big girl

I really don't need you
or anyone to try and
take care of me.
I've been looking after myself
for such a long time
that I can't--
I can't let you in
I can't let myself melt
in your arms.
I have to be strong enough
to do everything on my own
otherwise who knows
what might happen to me.
So you can just go along
on your merry way,
don't give me another thought,
I'm a big girl.
I have been for a long time.

I just am

Somedays I do not know
why everything seems
to be a shade of gray.
I feel no colors on this day
not yellow,
nor green,
nor red,
nor magenta,
nor even blue:
just gray.
But if you asked me why
I could never explain
only shake my head and say
"I just am."

"Goal Setting"

Okay, so this is not a poem it's kind of a rant or maybe a thought, anyway it's my blog and my thoughts so I'll write whatever I want. So who remembers the first day of school in elementary, and even sometimes in high school. Your teacher would hand you some sort of paper and give you a half an hour and tell you to write down your goals for the year. I HATED this. I always have, and when for some reason I'm forced to do it again, I still hate doing this. First off, in grade school was there really that much going on in my life that I could set goals for myself? I think I wrote the same thing like every time "I want to do my homework earlier and work harder" total lie. Sure maybe the first week I would but after that I didn't care anymore, in fact as time went on I think I probably left things to the last minute even more than I did before I was forced to goal set every year. and I mean really? Teachers probably got like the same answers from every kid in their classes. Does this exercise even help later in life? I can't even think of a time when it's helpful. Apparently google thinks it is because when I tried to find links about it being stupid it only gave me links about how important goal setting is... but for what?
Suppose your goal is to get a better job. You research ways to buff up your resume; you bribe people to be better references for you; you search the classifieds and online for job listings... then you apply and hand out your resumes. A big part of this goal you can't really attain on your own because you don't actually decide if you get hired, so goal setting didn't really help you there.
Um... suppose your goal is to spend less money so you make it your goal to go shopping less. and then you "achieve" it by shopping less.
So what's my point? Is goal setting really that helpful, I mean most of these "goals" people set seem to just be putting common sense into practice. So if you're a teacher and you're reading this, unless you can give me 5 good reasons for goal setting, please stop torturing your kids on the first day of school.
This post was not really meant to be that persuasive but was meant more for me to publicly express my distaste towards "goal setting".

Unsaid

Sometimes it is not
the words of others lips
that hang stiff in the air
like the calm before
a thunderstorm,
but it is the words
that have not graced
anyone's lips.
Sometimes it is
the unsaid words
which echo over
and over
and over again
within the walls our heads
repeating what we know
but cannot bare to hear.
And although when they resound
out loud by those
we love and despise most,
at the same time,
we cringe as the hit our ears
like a strong slap on the cheek
we know they are sometimes
just what we need to hear.
but sometimes those words
are left unsaid.

Laundry

There is something
so comforting in the
simple chore of laundry.
Taking old, worn clothes
and washing them clean.
Ridding them of stains
wringing them out
and hanging them on a line
to dry with the swaying wind.
It's work for the hands
and the soul.
Then at twilight
returning to catch
the setting sun,
with it's own robes
of pinks and oranges
smile upon you
as you collect the clean
and fragrant articles
they seem almost new
as if a day of rest
and refreshing outside
was all they needed.

Sickening

The big blue 'H'
on the side of the tall
and wide, maze of a building
is warning enough
that when you step in
you feel at ill-ease.
The stench of death, disease
and stale urine lingers
under the odor of anti-septic
that matches the white walls.
All hope seems lost here:
with all the sick
and the suffering;
the nurses and needles.
But I remember that this
was the very place that I came
screaming into the world.
It is the place where so
many die but so many are also born.

Bruises

Some pain evaporates
with time and healing,
it sifts away
like sand
running through
the cracks
of a closed fist,
until it's just
like a bruise
that you remember
only when you touch
it or see the
deep colour
under the surface
of your skin.

Freedom

There's an unsaid line
that has the habbit
of playing in my mind
the reminder of our
inability to run from
everything.
Some things are anchors
that we drag behind us.
Heavy weights
we struggle against
but no matter how hard
we try or fast we run
they're chained to us.
Attached to our bones.
It's not always visible,
some people see it--
they look past the cringing
the gritted teeth,
the obvious exhaustion;
and they know what's there.
There is one who sees
who also holds a key.
And if you'll let him
get close enough
he'll unlock you
and eventually break the chains.
in the end
you'll be stronger with him
walking with you
than you could ever imagine
all those years
of dragging
and then the pure
freedom
of nothing holding
you back.

Bridge

In the middle
of the snow covered
and empty lake-bed--
drained in the winter
for the spring
overflow--
there's an old
support;foundation
for a bridge
that no longer exists
much like the one
that was burned
between us.
I see it in the winter
exposed, and protruding
out, a reminder
of what once was.
In the summer
I forget, it gets burried
under so much water
it becomes invisible
much like I tried
to make you.
The day I burned our
bridge.

Second Glance

I haven't the slightest clue
why I had this sudden urge
to pull out the x-ray
in front of my heart
and leave it exposed
for you to examine.
It's not like you'd
even take a second
glance.

To Do

Sleepless tonight
a hundred thoughts
stream across my mind.
I owe my friend money
I do not have.
My bike is still
rusting in the snow.
Homework is past due.
So much reading I'm
behind on.
I need a job later
I need a better
resume.
Maybe it's time to
surrender it all
into your hands and
finally get some
real sleep.

Light

The air might be cold,
but today the sun spoke
and whispered to me
that it knows for certain
winter cannot last.
And warmth began to fill me
from inside as I was reminded
that light is always stronger
than darkness; with that warmth
came utterly beautiful hope.

White

Can you tell me what
a flower looks like
I can scarcely remember
seeing them in the ground.
What does the warmth
of the sun on your face
feel like?
Or dipping into a cold
pool of water on a hot day.
Winter seems to erase
everything and replace
it with cold sterile white.

Dark

It is on
clear winter nights
such as these
that I remember
stepping out into the cold
--my breath, a vapor
visible in the air.
The chill of the night
caressing my cheeks--
to walk about
while other slept,
and think the deep thoughts
no one dared to dream.
I remember that winter well,
the cigarettes and my dog
the only warmth
I would feel until spring.
It's odd how we long
for pain sometimes...
I'll never be able to explain
why on nights like this
I wish I could go back
and live in the dark
for one more night.

Still Winter

The laundry is done
and hanging in the room.
It smells like spring
like my backyard
with sunshine on my face.
But today is cloudy
and I still see
the mounds of snow
and feel winters deep chill
seeping into my bones.
It still feels
like I'm dying
a very slow
death.

Ache

Some days I do not
know why my heart
aches so.
As if it has never
been made whole;
never healed
by the aged and tender
hands it was entrusted to.
Maybe it's just time
to put it through
the wash once again
and hang it out to dry.

Robins

I've always been fond
of robins.
There's something sweet
about their cheery
disposition noted in
the song that often
awakens me on spring mornings.
There first arrival
let's me know Spring
is truly near.
So it was quite odd
to see so many robins gather
on the snow covered branches
of trees in early February.
They came suddenly,
a hundred or more;
I happened to glance over
through the window,
sitting eating breakfast,
to see them all
staring back at me.
So out of place.
Then they flew away
just as suddenly
in a rush of wings and wind.
I wonder if I'm the only one
who saw them.
Maybe they came
to remind me
I'm not the only creature
who feels out of place.