Friday, December 18, 2009

it seems the older i get

the less i understand why people end up dying so young.

you'd think it'd be the other way around, and it wouldn't affect me in such a way to trigger the "why" question.. but, no. every single time i learn that another person my age, a little bit younger, or a little bit older has ended this experience of life as we know it....

it just widens the gap of understanding and accepting it in my mind.

rip chris henry.

Wednesday, December 09, 2009

in the past twelve hours

i've gotten word of a celebrated birth,

and two tragic deaths.

the birth is a family member,

the death, family members of a grad school friend.

and so,

life, as tentative and unsettling as it is,


in one way, or another.

to the little one who just entered, ash

to the two recently departed, ash

Thursday, December 03, 2009

i was going to sleep, but then the words began to flow.

--for all the girls who won't demand he "put a ring on it", and for those who understand that the answer is not in the Steve Harvey book, but that it IS out there somewhere... AND for those, who are neither, but do relate.

here we are

thirty year old school girls

we’re girls, in love

chasing it like windmills or butterflies, with nets

waiting for it

from the boys we love

living in careers that we’d sacrifice

for husbands and children and a passionate companionship

that lasts forever

because we come home alone


here we are

thirty two, thirty five, thirty eight years old,

not feeling old, not BEING old,

but feeling and being old enough to build a life

with a person of significance.

independence is championed and self sufficiency esteemed,

but the truest, sometimes loudest, sometimes quietest desire

is to be dependent on that partner of life

we definitely do believe exists,

and why wouldn’t we?

here we are, forty four, fifty two years old

making decisions we don’t want to make

because of experiences we never thought we’d have

and why? because we didn’t want to settle for something

that didn’t reach the level we once had? or maybe never did?

or maybe did and didn’t work out, or died,

or was mishandled by all parties involved.

we never dreamed it’d be this way.

we never imagined we’d be so easy to sleep on,

so easy to discard, that we’d be the ones they decided

they could live without. that is not what we thought.

but often that is who we are, who we become.

here we are,

school girls longing for the boy who makes us swoon,

longing to mature from school girl to [cherished] wife,

to be the strong woman behind the that man;

the one who is honored to have what we’ve got.

we want the cliché, the fairytale, the dream,

the situational comedy of real love with minimal drama…

the imperfection of a life spent molded with his,

sharpened and fueled by one another,

the way we’ve always dreamt. even when

we see countless friends and loved ones

and folk we don’t know, and ourselves fall victim to

marriage and relationships that crumble

under the strain of weighted life… we are still waiting for our turn

to get it right.

and so we wait. we work. we date. we don’t. we leave the country. we find new cities. we change our jobs. we go to the gym, then to the club, then to church. and back to work. we have babies.

we get jaded. and entertain ourselves. we do the things we want to do, and go on trips together, cosigning on shared experiences that we wished weren’t so.

or we just live each day waiting to see how the dream unfolds. with hope. with expectation. waiting for the moment we can share with our world that we are finally a part of that –ultimate– “We.” and that it was worth the wait.

for some of us girls longing for love, we learn to enjoy the journey as it is, acknowledging and sometimes ignoring the lonesome and confusing moments, accepting allusions of love when they flutter by in the form of someone we could spend our lives with—if even for a short time, and when it dissipates we wonder when a more solid form will appear, and if it will show up for good. for others of us, the journey has even portion of bitter with the sweet, because the thought that something is missing is too overwhelming… while, still, we wait.

but we’re here.

we’re here.



for the record, i don't like this poem. i love it¸ but i wish i hadn't've written it. i'd like to believe that i am not a part of the "we" in this poem, but by all accounts, i'm sure I, THE PERSON, am represented somewhere in these words – especially since i wrote it. nevertheless, maybe now that it's out, i can go to sleep.

it may be time

for me to own The Notebook.
Because I believe in The Notebook kind of love.

what is it about my heart

that causes the palms of my hands to ache
when i'm sad?

i've never figured it out.

yet it has never failed.

when my heart is heavy,
faaar before or after any tears,
the palms of my hands throb.


you can't want

it for someone else. whatever "it" may be.

if they don't want it,
if they can't figure it out,
if they aren't sure why,
if it's not enough for them,

you do want it and
you have figured it out and
you are sure why and for
you it is enough,

whatever "it" is,

then "it" becomes canceled out,
now doesn't it.

does it?

regardless, you can't want it for anyone else.
they've got to want it for themselves.
or you've got to stop wanting it.

(there may be a third "or" involved, something less definitive, absolute, and more gray area than the two aforementioned black and white "or's." but that third "or" continues to make things complicated, involving keeping a burning vigil of hope that perhaps deep down there is gestating the realization of that distinct "want."

for most people, it's sound and most logical to ignore that particular "or".... and every now and again you have a strange bird who understands all three and chooses the third.)

what happens

when the love of your life decides he's going to leave, for his own benefit,
yet so much of the life you live hangs in the balance
of the time you cherish spending in that love?

a love on which you prefer to spend
all of your time currency?

does life just move on without it?
do you feel a phantom companionship once they've packed up and gone for good?
do you hope they'll return, even before they've left?

or do you accept that everything has a course to run,
and maybe this is finally nearing the finish line?
as you were supposed to have kept in mind all along?

or that maybe, just maybe, it'll be this good
with somebody else? (even. if. i don't want to
think about somebody else.)



(stabling sigh)

this present means so much to me. it's all we have.

it's all we have.
the present, and the gift of memories known as the past.

i have today, and i have a past.

i just don't know what to think about the future regarding this one.

Wednesday, December 02, 2009

What a Lovely Day! I (heart) Bill Withers!

So, I'm really excited because I saw a FABULOUS documentary last night on the life and times of one of the most prolific singer/songwriters of our time, Bill Withers. The film is called Still Bill
and was independently made by a couple of fimmakers, one of whom is a young black man that I know from where I attended grad school. Even though the film is not available to see in regular theaters, what's wonderful is that the filmmakers have made the opportunity available for the general viewing public to host screenings of the documentary. Since I've returned home from seeing it tonight, I've been kind of brainstorming in my mind how I can get a screening of the film jumping off in some of the various venues I'm affiliated because it's more than just a movie about a musician, but a piece on dignity, triumph, late blooming success, and how we can approach choices in our lives.

I can't wait to see where I can get a screening going!!!!

Still Bill Trailer from B-Side Entertainment!

Tuesday, December 01, 2009

Treinta y uno dias

until the new year....

i can dig it.