Entangled by words

by Actions that speak in

LOUD and vaguely annoying tones that

fall into my psyche-

You see my smile

BUT- be wary-

for if it reaches not my eyes then yours may be plucked

in astonsihment.

I hold it all, close within my burning breast - the vile,

vinegar of sauciness and salaciousness rising with bitter brew...

And then you speak -

And I spew ...

Volcanic molten magma not fit for little pitchers - defending my own ideal

And if you are wrong, and I wrong me- I hold that too.

Bearing grudge and careful witness to your crimes.

I shall retaliate - in time. You have placed the poison well and I am made to spread it's vitriole and harsh effects well.

Do not cross the line that feeds my demon soul - black of heart and rich in reimbursement

of your unkind deeds and words.

The furious fire held deep within shall erupt, burning, seeping carnage to all you have built, perhaps my fortresses as well. But fair is fair.

Know that I see well into your deepest disposition, and I am a watcher. My pain will linger, singeing my soiled soul until I must dole it out generously to you - with words spoken in whispers and angelic actions that belie your true intentions and bare them naked to the world.

I defend what is mine- honour, beloved, intention and position. Lie not about me, or lieth in your insidious froth as I take from you your glory.

No matter where I am the scent of love engulfs me when I think of you. Each heroic moment that you taught me to pick myself up, dust off the debris of the damned and stand tall to face and lead my demons to battle. You left an jagged scar across my heart when you left me, my demons cringing as you rise on sweetly scented spirals of cocoa to the heavens. No more can I taste thawed terror, smug satisfaction and daring deeds. Rolling out the dough of life's story; victories, losses and moments requiring fortification. I miss you.

We all have a story, and mine begins quite the same as yours. A mother, a father, a lot of love and giggles and that weird triangular solidarity of familiarity. And then, my plot dips. The white devils overtook the red knights, and my father succumbed all to soon to that unearthly dimension of heaven. And now we were two. Too young to grasp my status as outsider, different or otherwise, I lived happily in my loving bubble of family. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins and a myriad of little pets filled my young, unburdened life. And then, I started school.

At six years old, children have no filters. Sometimes, we learn the hard way to keep it all in - shoving down the darkness that threatens when overtaken by shame, fear and other all important emotions. The questions inane and insane to my now adult ears, were knives separating me from the playground posse, stranding me on the sidelines at recess. "Why did your mommy kill your daddy?" or "My mommy said you can't have only a mommy." or "Your daddy didn't die, he left because he couldn't stand you." And worse. I think the roughest one was inflicted by a third grade teacher,  uncompassionate and cold, she stood me before my new classmates and announced that the new girl only had a mother. With questions on the faces of those I thought I might call friends, she orated a tale that my father and mother were divorced, and once I acknowledged it, I would be free from my own prison. I cried that day. On the rooftop playground, in the far corner behind the handball wall. And then I got angry.

I found my solace in books. Friends were penned with compassion and sincerity, with secrets and acceptance. Honestly, I spent most of my life in the library, clamoring for anything to devour. As a consequence, I distanced myself even more, by reading 4 levels ahead of my grade when I was only in the 4th year of school. I don't remember many of the basic lessons, except for the writing. I was encouraged by one very special teacher to write, free writing in a journal became an antidote to loneliness, and my essays excelled all others. I continued writing and reading until - well, I haven't stopped.

So what did I learn in school that most of you did not? I learned so very early on that people are not to be trusted. The favor of a shy smile will award you sneers, pushes and lies. People are inherently selfish and cruel, and unless one chooses conformity, well, you remain alone, an outsider. And I am. Now, I wrap myself in the comfort of my friends- those beloved favorites from my well thumbed, dog eared books, and sometimes, with the few who see my heart.

My mistake has always been loyalty and naiveté. I always assume the best, even of employers, and neighbors. But I have been burned. Singed all the way to my now dark soul that refuses any more false friends. It's still so hard to smile and mingle with the plastic people of my city. A city born of rats - equally fitting to the community and people that dwell here.

I should perhaps mention that I no longer mind the solitude, that a coffee and a book or journal with my favorite purple pen are soothing companions. As are the birds and occasional offspring at my side. But that too is limiting. As my babies suffered the fate of the friendless, I watched their innocence die. They are scarred humans with little emotion befitting one who must function in the world. And to those parents who allowed and encouraged the taunts and jeers at my brilliant one, it is your ignorance and shallow matrix that will be your downfall. Now grown they will rise like the phoenix and surpass all your wormy expectations. Just as I will. My middle one - so complacent, empathetic, and well-loved, sees through the thin veneer of false-fronted friends. He knows where his loyalties lie, and is true blue to those who are steadfast. Well-liked not only by classmates and students in all grades, but he is also the epitome of what we all should be. As for my baby - hurt again and again by backstabbing peers had opened her eyes, like mine to the darker side of humanity. She knows who her few friends are, but holds much close to her stitched-together heart. Enough about the plastics, back to my story. Alone, I knew that I loved animals, books, and my bicycle. I would ride the tree-lined pathways of my neighborhood to the furthest park, a book and a snack in the basket, and spend leisurely hours visiting faraway places. I think that's why I love to travel now. And the people I meet in my travels often remain friends- true friends for life. I think I live in the wrong place.

Threadbare and worn

from excessive use, it covers me

keeping me safe and aware when I must be silent.

It holds dreams and more, as I furiously knot, adding patterns and

lilts to it's basic shape, ruffling the edges as

more color seeps into the unending flow of silken sounds...

Breathless, I stitch and loop, twisting threads around my nimble tongue,

tha same that would slice as wuickly, with a witty jab of juxtaposition

or a simple, yearning monologue. Truth is in the threads of this living cover that

swallows us up, and extends it's ever growing patterns into undulating waves

that speak volumes, while saying nothing at all.

It sits, heavy as a cloud,

lightness without being loud

sheltering me from the gusty winds

Of words.....hot, breathy, unwanted

if I sit, ever so still....I can see it

permeating the air like a sheer veil...

covering the Hum and drum of the day

if I inhale I can taste it, sweet like summer rain

it washes out the droning

it wraps me in its tender embrace,

soothing

healing

letting me be

Sometimes, it runs at me, faster than lightning

Jolting me out of my comfortable existence

it teases from me the wordless doubts and grief

it shames me into the corner

Hides me under the covers

pushes me to the brink of delirium and then

holds me, shaking, rocking, tender....

and Yet again, it mocks me

locks me up and throws me to the lions waiting,

eager to feast on my silent slivered soul

it sheds light in the day and heralds

all darkness at night....demons slink soulless and

Soundless.....

it sits, heavy as a cloud, an elephant in the room, weight pressed

upon my chest

it flits about, light as a feather, peaceful and clear

lifting my heart while holding my secrets

silence......

listen....can you hear it?

#challenge

In the darkness

alone

I hear it ....a constant

Buzzing, quiet ringing

LOUD Silence.

it deafens me as I reach through

Salty curtains that veil the

TRUTH and try to see, feel and understand

but I’m not there yet.

I see YOU, once my rock and safe

Haven

space to vent and seek comfort

shattered by your deception

Angry that you cannot

see

break your cycle of

control

manipulation

Twisting the situation to reflect your

PAIN

experiences, feelings and memories

IT IS NOT ABOUT YOU

STOP trying to console with false understanding

lit is our story

my story

my pain

their anguish. Your devotion mocks our attempts at moving on

your need to know it all

to control it all.....

it needs to stop.

listen and HEAR our cries

The feeling of inadequacy

of emotinal emptiness and self critical perfection

We impose upon our scarred and broken relationships

help us move ahead....

what we are saying

With our words

With our actions

With heart .please.

This isn’t about you, but it is.

It’s about you having to relinquish control and your need to always know everything. It’s about how far you are willing to go and what will you risk. Who will you risk? Is it age, angst, anger, or being around someone so resentful that you picked up their negative vibe and unconsciously made their beliefs yours, or maybe just questioned your own beliefs?

We are all in the midst of the toughest journey will have ever known, and it is not to belittle anything that happened in your life. You can be sorry about the situation but do not be sorry. You had no hand in this part, but the long-term effects will be on you.

You cannot fathom the depths of the damage each of us has suffered. The torment within our hearts and minds as we struggle daily just to function. We are angry, depressed, anxious and scared. For ourselves and for each other. We all show it, or not, in different ways. This is not to say you never felt sadness or fear or anger, but in this journey, you are the support, not the victim. You must learn to not only listen but to HEAR. You must understand that we are all in tremendous pain, and inside our heads is a terrible place to be.

You manifest the feelings we have or display, make the, your own and without realizing it, you are alienating your blood. Your family is hurting, and I trauma, and making demands and forcing control when you are not fully aware is a dangerous game. Again, what are you willing to risk for your words, actions and beliefs. Are they your own or self-imposed to fit in? Be brutally honest with yourself because the right answer may be the wrong answer. Think, I beg of you, think on the words you say and the time you use to say them. None of us is perfect, and we are all broken. You will be hurt, angry, and sad. You may not like hearing what we say, but you need to hear it, listen, internalize and act accordingly. Apologies will need to be made if you want to work on repairing what is now a painfully taut balance. If you stumble the wrong way, you will find yourself pushed out, bereft and devoid of one you love the most.

Love is accepting the imperfection and independence of those people whom you call family. It is being nonjudgmental and careful since times have changed, and as humans, evolution is hard. Personality shaped by our environment is not doomed to exist forever, it can be manipulated to a greater understanding of the dynamics of love and acceptance with no strings, no pained words and strained relationships.

This will be the hardest truth you will ever need to face. You must step away from yourself, your past, and your history and try to understand today's situation. The moment to moment existence we are each coping with every day. We are at the bottom of the mountain as must face the perils of the uphill, twisted climb to reach our peace, our salvation and understanding. Give us that. Join us on the journey. But please, step back and try to temper your words, your tone and thoughts. Do not take mine, even if I am venting, and make them your own, in anger and moments when we feel hurt, we do and say things that are not necessarily what we mean with our hearts, and these are the dangerous words and times. We are always growing, and it is not about you. Nobody questioned your giving nature, but are you doing it for the right reasons? Think hard and dissect your answers and thoughts cautiously. Be prepared to cry, to offer apologies and to hurt, as we are all not who we seem to be.

You are amazing.

When I count your tiny toes

And kiss your button nose

I am saying I love you.

My hearts, my life, my soul-

You take my breath away.

Too quickly, you are running,

"Look here, see what I found, look what I can do!"

And I do. With a warmth in my core and joy in my eyes,

because I love you.

Too soon you’re gone, I blinked.

On your own and I am alone.

You don’t need me to balance your shaky steps,

Or to hold your hand for courage.

But I need you.

You struggle to break free,

But you have always been free,

I merely guided you to keep you safe,

To illuminate your path..

You have always been so strong,

Self evident in your actions, and

I am so proud of you

Every moment for all time.

Each of you are pieces of the puzzle,

ragged on the smooth cut edgea,

yet seamlesss when together.

You are the answers,

the trifecta that beats a steady rhythm

beneath my bones. You three complete me.

You are my shining stars.

You are my purpose.

You are my heart

I love you.

I have always loved you.

I have always needed you.

Before you were a glimmer, I needed you.

I will always need you.

You are every breath I took before

And in every smile and memory.

I knew you before I met you,

Beautiful light of my soul.

You are my reason,

my all of the reasons,

And you make my journey worth it.

And I will be here when you need me.

Always, because I love you.

#motherslove

There is no such thing as honest, but all duplicitous lies.

Helpers, lovers, friends and the like - they are always on the side.

When you wear your heart on your sleeve, best beware...

People will take everything you've got stripping your soul bare.

Honesty is a rare commodity, and I fear it will be my end,

As the world keeps spinning while I am driven to brink of despair.

Honest gets you nowhere, but secrets, schemes and lies...

Better served as resources to keep the workers alive.

#challenge

I lie here in the thick, black night. The sheets skritch as I shift my legs, seeking respite and repose. I hear each sound clearer than ever. The steady iron drip of water from the tap; the rustling of blankets as my toes stretch towards some unseen element; the smacking sound of the dog as she licks her lips in her sleep - sleep will not come tonight.

I see the vague shapes of monsters, threatening as they hover, waiting for me to fall. They wait, hoping I will uncover even a digit, giving them cause to move more swiftly towards my demise.

All I ever was and will be is a lie. A dream that I sustained, which gave me solidity and validity and made me real. But alas, I am made of the nothingness that comes from the earth's bowels. The monsters are waiting, and soon I will let them feed.

I was told life has pathways and we choose our destiny. Lie. I was promised security and safety. Another lie. I was led to believe that people are just, fair, and good. The biggest lie. Nobody cares that I weep while I sleep, suffer silently in loneliness and fear, or that my world is crashing to an untimely death.

The night is comforting. The deep grey shadows hide not only the beasts but my fears, sins, and future. How is it a sin to want a better life, or any life for that matter, where one is free from abuse? Taunts, jeers, teasing - the harrowing task of pulling myself from the tangled sheets to face my adversaries daily. It's almost too much.

Tonight, I lie awake, knowing that pieces of my life are being stripped from me, just as one might peel an unsightly vegetable. A good analogy, since I am frozen with fear, anxiety, and the knowledge of all that is lost. I shed my tarnished skin to allow the monsters to feed. They may as well since my cause seems hopeless. Dire straits leave one very few options. And being immobilized is worse than death.

And so I lie here, seeking solace from the shadows. Dreading the daylight and the endless letters of rejection in my inbox. How can I not be qualified to even answer a phone? I wonder how I managed an advanced degree and what purpose it served since, with it, I am useless and obsolete. I call those monsters now to feed upon what is left of my heart, of my soul. I have sinned somewhere and must be punished. I suppose poverty and unhappiness will suit as well as any other attire. But what to tell my offspring? I only hope they make better choices, for I have failed. I am a failure and the monsters can have my soul.

I have descended to the darkest place, and returning seems futile. How much more can I lie to myself to present a positive face to the world when my own world has fallen to bits?

Sleep is no longer salvation but a punishment if it ever comes. How long can one survive without sleep? The dark will rise and take me soon. And I am just another fatality with no legacy.