Thursday, September 5, 2013

The Bunk House

Halfway through my life I came to stay a while on my parents ranch, in a small bunk house to sort some things out. I wrote a lot during that time.

April 16th, 2012
Monday In The Bunk House

this place is oddly
becoming more of
a home
the rooms
into one another
the staircase
begins to feel
like mine
like it belongs to me and
is becoming
part of me somehow
maybe this
is how it feels when your heart changes
you begin to navigate
the chambers
as you would rooms
and it becomes more
yours with each day.

I see now. I was living
in a dammed comfortable

and maybe through
the trees and animals
and wilderness
through the
and aloneness
I am becoming
like Walden
or Emerson
perhaps I was
born to be
a hermit.

April 17th
Tuesday In The Bunkhouse

Racing against daylight
to reach home
whatever home is
before the creatures
come out
blood pumping
through my veins
fear in my heart
"don't think,
just don't think
about how unreal
this feels right
now," I tell myself.

And there are braver
souls than I
out for an evening
With wives and
dogs and
even a child
in a wagon~
they have no fear
why do I
Maybe I am not
afraid of the
maybe I am
afraid of being
eaten alive
from something else
from the inside
by my own fear.

Things get hard, then things get easier.
I change my mind and try to change
my attitude a million times during the day.
Nights are at first about survival, from the noises
outside~ the sound of the beat of my own heart, the loneliness
and then I settle in with lights on, covers piled on bed
and book about a lonely girl running from something,
called Safe Haven. Very appropriate.
I am the Kerouac of the forest.
The Florence of Nightengale with my belly freshly full
of red velvet pancakes, thinking I will not eat tomorrow.
And I think that must be how the fictitious mountain lion
I am so afraid of feels after he eats.
And so doesn't want me~ doesn't want me at all.
April 19th
Thursday In The Bunk House

I will recall my spirit
here in the dark woods
it will come to full
to guide me home
with my little companion
who waits patiently
for me
I will brave the wild
a metaphor
for my soul
to find the treasure
uncover it
and spend it
out in the
my world
I have not done
I will buy love,
peace, serenity
good fortune
pays off
the hanged man
that everything
will be ok.

April 26th
Thursday In The Bunk House

There was a time
when I stopped
being afraid
even though the
lion would pass by
my house in the
He was simply
passing by
on his way
somewhere else
and was not coming
for me.
Just simply doing
what lions do in
the wild.

And maybe my aura
glows and says
not here
my friend
not this one
simply observe
and walk on.

~Jenny Miller

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

dear God,
Can I just rest here a while
do you want me here? I ask
Am I uncomfortable with making change
because it’s not time?
My life is peaceful
has a soft rhythm
a home filled with love
I still look at him after all this time
and wonder how
in the turmoil that was my life then
did I meet him
he is good to me.
My family surrounding
in familiarity
and comfort
staying up late to read oh so good books
night time showers
crawling into bed clean
waking to coffee and cats
work won with well deserved rest
rest won with work
today I have some semblance of peace
because that’s just what that is
it’s today, not yesterday, not tomorrow
today that I have all this
Can I just rest here for a while?
Would that be ok?