The Orange Reminder

12/25/09

The orange ring lays against fragile skin.
A constant reminder of the pain and sorrow...also a memory of endurance and gain.
30 beads each with different meaning..circles the wrist while never ending.
The hurt and denial expressed with each glance, anxiety and guilt overwhelm when its gone.
without those orange beads meaning is lost, and emptiness fills.

Comments

A Place that Doesn't Exist

i'm yearning to fall into a space. a space where the only things that make sense are the songs sung by birds, the noises strewn about from leaves. A place that isn't the roof I sleep under, or the desk I sit at. Sometimes it lies behind my eyelids. sometimes I find it sitting in my car with the tears falling. a place where the wind is playing with my hair, and my hand is being held. i'm pining for the pines. a hole that might swallow me up and spit me into that fresh spruce smell. The rain in the pines aroma. The crystal of snow on the tips of their cones. i feel wedged between seemingly polar opposite wants/worlds. Maybe it's a millennial thing, but is that bad? to yearn to fly... to cover the plains, forests, deserts of the world. the consistent restlessness sitting on your shoulders, your blades pushing them back, and towards the sky. but what about this "home" people talk about. The thing everyone goes back to, where it seems the hardest memories lie. The...

Prompt: The Dust of Old Bones

I am realizing that when given a prompt, I want to write anything and everything that comes to mind. I am beginning to explore prompts and this one is from a SLC Group called "Salty Scribblers" Deep in her closet a box lies, the dust has spread over the top and seeped to the sides. It has moved with her again and again, though only receives a hesitant glance now and then. But sometimes In her dreams she skips to it, excited to rummage through and release the treasures inside. As she peeks in, she sees distant memories, fervent feelings, and amusement of all kinds. A Pink and worn Teddy Bear with arms open and a rainbow kite, ripped and bright. A Snowman sits at the bottom, still frosty and needing a nose. The scraped knees and rain puddles remind her of play. Some nights she takes one or two out and lays them on her sleeping self, testing the fit. The beliefs are the hardest to fit. Her parents know all and her sister protects no matter her own monster wall...

Lilac Sidewalk

Same Sidewalk. As Yesterday. It catches you by surprise. But today. They are here. Either smell or sight and you are called out. Silky petals. Our female elders peeking out with their violet irises The smell, oh the smell. It swirls in your chest trying to coat your lungs, for just a little bit longer. Same Sidewalk. As Yesterday. You see the crispy. The sun held them just a little bit too long. Close enough, the smell sits still. But the drops have drifted. Toasted and broiled. It’s gone so fast. Sad and True. I mourn for those that missed it. For those that will forget. Same Sidewalk. As Yesterday. Their abode remains season to season. Empty and forgotten Their graceful presence is now a brief memory. Every now and again, I remember what was once. And what will be again.

Be Gentle With Yourself

Search This Blog