many licks?”

but the licks are more like punches,

like lockjaw bites and roundhouse kicks in my stomach.

and it wont leave me alone.

the only time it sleeps is when i sing.

and so i sing until im hoarse, until its appetite runs its course

and it is too tired to resist a nap.

the little things…

I remember
laying my head in your lap
and
listening to Rascal Flatts
and thinking
how lucky I am to know this guy.

you were the first person I truly trusted.
nothing much has changed.
and our lives have put time and distance and
oceans between us,

but nothing much has changed.
because i love you and you love me
and we know each others’ deepest secrets and
most ridiculous wishes
and because we talked about our funerals,
what color everyone should be wearing when we die,
what brand of whiskey everyone should toast with at the reception,
what songs should play as they lower our bodies into the earth.

and we haven’t talked in a while.
but I know that you’re doing well
and that
you’re in love
and that
you’re starting to smile again and that’s amazing
and that makes me smile too.
but I miss you.
so call me sometime?

I find beauty in…

A lot of wonderful promotions and hashtags are going around, particularly #20beautifulwomenchallenge , at the moment. Which has gotten me thinking about what I find beautiful, and how I define beauty – whether that be the same or the opposite of what the media or the world seems to be defining beauty as today. Here are some rambling thoughts about beauty.

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I find beauty in the ocean. In confidence. In having faith even when life tells you not to. In blue skies and snowfalls and a cup of tea or coffee with a close friend. In tears on my pillow and in reconnecting with someone from the past. In creating new friendships. In the sadness I feel when someone does not know how truly amazing and beautiful they are – and in having the opportunity to share my true feelings with them. In men with trimmed beards and men who are clean shaven. In apologies. In women who dye their hair and women who do not. I find beauty in the strength it takes to make a stand. In the motto “don’t yuck someone else’s yum.” In music that makes you feel like dancing or crying or laughing; in wanting so badly to meet the artist who wrote the words etched in your soul. In the actions we take when we come together to fight a power that has attempted to destroy us. In giving your last five dollars to the homeless man who is always on your street – without the assumption or judgment that he will use it for drugs or alcohol; being able to give without the thought or expectation of receiving. In memoirs. In made up fantasy worlds that mean something to a generation, or that mean something to just one person. In foster parents who take in children and love them so very much, even with the knowledge that the child will be taken away in six months or less. In artists who face their fears and in athletes who defy stereotypes. In diversity. In honesty. In tattoos that cover a body, no matter what the age. In Maya Angelou’s words “Phenomenal Woman” – and in her following, because she was brilliant and honest and kind. I find beauty in a change of pace, in moving to a new place and exploring; in traveling, and how much it changes you. In chucks and flannels and timberland boots. In ginger hair. In deep brown skin. In curls and smiles and heartfelt tears. In jokes at funerals, and story time at night. In the word “chachis” and what it came to mean. In school uniforms, but not because society has a ridiculous and disgusting fetish – because that place changed my path. In ice cream and chats at three in the morning with my Dodi (grandma). In family and all its quirks. In telling someone about a traumatic event, and having their response be supportive and loving. In soft green sweaters and napping in the sun. In getting high and just soaking in the world. In being sober. In mirrors, and in the absence of mirrors. In men who wear glasses. I find beauty in dragonflies and ladybugs and the color purple. In the strength someone shows when they face a terminal illness; and in the fear that comes and goes with that knowledge. I find beauty in complicated people. I find beauty in costume jewelry, because that’s all my Nana wore. In wrinkles, because they show that you have lived. And in Dorothy Allison’s “Two or Three things I know for sure.” It changed my life.

mantra

poetry is the air I breathe.

music is the release I need.

art is the web I weave —

to speak, to concede, to believe.

spirit awakened.

i can feel it stirring,
that pitter patter of rain
in my chest.

i can sense it brewing.
i can taste it,
smooth and minty and melting,
then like pop rocks,
bouncing and
bounding and
Tickling my tongue.

i can feel it blossoming,
that cool, crazy
sigh in my gut;

a rapid beat,
a sharp intake of
wealth,
a humble caress –

a note.
a melody.

a wheel,
turning and
churning and
Bursting ahead.

peace and calm and the
absence of numb,
braiding my hair,
piercing my ears
kissing and brushing and touching my cheek.

saying, “good morning, little one.
the day is young and there’s lots to do.”
so let’s get to it.

Translucent Beginnings…

Finding a voice, my voice. Putting it down on glassy scrolls, painting it in the colors of my life – blues and greens and sunshiny yellows; never losing sight of my present, always hoping for the future. My past clears the path for what is to come. But for now, the reflection of life remains intact.

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There, at the foot of a willow tree, clouds grazing the edges of the sun, thoughts came in gushes of thousands, and slowed to trickles of one or two. Convictions and expectations and overwhelming doubts flowed with the steady force of the creek across the way. The heat of the sun beat down on my back, but the sweat on my neck only reminded me that I am human, that I am life – just like the flowers at my feet and the dragonfly on my shoulder. The only difference being nature’s total trust in what is meant to be; all will be provided, provided you pay no mind. Faith is at the heart of it all. Faith and hard work. And the beat of my heart moved more steadily in pace – the race to the finish line slowed to a trot, my past no longer chasing me, but rather standing at my side, at the ready, eager for what was soon to come.

He no longer conquered my day dreams; he was swallowed up by the sun.

(photo taken by Catherine Mueller)