Could get lost tonight

City - Sara Bareilles

There's a harvest each saturday night
At the bars filled with perfume and hitching a ride
A place you can stand for one night and get gone
It's clear this conversation ain't' doing a thing
Cause these boys only listen to me when i sing
And i don't feel like singing tonight
All the same songs

Here in these deep city lights
Girl could get lost tonight
I'm finding every reason to be gone
Nothing here to hold on to
Could i hold you?

The situation's always the same
You got your wolves in their clothes whispering Hollywood's name
Stealing gold from the silver they see
But it's not me

Here in these deep city lights
Girl could get lost tonight
I'm finding every reason to be gone
There's nothing here to hold on to
Could i hold you?

Calling out somebody save me i feel like i'm fading away
Am i gone?
Calling out somebody save me i feel like i'm fading

In these deep city lights
Girl could get lost tonight
I'm finding every reason to be gone
There's nothing here to hold on to
Could i hold on to you?

Wedding Wisting

Things are freakishly good right now with the hubs... a very good friend of mine is about to get married, and there's some super sweet chit chat going on at APW about wedding memories. So since I have no idea if I already wrote these things down or not, here's just a few things I will (hopefully) always remember... or at least, I remember after more than 2.5 years:

- my sister saying I looked like Alice in Wonderland peering around the trees, when i was looking for my prince waiting at the other end of the garden for our private moment
- crying the minute I saw him
- not crying from then on for the rest of the wedding day
- sinking my bare toes down into the sand and feeling the stress and excitement melt away into peace and joy
- discovering that my dad had put extreme amounts of thought into both our walk down the aisle and our first dance
- the impromptu addition of my sisters and dad to the laying on of hands my bridesmaids and mom did before i saw chris
- the nausea that permeated the morning prior to that moment
- getting the phone call from my brother in law who couldn't come on the way to get ready
- laughing laughing laughing at the ceremony
- chris's groomsmen beaming at me
- dom picking up my shoes and bringing them to me
- the flowers wilting and dunking them in the fountain to see if they'd revive
- listening to the party going on without us and kind of enjoying it
- the hug i got from my uncle
- the kiss on the cheek i got from ben
- the hugs i got from my cousin's daughter, and her saying i was the prettiest bride she'd ever seen
- stealing as many hors doeuvres as i could before we had to go sit for dinner
- trying to go talk to people while they ate dinner and not making it to more than 2 tables
- running out of sangria and ordering more
- dancing in the circle around the courtyard fountain with all my friends
- dancing dancing dancing in that white dress
- chris's dad dancing with me
- the perfect sunset
- the bubble bath explosion
- clearly choosing to give up the magical sheen surrounding us from getting married and go have brunch with my mom the next morning out of nowhere, as a gift to her.

and it occurs to me, for the first time since then, .... did we start the ceremony late? which is funny because i clearly clearly decided that time did not matter very early on that day... but now i'm curious.

Home again. In the place where my inclinations are real and heard, but my words must be chosen carefully, since what we have created is a forever place. I hear the calls of a favored few, needing to know they are not alone. I even hear the calls of those who blinked out without hellos or goodbyes along the way. Our bodies move us in and out of space, increasingly less likely to reach the same spot twice. I am waiting now for the signs I need to see. I am offering my gratitude to the angels who bring me treasured tokens of joy. Paddling the waves of life is no metaphor, the tides are real, the depths scary. The sun is either hot or hidden, the clouds can always mean rain. I'm looking for the other kayakers, as usual, and keeping my eyes on that point on the horizon where heavenly rest awaits. I know we'll get there while we are still breathing. I have been there before. Just keep moving towards it, just keep afloat. We tell ourselves what we need to know to keep from going under.

cleaning out the poetry cache

my days are infused with lessons
and the themes overlap
the moments work together to tell me things.
i have learned that we get tired
and sometimes the path is so rough that we fall down
but even when the distance between springs is far
we must keep walking

i have learned that opening is painful
and there is resistance on the inside to change
but there are treasures to be found beyond the strain
we must keep breathing

i have learned that life is crazy
and can knock us over without warning
but even when our hearts are broken
we must keep living

i have learned that i know little
and the search for truth is elusive and long
but there is still much to be learned, and so
we must keep trying

i have learned that we are all connected
and no life is borne alone
to have the strength to walk, to breathe, to live, to try,
we must keep loving

poem: reach catch close

perhaps we are all transparent
to one another
shimmering in our frail shells
completely awake and yet asleep
to our own patterns
we pounce on the obvious flaws
of those around us
and then forgive with thoughtless haste
or burdened pride
rarely offering a simple gesture
of recognition
yes we are all innately broken
the holes are rarely filled
in looking back
we discover our own mistakes
and have a choice:
attempt to hide our humanness
behind fragile walls,
or reach through the fabric
to catch each other
in a sweet soft embrace
pulling together
to close the gaps.

poem: her bare shoulder

her bare shoulder

we offer you, sun,
our bodies to be washed in light,
as we live outside
where man-made walls do not separate,
living with vigor, with joy,
letting the freckles appear on our arms
as we lift our children,
as we plant our seeds,
as we reach for each other and squeeze.
there is something powerful
about a woman's shoulder
where the arm begins
the curving shadows of muscle -
it is not the feminine of fainting
or frailty
but it is the feminine of creation
and strength
that comes from giving our bodies
to the light
from living outside, bare with truth,
from offering all that we have
to the world.

it doesn't make a good story
sure there are some parts that come out nice
brightly colored and visual interest
but generally no i don't have something fascinating to say
just that being human is this thing
that overwhelms my senses and my soul
that loving is so hard when it's for real
that i know that suffering is what you have to do
to get to something beautiful
that when something seems close its an illusion
but that's nothing you don't already know
basically i'm just trying not to repeat my mistakes
or the mistakes of those who've gone before
i'd really like to get through with a few true friends
and without hurting anyone i really love
it's hard when what you need isn't available
and asking doesn't bring it any closer
and pouting just reflects the darkness back to you
but i feel alone in those moments
when i feel stuck in the wrong direction

even this poem can't be beautiful
it's just what i have to say right now
and whether or not it's enough
my choice is to love it or not.

sincerity (a poem)

i need words more than they need me
they force my driftless mind into sudden surety
the one direction i can find
i must find
they are a solitary venture
which for me is a necessary escape
from a life filled with responses
a life where i am an evolving creature
ever fastened by the styles and patterns of others
taking on what is necessary to realize my self
i also leave behind my essences
momentarily
a dangerous adventure
(since they are inescapable).

in almost thirty years
i have been a thousand versions of my self
epically losing and finding
my way
i am a willing inhabitant
on this turning earth that somehow
turns hours into lifetimes
i have never resisted the passing of time
and she has begun to show her kindnesses
returning objects that offer solace
in their familiar company
linking me with selves i was once
and always want to be.

i need colors and creations that are only mine
in ways i cannot explain
like the face that stares back at me
with knowing eyes
at once foreign and intimate
she is my destiny and my muse
i realize she is always with me
waiting to see what will be preserved
when i step into my world
start shedding language
shredding intentions and anticipations.
i can feel her more closely now
above the din of instinct's clatter;
i can speak her truths.
is it age making me honest?
or am i relearning something i knew better
once before?

Change

i'm still adjusting
to this my unexpected perfect home
still finding it dreamy
and content
but somewhat shattered by the
completeness of the changes.
the loneliness surprises me
making me wonder if
the task is to get more comfortable being
free to know myself truly
or if i need to practice being
free to be myself anywhere.

The beauty of tears
graces my face
working my way through words
to get my heart into the light
preoccupied by skyward motion
forgetting to watch my step
i fall into you
knocking you off the boat.
we owe each other
attention to the small things
is it easier to celebrate the major victories
than it is to cherish the silent moments
of authentic joy?
is it easier to carry each other's biggest burdens
or to notice the small wounds
forming out of sight?
and who decides what matters most
do we allow each other
to set the standards by which we interact
or do we impose our own values
on relationships?
it is usually the questions
and not the answers
that break me down.