“Baby”

Hi, guys.  I’m not sure where this one came from.  Let’s just go with it?  And, I promise this is not turning into a poetry blog.  eeeeeeeeee!

xoxo

photo cred

**

One day
moments past your bitter phone call
I sat twiddling a stick in the midst of the tallest trees
that I’d ever seen.

I sat thinking of the better days
when life was a sweet ride
and you were all that I ever needed.
The better days
before the mess of our relations
destroyed my sheer existence;
before the late nights kept me up to no end
wondering when you’d come home.
The better days before I was the one to blame
for every unnecessary pill that you ever took.

It was hard to find better
after our love was cut short
after you decided that you’d given up
even after you called to say that
maybe you would give this one more try.

But baby; now I’m in these woods.
I’m with the twiddled stick in the middle of the tallest trees
that I’ve ever seen
and I decided that the best possible thing
to do without you
would be to walk for miles into this forest
and shed all the clothes that you ever gave me.
I decided to bare myself against this barren earth
and discover if sunlight and bird chirps and sweet melodies of animalistic life
still exist without our love.

In the middle of this hike
I tripped, and fell
into the deepest cavern that I’ve ever seen
where darkness fears light so much
it won’t even let a single speck come in.
I tripped thinking about your last attempt;
how you promised to give it your best shot
and what that might be like.

But baby, would you traverse down this ravine to come sit with me?
Would you listen to every pitter patter of the rain drops
as they drip off every swollen crack?
Would you hold my naked body in your arms and sing me soothing lullabyes
while across this cavernous room
crows circle my decaying heart?

Because I would bet every dollar to my name
every dollar I could ever find
that the more likely scenario
is that I will muster every morsel within these fragile limbs
I will harbor every ounce of water that ever falls into this abyss
so that I can climb
the three-thousand, five-hundred and twenty-six steps out of this hell hole
to the safety of another world.

Another world where weeks later
I will walk past you on the street
while wearing your favorite sundress
with a wry smile on my face
and a mysterious look in my eyes
which will inquisitively send you
the visible whispers of my soul;
murmurs that will undoubtedly say
that my life is better
so much better
without you in it.

 

 

Repost: Thoughts on Tragedy from a D.C. Resident

Eek.  Yes, I haven’t written on here in a while and yes, this is another repost back to back.  Forgive me?  I promise to get my act together because – you know – that time of year is coming up again. :)  In the meantime, in honor of 9/11 tomorrow, I feel like it is only appropriate to repost this article from a few years ago.  My emotions on the subject haven’t changed since then.

**

“Thoughts on Tragedy from a D.C. Resident” Originally posted September 16, 2013

On a Tuesday in the 10th grade, I sat twiddling my pencil in home room.  I had Mr. H., the geology teacher, who was notoriously known for taking roll call for the first two minutes and then leaving us to our own devices.  Twiddling a pencil seemed appropriate for an early September day.

“Do you think _____ will ask me to homecoming?” the chatty blond-haired girl, with the large chest, asked her friend at the table in front of me.

“If he’s smart,”  her twig-bodied friend blurted out in between cracks of “illegal” bubble gum pops.

I eavesdropped and flipped through the pages of my trigonometry book with my left hand as I glanced over my schedule for the semester.  I made a mental note to check in with the guidance counselor later that afternoon; AP European History needed to be nixed.

I let out a big sigh of relief, as the bell finally rang, and I exited out into the hallway.  I found my ‘boyfriend’ standing at the intersection of the two halls.  That’s weird, I thought; he isn’t usually on the same floor at this time.  T. sauntered over, in my direction, and whispered in my ear, “something’s happened.”

“What do you mean something’s happened?” I quickly responded.

“Mrs. L. told us in home room.  Something’s happened in NY.  She turned the TV on.  Didn’t you see it?” he asked.

“No; I didn’t see it!  Mr H. never turns the TV on!” my sentence trailed off as I peered back towards Mr. H’s closed classroom door.  The windows on either side allowed me to see him move from setting the phone down to reaching for the remote control.  An image of smoke billowing from the twin towers flickered on the screen.

flag2

**

Experiencing 9/11 in Ohio was different from larger metropolitan areas.  I remember sitting on the tennis court during practice later that day, and listening to the eerie silence of a plane-less sky.  I remember eating dinner with my family in front of the TV and knowing that this was a moment in history, but not truly understanding what that meant.  I remember watching news coverage alone in my room later that evening; tears streaming down my face as I watched the firefighters clear the wreckage of Ground Zero.

I remember feeling so sad and united to other Americans in the days following those acts of terrorism, but also feeling so removed.  It was later reported that Flight 93 briefly flew over Cleveland before crashing down in Pennsylvania.  This was the closest my home city came to experiencing real fear in the wake of 9/11.  In a matter of weeks, things were back to almost normal.

eiffel

**

It wasn’t until I moved to the nation’s capital several years later that I truly understood what it was like to live with a constant fear of terrorism.  I feel it as I walk among my fellow D.C.-ers.  I know it when I hold my breath a little longer as the metro train stops at the Pentagon station.  I hear it when people speak of never flying on September 11th.

On 9/11, in the district, we sip our coffees a little longer in the morning.  We hug our loved ones a little tighter before we leave the house.  We do these things because the fear here is real.

In lieu of what happened in this city, less than 24 hours ago, I can’t help but think how this adds another fear to our list; the simple act of going to work.  I am deeply pained for the families of the victims, of course. There are not enough words or emotions to explain how saddened I am for their loss and what they must be going through now.  But, I’m also upset for their coworkers, the people working near-by, those of us who panicked as we scrolled through our mental log of friends who work for the Navy.  Were they at the Navy Yard location?  And then, that looming thought of it being the Navy today, but tomorrow – is it the Pentagon, the Senate, my office building in Tyson’s Corner, VA?

When I was younger, I learned that America is the land of the free and home of the brave.  I learned that people died fighting so that our country’s patrons can experience life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  But, as I say my prayers before work in the morning, as I anticipate feelings of visiting the Navy Yard metro stop in the future, as I squeeze my loved ones a little tighter tonight…

I wonder when the freedom from fear will become real.