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photo by Dot 6/2009
Mt Tabor Park side stairs
Mt Tabor Park side stairs
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Experimental works, prompts, mostly raw and new writing. A place to hang them while they dry.
The Writing Vein
Go to my main website The Writing Vein.
I have a submissions calendar page. These are culled from P&W, Duotrope, CRWOPPS, emails and friends. Feel free to add the Google calendar in its entirety to your calendar or add specific events.
I have a submissions calendar page. These are culled from P&W, Duotrope, CRWOPPS, emails and friends. Feel free to add the Google calendar in its entirety to your calendar or add specific events.
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2 comments:
Pass It On
by Dot
The moment he walked away she knew
Her world would never go back
To how it was before to how
She didn't know the taste of sage
Or the smell of hope or
The feel of dandelions pushing up through the sidewalk.
He presented himself as an entertainer
As a man with a dream and coins to spare
As a friend in need of a community
She took him in she fed and sheltered and
Didn't question
He cleaned he prayed he wrote her poems
He took her for walks he ran her errands
He listened when she was happy and cried with her
If she was sad
But mostly
He was
A friend
They went for long walks
With cameras in hand and notepads and pens in their pockets
With a couple bucks for coffee if they got thirsty
Or cold or hot or needed a dry place to sit
And shared a bottle of water
He showed her the hills near her home
He showed her how to walk up them and down them
She showed him how to draw
She showed him how to write a play
They showed each other how to open to kindness and say thank you
Then one day he announced his time was up
It was time to move on he said
She felt it was true
He said goodbye
Then walked down the stairs and out of sight
She blinked
Remembered
And set out in the other direction
In search of a new friend
To share the taste of sage
The smell of hope and
The feel of dandelions pushing up through the sidewalk.
sometimes like yesterday
and the day before
and how many years now
sometimes the pain wins
no matter how hard
i try and i do try
and when victory
claims me
my body lays itself down
my body weeps
no matter how hard i try
and i do try
i cannot stop my body's tears
and every move
and every step
(or no moves at all)
are laced with disbelief
and i am angry to know
that the violence sown
ancient years ago
has sprouted this
communication
breakdown
between brain and body
confused chemical
conversations
halt all possibility
of truce
and most days
now
i lose
the pleasure
of stairways and trails
rollerskate dates
bike riding
kite flying
yoga sitting
cartwheeling...
and it scares me that
i have begun to fear
fear falling down stairs
sometimes as i descend
pain shoots
a knee gives way
and i see myself tumble
down, and there
i will be
with no panic button
except the one in my
soul
when the pain wins
i know panic
sometimes
like today
sometimes the pain
wins
no matter how hard
i try
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