flicker

a flicker of hope.

dashed.

i will light it again.

graceful

as i tiptoe along

this tightrope

extends beyond the corner

and i cannot see

trip and ye shall be picked up

doubt and ye shall be comforted

fly and ye shall join the heavens

in praise of this graceful life.

topple off the space provided and find

the rest.

there.

you are free to trust and push

show them the cloth

you are

cut

from.

grace.

it is too much, always.

i never deserve it

i always belittle it

he brings it as he has never failed to do.

lead me blind, farther than i have been before

trip with me

we'll turn it into a skip

and jump into your arms

they follow me and are ahead of me

in the constant questioning.

this morning always starts with darkness of black city streets 

but the sun rises.

steady and faithful.

you rise.

through all the choices i make to contrary your grace.

when i shout out you shout back

and i love you for it.

please do not leave me, i am weak.

in your strength.

i need you god

i need your grace to walk.

turned around

socioeconomic wonder 

at this hate filled fear

for we have only been hurt

by love

in our fragile state.

we have been pierced by

grace

bled from

mercy

turned over in our graves from 

forgiveness.

we are alive in fear but

we are whole at least

kept to ourselves.

safe.

but we are dead to all

that is life.

love.

porthole

vision narrows

blinds on

if only i could see the one.

there is never one, always two that i long to see

nay

search for.

one remains fruitless

one a mystery, but there.

if i speak in riddles do you know

of what i say?

do you hear these words of eyes and see the thoughts i think?

if i never stop pestering

walking

and reaching

will you have more mercy?

there can never be more than you.

one is enough. 

always.

3rd update on my dad's rocks, er, stones

pled for continuity report on my dad's kidney stones.  p.s. my mom is really hilarious, i mean let's not leave her out of this story!  she sent me the most recent update on his condish and i must tell a little back story for it to make a bit more sense to you wonderful friends: my mom is really progressing in her internet savvyness and when i first started this blog up last year, i checked in with her, challenging and reminding her to check it (she is a big fan.  not just because she is my mother, she insists upon this detail.) and one such conversation went like this:

me: "so mom, have you checked my recent blog posts?"

mom: "uh no honey, i haven't logged on it for awhile."

me: *guffaws and gasps for air for more than a moment.  howls might be a more appropriate description of this noise*

mom: *silence.  small chuckle.*  "uh, melissa what is so funny?  what?  what are you laughing about?"

me: "mom *gasp* oh    my    goooosh !  that is soooo hilarious!  'logged on'?  ohh my gosh!  mom-"

mom: "melissa, well isn't that what it's called?  i mean, what else would you say?"

me: "*snort* uhhh, you don't have to log on to my site, mom, you just have to type the address in and it'll take you there.  anyone can read it."

mom: "well *huf* OK.  no, i haven't visited it recently.  i'll look at it this evening.  gracious!"

ok so that was lengthy, but most of the time my mom manages to totally crack me up for something i might deem hilarious and others would simply glide right on past.  i just can't resist it, she's too cute.  she writes me e-mails sometimes regarding the things i have written (which are letters i will always treasure.  she is a builder, my mom.) and following is just one such note:

"Thanks for mentioning your Father's kidney stone.  We were just commenting this am (over blueberry muffins and tea*) that it was 4 weeks ago today that we spent the night in the ER.  He has only taken 2 pain tablets in the whole month!  He continues to take the herbal product, drink lots of water, and hangs upside down.  Isn't he a riot?  We cancelled the lithotripsy appointment because he is doing OK for now and we need to give the herbs time to work.  Except for getting up three times in the night to go to the bathroom, he doesn't give it much thought.  Keep up the prayers!  We know they are helping!"

 

*= my mother loooooves tea and has tea time as often as she can reason.  my dad joins her now that all the girls are out of the house.  it makes me sad, imagining them sitting there at the kitchen table by themselves, lonely.  perhaps they actually love this time and the silence in between all the kids coming in and out for reading lessons, but i, being one of their daughters who wishes the distance were mere blocks instead of thousands of miles, feel sad that i am not there as well. 

sprung

naked neon against expansive naked neon

greens and blues and yellows and fuschia

splashing with abandon

up against my sunglasses

i am not prepared!

watch where you're going!

straight

into

spring beauty.

shocking and stunning

breathtaking

spring has

sprung.

hand written notes

are a dying breed.

the flow of the pen

actual INK on a paper

the care and time taken to pick out the card

from your stash at home.

the envelope arrives in the mail

oh!

what surprise!

it is not junk or a bill

a magazine you won't read or a flyer for pizza.

it it a note

hand written

for me.

nearly extinct but not quite

because thoughtfulness is not

dead yet.

i intend to write more notes.  always.

find me not

in this shroud

of emptiness and torn flesh

i have not come to leave you yet

i will for always be inside.

the sorrow seeps, the weeping moans

my bone chance to overextend

for life itself is none too soon

the cost i brought shan't order me.

cross and alone

at long last he

the willow the only one

his shadow keeps

fraught up in pain the wormwood seeks

to swallow the truth, but never he.

sit down my friend

the deed is done

your coin is paid the morning comes

but not for you, your work is done.

thin layer

of glass dividing me

from the silky pants and the flowing skirts.

high heels and cell phone breaks outside.

the sunshine glares, friendly albeit.

thin layer of work and no work.

complaints all around.

a coffee break later

we are glad we have a paycheck.

glass divides those of us, sliced down the middle.  caught in the cacophony in our brains

to slave 

or

starve.

we all wish there were more options.

adam, i blame you for this one.

eve, you too.

the sadness

there are no words.

when i read a story that seems too tragic to be true.

but it is no fable, this is real life kid and shit happens.

all.the.time.

the eternal whiz and whir of why is pointless.  not so much in that it discourages me from asking

but because it will not bring an answer valid enough to explain away the 

sadness.

there are no words.

then show me the way to be wordless in sadness with others.  to be silent in the silence of death.  the mourning of moments that do not fade, only appear less obvious.

this is not the time to be yelling, yet i want to.

along with anything else that might make this pain lessen.  that is a selfish wish for it is not even i that is in this fractured cave.  only to make my empathy shrink.  

ah, then i might welcome death as a friend for i cannot live in oblivion.  how to walk with the death in everyday, that is what i want.  it cannot be OK, for it is always rotten.

there are no words.

the itch

to run and hide

to speak real loud

throw caution to the wind and just

give in

follow whatever it is that i want to do

without thinking.

or sometimes, when the mood is right

to look left and back to see

that the itch is fine and good

and

GO!

this feeling of wildness comes over me, this abandon to all things polite and boring.

to run into the unknown and relish it, envelop the minutes without hesitation.

for tonight is the night i want to dance long and loud and crazy and well

without regret.

it is not bad or ugly or wrong.

it is of beauty and truth that the things we can take, the things we can touch are of no consequence in the end.

only that which comes from within.

moroni

only 8am and it's 27 C, which is close to 81F folks.  

moroni.

the word came to me on a bike ride and i couldn't get it out of my head.  i didn't even know what it was!  so i looked it up, and several spellings later i am ridding the poem about "...midnight air sinking into my lungs" and "floating under a treetop roof".  

silly.

moroni, the capital of grande comore off the coast of mozambique on the other hand, does not mess around.

um hm.

maybe i should write about things that matter, i tell myself.

some of the only information i could find about the island is here.  sounds captivating and gruff.  almost unfriendly in the most beautiful of ways.  i feel limited in my geographical knowledge, which limits my power.  because i do have power.  we all do.  but what am i doing with it?

this morning in moroni i can only imagine what the people there awoke to, a day full of hard work?  political strife?  heat, stress, exhaustion, fear and not enough food?  again?  beauty and pain as far as the eye can see?

morose

magnificent

misfortune

merry

muted 

moroni.

another place i do not know but want to try.