Monday, June 23, 2014

She stands there
silent and still
in the quiet
summer afternoon

Summer vacations
she would run wild
all over the neighborhood
playing all kinds of impossible
impossible for adults

she was a builder
of cardboard houses

the president of a clubhouse

the boss in the office of her bedroom

she was her royal excellency
Miss Pippi Longstocking

She stands there
outside the office
under the sun
smoking a cigarette
staring off into space

that she should just
get on her 1980's
pink Huffy bike

and ride
“ride, like the wind”


Friday, June 20, 2014

There has been the
the grooming
the trimming
the pruning

the forcing a shoot
the small pot for root

opening my blooms
by day
closing by night

a bag over my branches
to prevent frost bite

no more
no more I say

let me grow
and open my blooms
by night and by day

let me grow wild
in rocky soil

cut off the top
and start again

these buds are not mine
they are where you began

let my own buds grow
spread as far as I please

wild thorny shoots
wild spreading roots
growing so far
opening to heaven
under the stars

I am a wild thing
no more pruning
or grafting their
its mine
its mine

I am a wild
and natural


Tuesday, June 17, 2014

How It Feels To Have Chronic Fatigue

I open my eyes early
Monday thru Friday
to the classical music

Usually a cat is lying on the bed.
I try to muster my strength.
Everything hurts.
Old age? Or, Chronic Fatigue?
I feel like a failure.
I feel like an old lady at 39.

I shuffle in for coffee,
my boyfriend is one of those
morning people
I try to be nice,
but some mornings
even to speak,
is a challenge.

The very act of pushing
the air it requires out
of my body to make the sounds
to communicate
is in itself

So I have taken up whispering
some mornings,
or just waving an apologetic
hand while shaking my head no.

Then comes the inner debate,
when was the last time I called in
sick, last week? 2 weeks ago?
Is this serious today, will there
be a worse day ahead I will need it more?

I feel guilty that it hurts too bad
to stoop down to pet my cats
to say good morning. It breaks
my heart.

I gather myself for make-up
clothes, walking to my car
which is sometimes too far away
for hurting joints, or weak muscles.

I tell myself, I can pull this
out of my ass today.
I can create a fucking miracle
and pull this off just today.

I can crash when I get home.
So I get home, and there is
no time, no energy for anything
more other than dinner,
and the basics.  There is no time.
Because there is no energy.

I wonder if I will be able to do
anything on the weekend.
Or if I will feel like shit then too.

Now mind you, this is not
everyday, and perhaps not
even every week,
but when it hits, it hits.
And there is nothing I can do.
It robs my life. It robs the people
and things I love.