Category: Feelings

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Prose; Rear View Mirror


rear view mirror

I was looking straight ahead, as usual, driving my car.

I very rarely look at the car behind me in my rearview mirror.

For some reason, this time I did.

She was alone in her car with sunglasses on.  I tried not to stare because somehow, I could tell she was upset.

I must have had my empathic radar on again because she looked normal for ten seconds.

I kept glancing back though.

Ok, now she was crying very hard.

I could tell by the shape of her lips as she was trying to control herself and wiping under her eyes beneath the sunglasses.

So many questions and pictures went through my mind.

Did she just get a call from the hospital that her son had gotten into a car accident?

Did one of her parents just die?

Then she started hitting the passenger seat and crying while we sat at the red light.

Being the kind of person I am, I wished I could let her know I wanted to reach out to her somehow.

When she got angry and hit the seat, that caused me to think her husband either asked for a divorce, she caught him with another woman, or her boyfriend text broke up with her.

Then the light turned green.

I wondered all of that, seeing something I’ve never seen before all in a space of forty-five seconds.

I hope she’s ok but I’ll never know.

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Prose; Publishing Joy


I feel like my baby is about to go off to college.

I’m about to publish my first book and it’s almost time to let it go,

No longer able to control where it goes in the ethers,

Out into the world, warts and all,

Fresh, innocent, never having smelled a book store (yeah right)

Never having gone through the digital or paper mill…

Does that hurt?

My memories, feelings, occurrences, family secrets, pictures,

losses, dates, intimacies, grandparents, babies lost, tears cried,

Oh my god!!!!  Why did I write this memoir????

Stop the presses!  I can’t do this!!!!

I can’t put all of the truths of my life out into the public for perusal and criticism!

Not that anyone will care…but my life has been interesting hasn’t it?

I wrote it so it sounded interesting….yes I did.

Why did I listen to my FRIEND????  She said, “Lisa, write a memoir”

after hearing me tell stories.

Well, what if no one ELSE is the least bit interested?

This is nail-biting territory if anyone reads it.

I seriously do have many mind-bender stories.

What if people think I’m nuts?

There’s no such thing as bad press.

I’m just…a little nervous I guess.

impublishingmymemoir

 

 

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Prose; Shadow


 

beautiful tree

I obscure my darkness to walk through life content, shadow feelings under the bed.

Convoluted darkness just below my navel only, my prescient dreams adumbrate what my body holds in, refusing to release its undulating grasp like a cranky child crying, needing attention and touch.

Male progenitor, emotional vampire and…ironically, my ally as a bridge to freedom in the face of neglectful, unfeeling, autocratic child-bearer.

Tremulous adolescence, when the course succor so needed is vacuous at best,

Cynical vexation felt so keenly in their insensitivity to my easily affected, young, psychic heart. They didn’t even know what the fuck psychic was because it wasn’t in the bible.

What could I have been?

What happy life could I have had if their crispy, mucous eyes had been open a crack?

That shadow feeling could spiral me down so quickly if I focused on it, so I only do it here

for release…because it’s bullshit, and my life is not bullshit, so I’m not filling it with that.

What is more helical bullshit that parental ignorance with an innocent, lovely child born in light and returning to light?

How twisted and contorted can adults get following societies rules, books, beliefs, and materialistic hysteria when they have in front of them a free soul, their child, needing only love by degrees, free roam by yards, food by weight and expression without limit?

The shadow of light is a contrast as a lesson

I’m using it to soar to the heights,

To rip asunder familial right to the soul of a child.

No more,

Whether in love or delusion

each child belongs to themselves only.

Just as roots do not dictate how far, wide and what direction a tree will grow,

so too, shadow roots deep below the ground only hold it in place while the wind, sky, and sun call us ever higher to dance with all of life above ground, storm and calm, for as long as we wish to live.

I hail from you but I am not you.

Feb. 8, 2017, Yellow 13 Warrior