I had the craziest dream. Sweet Gardenia blossoms grew immense enveloping firestorms and chaos, masquerading all traces of ash and burn. The intoxicating scent of sweet perfume permeated the clean air, creating nursery rows of safety bubble greenhouses. A young girl’s innocence remained pure and virtuous. Flowering freedom rained dewdrops of kindness. There were no guns, no mass graves, no starvation, no rape, no death. No dead children. No hate.
Believe that you are better than Money Power Greed Hate Terrorists Trump NRA Bullies Shady Politicians Believe that if you haven’t lost someone you love To Mass Shootings You are blessed, the lucky one Pretend it won’t ever happen Pretend it’s impossible Pretend doesn’t work much these days It can’t happen? Not today, not in your town, not in your house The one safe space And then indulge me Close
I must not forget, never ever forgo this one shot at an honest life. A well-played beginning, the hold on tight middle, and a serene, admired, beloved end. I have been given this offset jewel of a life for a reason. Loosening my grip on the serrated edge, I grab tight to the rafters overhead.
If I Was Your Child Would you cover me in a coat of armor So my blood didn’t weep If I was your child Would you shield me from the dark The boogeyman man that wiggled my doorknob whilst I sleep If I was your child would you smother me with sweet scented well-meaning kisses If I was your child would you teach me all the adventurous things I needed
I look back on the road with no regret, humbled and in awe of where I have been, and the horrible days lived. I look cautiously towards the future, with trepidation, anticipation and hope. I would want no other me, no other life. I walk the path alone, without the ghosts and fantasy. Just a girl, a simpleton, beat up and worn down by a mind she can’t control, dancing
Snow falls on the grass on this almost March day, trees already in prepubescent bloom. What the fuck is happening? Global warming has her own plans, shaking things up on this insignificant, tiniest piece of the puzzle, planet earth. She is happy for the ugly, backward mess. She won’t walk today, but will curl up in silence and self-protection closing her eyes instead; drifting off and dreaming about the walkabout will suffice. In her dreams
Rain. “You and I are only human, overwrought with emotion. We will be forever duking it out with the sassy sun and silly moon to stop running with scissors, for just one breath. There is beautiful stillness under a gray, cover-clouded downpour where the rain washes away the old footprints leaving room for a blank slate and tomorrow’s sunshine.” – Jacqueline Cioffa
Passo dopo Passo I cut the grass. Big whoop dee do. To some this might seem trivial, like why the hell is grass between her toes so important? Grass between my toes, in my teeth is of the outmost importance because it means I cared enough to push myself, and get off my ass. Out of my comfort zone. Some would say shake it off, the depression, but you
Guess whose books are hanging with the fabulously, talented and sublime author, Anne Lamott (squeek), at her favorite #indiebookstore! (moi). 🙂 Thank you, Downtown Books and Coffee, and the community for the love. Shop Indie, and support local bookstores kind readers. I purchased Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life by Anne Lamott “Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to