If i could

I would take my anxiety

I would take my sadness

Out to the back yard

Strangle them

Shoot them in the head

And dump them in the well

If i could

I would

You,

You are but a shadow

Against this present light

A black, featureless silhouette

Without form or threat

Like a ghost outside the house

With no hope of entry

Fading away

In tears

I stumbled across this quote and it has lived in my head since:

“What you are unwilling to sacrifice is what you value most.” – Anonymous

It is worth pondering… ruminating on. With the recent death of my youngest sister I have been thinking about what and who I value most.

It occurs to me that this quote tells me that the things I am unwilling to sacrifice, even for something I deeply desire, are the things and people I most love.

It seems like common sense but I still find it helpful and hopeful.

They wondered aloud

And also in private

If the second law

Of thermodynamics

Was the first law

Of relationships

But in the end

They lost their train of thought

And fell into that sleep

Quiet is the night

Everywhere

But within one’s head

And the endless storm

It rolls on and on

So that even the dark

Cannot take it away

Nor the bright white light

Of a dawning new day

We love our backyard tenant who has become used to us as we go to and fro.

have you ever felt
as if you are missing

s o m e t h i n g

as though some vital part
is no longer with you
a thing now gone
wandered away
like finding yourself as shadow
wondering where your body went

there is an unbearable lightness
(as it has been said)
a kind of dis-ease that has set in
and you ask yourself
when did i go to sleep
and awaken in the morning
to find my organs stolen
now left as a cadaver walking
at what point was i taken and carved
empty as pumpkin on Hallowe’en

your ghost was ripped away
and they stuck a key in your back
winding your gears up tight
and sending you on your way
with no agency of your own
just waiting to run down

who am i
to steal joy
from another?
it is not my role;
so why steal joy
from myself –
to what end?
toward what goal?

We are laying with the dead

She, and cat, and i

Is it laying or lying?

I don’t care.

We have walked among tombstones

They poke from the dry earth

Like jagged, irregular white teeth

Stained with the decades

Here is a girl just two months old

Asleep now for 141 years

Next to her father who joined her

Five years after at 34

We are laying with the dead

So quiet in the late summer morn

There is the sky above our heads

With curious clouds watching us

As we sit shaded beneath trees

Lost in personal reveries

She, and cat, and i

Remember

You Were a teenager

Walking in late fall

Up the hill from school

Toward grandma’s for lunch

And the snow was falling

Giant fascinating fantasy flakes

What beauty mixed with sadness

A moment to be lost in time

Over written by the more mundane

Now somehow never to be forgotten