Something profound

Life is a constant searching for what will bring happiness to our life.  We toss and turn and flail about looking for 'the answer'.  We can't change the pattern and just float along accepting what the universe gifts us. Going with the flow is a daunting task. Humans seek and beg and even, sometimes, receive. Because that is the way we roll :)

over a year...

It is been over a year since our world fell apart during that humid and frightening summer. Many things have changed and we still struggle but let's just say it is better in many ways.  She does the things she has to but without the joy and happiness and peace I would wish for her.  I see her as always divided, pulled in many directions.  I don't think she can grow in that scenario.  And then there is me...always offering advice and counsel, wanted or not. Do I push too hard...out of fear?  The path she so tentatively travels on now seems fraught with danger and disaster.  But it is her path. And who am I to try and deter her from it.  But I have seen things ... that I feel I must save her from...

But most of all there is Tiny Owl...the wisest of us all...but still vulnerable despite her brave front. What does she need from me?  I know she needs her and to know she loves her more than any other but she doesn't feel that yet. How could she? And is she expected to pay for the sins of the past by enduring more pain?

So I have had severe flashbacks to the horrors of last summer, so has Tiny Owl. I guess it is inevitable as it has been a year and we inhabit the same spots we did before. Each one wrapped with a memory as painful as a knife slid into the heart.  I will always feel shame and regret for some of my reactions. I can only justify them by knowing I was clamoring to save her life...but does the end justify the means? Sometimes, I was gentle, understanding, accommodating while other times the emotions took over and I said and did things that I can't fix.

But there was a bittersweet memory that floated in one night  for which I am grateful.  It was just the two of us, not sure where Tiny Owl was that night. She wasn't like herself at all yet but had a sweetness that touched me deeply.  She was still rushing about trying to find refuge from the deluge inside her but her actions were different this night. We played silly board games and laughed together. She painted my nails. She stood outside the shower to make sure I wouldn't fall (Mom-om) and held me when I climbed on a stool to take a picture.  When I fell asleep she painted my toenails, paint everywhere but it didn't matter.  She was reaching out to me in the only way she could that night.  I grasp for the good as often as I can and can only hope for the future.  I search for balance in how to approach her with my fears...balance, something that doesn't come easy for me. But in my tilted, skewed way I will offer what I can...

Monsters and other gremlins

He stared out of the car window with empty black eyes.

He thumped a beat with ashen fingernails on the glass

Though his gaze was vacant, his mind was absorbed,

studying his subject, calculating his next move.

He wondered when she would stop driving

And running and scattering herself to the wind.

If his aim was true he would defeat her by morning.

And if not then she should know he was legion,

he was not alone and there were a multitude of others

to take his place at her side. 

 He wondered why she bothered

and when she would realize his efforts could not be squelched.

He had been alive for countless years and his victories

were myriad.  And yet she continued to run from him,

believing his horrific countenance made him a monster

of the worst kind. His pallid skin covered with odd

protuberances and inflamed boils frightened many away.  

Somehow he thought she would be different,

more understanding, more accepting but no…

She too ran away instead of embracing what

he had to offer her. As he contemplated her fate

and what must come next, she drove off the road

hurtling the car into a deep ravine.

 As he climbed out of the shattered car and stumbled

 through the broken glass and twisted metal he chuckled 

 in a deep raspy voice and watched the sun slide slowly

 behind the horizon.

The unknown

I must go in...the fog is rising. Emily Dickinson

holga, holga

“A man is but the product of his thoughts what he thinks, he becomes.”  Gandhi

Christmas in London

resting place

Tell me one more time

The story I should already know,

the tale of pain and woe that searches

for an ending, a place to stop and rest.

The bells chime, the funeral procession begins

We cling to what is gone and only know grief

The bird escapes his prison and there is a

Moment of bliss we choose to follow..

And it is enough...