This year has gone by so quickly!
It started with sushi
Friends
My child returned

It saw me marching in a night park
Practicing my salute
Willing my son into…

It saw work,
A fight on a rooftop restaurant
A new years toast by the bay
More work.

It brought summer heat
Saturdays mulching
Trying to write grants for the community
And accusations of racism from a fat white ghetto woman.

53 is coming to an end come this October.

Time to let go, to stop trying, to give myself back my life, I am not here to solve the world’s problems, it can solve its own problems,
Everyone is in charge of their own problems.

It is time to only give to me.

Terrible fear, what frightens me?
I’ve forgotten to do something
Time is running out.

We are leaving for Kentucky
Riding the bourbon trail
Getting ready to drive into an endless day.

I want time to be endless
Wrapping around day to night
To night to day

I want one continuous hour
Where I never have to be anywhere
And can decide not to go anyway.

I am getting ready to shed
All things that poison
An otherwise beautiful day.

Om shanti peace walk
Sound bath vibrations
Life does not have to hurt.

where: Baltimore
what are you looking forward to?

Play with color, image

Green

Isolated in the center green, without much knowledge
of what the others tended to want or feel. The orange desk is rooted in the corner adjacent to the empty bed.

Falling petals, yellowing grasses, hazy mid-mornings,
draping the bluing backdrop until he popped,
delighting while sliding along the orange *****.

Lifting off from below the violet swell, spilling out onto the day,
dead trees, brittle brown, scaring the babies.

Candlelight illuminates the brown chair casting shadows where he once sat, moonlit white shown along the river's edge.



Lifting off from below the violet swell, spilling out onto the day,

draping the bluing backdrop until he popped

delighting while sliding along the orange *****

moonlit white shown along the river's edge

Falling petals, yellowing grasses, hazy mid-mornings

dead trees, brittle brown, scaring the babies.

the orange desk is rooted in the corner adjacent to the empty bed

Candlelight illuminates the brown chair casting shadows where he once sat

Send to: Cathy

I am.
they say this is a false self,
clinging to my feelings.

but they are there, I feel them.

"The poet, the wise philosopher, and the saint not only reach a wide luminous consciousness, but they gain certain knowledge of substantial reality." says Patanjali.

but this poet clings to her self, because she feels, and they say this is wrong, I am doing this wrong, this wisdom, this living.

I know I am doing this wrong because I keep getting kicked out, exiled, left out, forgotten, ignored, smeared; and so my feelings keep happening, and I continue to cling, to cherish, only myself, because no one else does.

It cannot be that a mother is happy
when her child is not.
Where is the logic to a mother's joy
and a child's sorrow?
Sacrilege to the balance and order of life
if a mother's dreams emerge
while her offspring withers during the hours of the day.
This cannot be.

It is the child that brings the joy to the whole of the world.
They are the moisture that springs life into being,
children are the songs that move our lives,
the rhythms that pound us into motion.

How can a mother feel the high notes when her child is morose?
Even if she wanted to laugh, her heart would pierce itself with a dagger sent from the mind,
"Your child is miserable.
It is not right for you to feel happiness now."

You didn’t know me. We kind of pretended to like each other because we wanted ***. And so we pretended to have a relationship. But  we really didn’t. This is a hardship. This is a struggle. Something to take on together. Otherwise, we are just living our own individual lives in tandem. This is the first piece of honesty that has shown itself in our relationship. This is the first sign of weakness. No, I don’t want it to happen again. I want to be cured of it. I want it expelled from my heart by the power of love. I want someone to wrap me up tightly in their arms and shush me as they rock me back and forth promising they will help me to overcome. I want their patience, acceptance, and understanding to be stronger than the anger and frustration that boils me inside. I want their kindness and devotion to give me the time to get better. I want them to watch over me as I grow. I am still the 19 year old girl living in her own flat for the first time in her life. I am still the maiden waiting to be molded by the man who becomes captivated by her youth and beauty. She has never been found, she is still waiting, hoping. Until…time runs out, and then she is thinking of building the walls, so she shares herself with no one, for their own protection.

There is no way to find happiness between us,
with the amount of suffering we have caused one another.

I’ll not cross your path again, and you should not cross mine.

Even though I long for what we had,
I know it will never be the same.