Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Soiled Soul

The dirt coats me

by now it is embedded into my pores

How long it’s been there

I know not

Days?

Perhaps years

Rivulets of a thousand heartbreaks

cut pathways through it

I journey miles

in search of a river or stream

to wash it away

But all I’m met with 

is a wasteland

littered with corpses

of those who were not strong enough

to travel my path

Autumn Equinox

cornstalks-and-crows-linda-storm

Photo Credit:  Linda Storm

 

 

The corn stalks have withered

and rustle in the wind

summoning the crows with their song

The buzzards circle overhead

sensing the death of my hope

Nothing kept them from their prey

until you stepped from the shadows

and scattered them

forbidding them to return

by lighting a lamp

in the window of my soul

 

 

 

Chest Compressions

I’ll drink through it

I think to myself

and when I’m drowning

in my pool of despair

and near death

I’ll beat on my chest

until I can start my heart again

until I can feel the pounding of it beneath my ribcage

and hear the whoosh of pumping blood in my ears

 

 

 

Petrichor

petrichor

 

 

Cool rain drenching hot asphalt

created dancing ribbons of steam

accentuated by my headlights

and for some reason you were there

a thought in my head

and the songs on the radio

took on a whole new meaning

 

Tear Stained Pillowcases

I dreamt of you last night

I knew it was you

even though you were thinner than you are now

You took me in your arms and held me tight

and the minute my head was upon your chest

I broke down sobbing

but you didn’t let go

you kept holding me

while the tears streamed down my face

and I gulped air to fuel the sobs that kept coming

I kept crying until I woke myself

wondering why you feel like my safe place

when you barely acknowledge my existence

The Deception of Dreams

The mind defies

and deceives

You come to me in my dreams

and you

you’re there too

and I don’t want to think about you

or you

I want to erase the memories

of all of you

the hurtful words

the fear

the black eye

But my mind won’t allow it

It pokes

it prods

it reminds

and recalls

I think of green pastures

with wildflowers dotting it

willing the beauty

to snuff out the pain you left

It doesn’t work

 

On Children

On Saturday my son flies back to Washington, where he has resided with his dad for the last 2 years, and I am already sad.

Even though it ripped my heart out to let him go live with his dad, it has turned out to be a very good thing.  He is maturing, and growing into the amazing young man I always knew he had the potential to be.  He just had to get past the anger.

Knowing he is where he needs to be doesn’t make it any easier to let him go, but letting our children go, is what we, as parents, all have to do at some point.

Years ago, before I had my son, I read Khalil Gabrin’s ‘The Prophet’ for the first time, and was impacted by the part ‘On Children’, and it continues to resonate with me.  My son will always be my son, but he is his own person, with his own thoughts and feelings, and his own life to live, and I will continue to remind myself of this as he boards that plane on Saturday.

On Children
 Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

 

The Agony of Defeat

my words fall on deaf ears

and you turn a blind eye toward them too

 

and even though I stick out like a sore thumb

I seem to blend in with the crowd

and no one notices me

 

in a world obsessed with perfection

I am no one’s ideal

and I am ugly to myself

 

Why must I allow outside sources to define me?

 

Big Changes Coming

I’m losing my job at the end of the year.  I have know it was coming, just wasn’t sure when, and now I know.

I desperately need a change and I am being forced to make one.

For months I have envisioned myself selling my house, buying an RV, and moving away from Kansas to work elsewhere, and be able to explore another part of the country.  However, I think that dream has had the brakes applied, as lot rent seems to be hella expensive, and I can’t afford an RV payment and over $1,000 a month in rent.

I have no idea where I’m going, or what I’m doing, and I’m stressed.  My life feels so out of control right now, wanting change but scared to make the change.

 

First Love

If there was a salve which could heal your heart

I would travel miles

and spend every last penny I had to buy it

but that particular elixir doesn’t exist

and those who tell you differently

are just snake oil hawkers

who lie

I am powerless to fix what ails you

as you have that condition of the human heart

called love

and it will wound you

numerous times throughout your life

But none so deeply

as when you become a parent

and are unable to mend your child’s broken heart

the first time he falls

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