Skies of glass
Of dewdrop stains
A satin sash and
Your ghost is hollow
It longs to haunt me
Make it last
Make it whisper
Call my name
The blessed saved
I revel there
I revel yonder
Written June 28, 2013
as I reached a crossroads in my life
It’s not really the end of the summer (thankfully!), but I’m sharing this poem because I wrote it around he the same time as the writerly musing I just posted on Monday.
I wrote these two pieces at the very end of a wonderful summer, as the days grew shorter and cool weather approached, but I’m posting them now (in the spring of 2020) because it seemed appropriate in light of the COVID pandemic.
Because all seasons, no matter how good or bad, do come to an end.
The sands of time
Hope is lost
Lost is found
The shaky ground
That come again
And summer ends
– written August 28, 2012 as the seasons of life (and of my life) began to shift
A flower blooms
To the moon
Like a bird
Who sings her song
For too long Too long for
She’s out of breath A kiss held on
‘Til her love’s spent She is me And me is I And my eye sees me
Left behind A heart not found
In fiction’s fact Encased in glass
-Written July 3, 2012
as my life began to transition
from one season to the next
Traveling at sunset
The sun must go down and the night prevail (for a time) before a new day dawns.
You know the feeling. Things have been going great (in your life, in a relationship, at work), but then something goes terribly wrong. A situation takes a turn for the worse. Things aren’t working out like they should. What once felt balanced and manageable, maybe even perfect, is suddenly out of control — out of your control.
That was how I felt when I wrote Reasons in 2012.
Acquiring knowledge or information can provide a sense of peace, either as a source of hope to cling to or perhaps as some form of reassurance. If we understand something, we can better deal with it, right?
But if we’re being honest, we might have to admit (at least some of the time) this is simply a way to assuage our desire for control.
Here’s the truth: we have far less control than we’d like to think. Crises are good for revealing this — because not only does pressure unmask the illusion of control (oftentimes, that’s all control is: an illusion), it also unveils our insatiable desire for control (to be in control, or at least to feel like we’re in control).
In light of the COVID-19 crisis, I thought I would share how this brokenness manifested in me as I teetered on the cusp of a heart-shredding, life-changing breakup. I was grasping for answers, desperately trying to figure out where things went wrong.
If I can understand, I can fix it.
If I can understand, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.
That’s what I told myself. In reality, I was trying to control the outcome of my current situation (and all future situations if possible). That way, I wouldn’t have to go through this again. I wouldn’t have to experience more heartache.
Control is a way for people to avoid the most excruciating pain known to mankind…emotional pain. But control really is, at best, just an illusion. At worst, it might even be manipulation.
Can I get a reason?
I need one, I want one
I’ve got to have one For this, for that It’s something It’s someone It’s more than a “want” I need to find one Oh, if I could I’d surely Buy one
It’s driving me crazy And making me woesome
It’s making me anxious
Lend one? Can’t somebody see
I’ve got to have one?
Must I beg or borrow
Or steal one?