Monday, January 26, 2009

June Would Be Her Name

This girl was made for summer
For shoeless days
And wild hair drying in the sunshine
Her scent is something
Close to fresh cut grass, lavender and starlight
Skirts grace her figure making it easier to dance
Easier to take it all off and jump in the water
Laughter follows her
As well as the faint words of songs you long to know
Her words come out in shapes and colors
Dancing around your head
Making it easy to see her sense
And feel her mood
Her infectious spirit spins you
Into frenzied hyperventilation of happiness

This Side of Today

I held on to you far longer than was healthy
You lived nicely packaged under my bed
Contained in the box I made, 
The picture from your calendar decorating it.
It was amazing how 3 1/2 years 
Could fist so easily in a shoebox
Ten silver dollars, pictures and ticket stubs
All just empty reminders of the pain I carried.
Then one day, packing up life for the first time
I threw it away--and you with it
I was starting new without you
You would be a lesson I learned
A time of life I would remember
But not long for anymore.
So I ran,
I ran to find the person I had never known--
I found her in foreign countries
In the eyes of the people who loved her,
I found her in darkness
And in the light that pervaded the dark she lied in,
In the end when I had the courage 
I looked in the mirror and found her in my eyes.
I had only been lost
Because I did not know how to be found,
So now I walk
Not needing to watch my feet
The ground is not going anywhere anymore,
Eye raised watching everything
Introducing all to who I am being and becoming.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

A Portland Winter

Life is pleasant. 

It doesn't hurt that we have had sunshine and I have been able to let my feet be free in flip flops. It's also been windy so I've let my hair be wild and blow in the wind. I'm taking my first theology class and I am reveling in the amazingness of it all. I get to write statements of belief and I am excited for that because that means I have to think about what I believe and why I believe it.

I've also started swing dancing.

I think I could live on apples, sandwiches, and cups of stumptown coffee.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

living on the seam of history
experiencing the sunrise
through the lens of a daydream
not missing the perfect perfection
and the impossibility of it all
in light of discovery and nature
asking my questions
and only truly wanting your answers
because no one else knows my heart
you know the beats
and you've counted each one i've missed
so, i look to you in this watershed moment
for every unasked thought
this wrapped up in the missed beats
and in the ones that come to quickly
my ears can't hear its thrumming
but my whole body resonates with its groaning
because this space is getting small
and i don't know how much longer
or how much more my body can take
before i burst under the weight
of this moment
of this season
of this ache that is not yet defined
crying out in muffled pleas
for a glimpse
for something concrete
even for a second to lift this fog


I just keep letting you break my heart
Unable to control the memories it holds
The desires it longs for
I just wish it would warn me
Before it does something stupid like hope

Tell me, why can't I let you go?

I left you in another place
Or maybe really you left me
But if we're being honest
There wasn't "anything"
Or any "us" to leave

Tell me, why can't I let you go?

I have nothing
Except for this stupid hope I created
And locked myself in 
Without prior consent

Tell me, why can't I let you go?

I just want to be free
But freedom alludes
Teases just out of reach
While I am shackled to this false hope

Tell me, why can't I let you go?

If the annoying voice would stop shouting
Then maybe, I could give up
I just don't understand the hold
It makes no sense

Tell me, why can't I let you go?

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Perfect Response

I won't sing along,
or try to learn the words,
some songs aren't made for that.
These are the ones you simply enjoy.
You close your eyes,
lean your head back,
and imagine the warmth of sunshine in summer.
The scent of the earth,
and the wood dock under your shoulder blades.
The fresh cut grass,
and the clear night of a million stars.
Enveloped in nothing but the perfect rhythm
and clandestine beats.
It couldn't be ruined,
not today.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

A New Year

Portland feels comfortable this time. 
It has been nice to be back. 
It's almost kind of refreshing to be quiet again. 
Maybe this is exactly where I am supposed to be.
And by maybe I think I mean yes.

What a year for a new year :)