Independence Day

I had forgotten this
simplicity.
bare feet
belly laughs
warmth.

I've lived on the edges a long time
I know a million different words for
hunger
But today?
There's not enough language
to say "thank you"

I've grown up in a world of abandoned people. If I could put a finger on one thing that we, as humans are REALLY adept at doing to eachother-- its leaving. Parents leaving children, lovers walking away from one another, children and grandchildren leaving elderly family to live out the end of their days alone in a nursing home.

Because leaving, is easy.  Even when its hard, its easy. Its in our nature. Self preservation is a powerful thing.

I grew up always wondering when the other shoe was going to drop. When some man would leave my mother, or she would leave him. When my dad would decide we were worth sacrificing a weekend for. When we'd move again, and I'd uproot and leave behind four walls I had just grown accustom to.

So, is it really surprising that I still expect most people I love and care for to leave? To become fed up with me, and decide its not worth it? Even in the face of all the evidence to the contrary-- my blood still runs cold far too often. That panic that I really will end up alone in the world. Not what my family wants me to be, not who my friends thought I should be. Not---anything worth staying for.

salvation

I was taught to both have fear and faith
In that which I could not see
As if blindness could be both my downfall and my salvation
I knew from day one
I was full of sin
And would never
measure.
up.
So, no wonder I walk through my life
having never quite felt I was enough.
But I have pried open my own chest
Just to get a look
and I don't see where all that evil
Supposedly resides...
But you know what i don't trust?
Perfection.
Mirror images.
And anyone or anything that claims to have all the answers.
If you think you have all the answers
you  aren't asking enough of the right questions.

Regimes

I grew up in a world full of rules.
Every waking second of our tiny lives regulated by jesus, and mom and the clock. In that order.
I remember straining my six year old hand to make perfect letters, in perfectly straight lines, exactly one and a half inches from the border of the line-less printer paper we practiced our cursive on. My teacher literally measured with a ruler- our borders. Nuns have nothing  on bored Southern Baptist housewives entertaining classrooms full of tiny regimes of obedient children.


Needless to say, I wasn't one of those obedient ones. 

This morning the outside is still stormy
And mostly I was just hoping to find you in my bed.
Sleeping like you were waiting for me,
I guess I don't have any wishes saved up
I threw all my pennies in a wishing well
Just asking for the existence of you

And that
is perfect.

tuesday

Outside the rain and the sirens march into Tuesday
And I am in your bed
Thankful for this room that smells like you.
And while today we return to the life that calls us
I can think of no better way to say I love you
Than thank you.

Overheard while waiting for a bus:

Two men arguing about the price of a boat.
This boat,
anyone could see
Was a giant
piece of shit.
Rusted and peeling, clearly weather worn
This old man
Was so attached to this boat
beyond any reason
or excuse.
but while trying to ascertain its value
The young man said
"give me a ballpark"

A ballpark.
Give me a ballpark.
Something to gauge your value on.
Are you a pinch hitter
or a home run?