Author Archives: savannah says

The cursor flashes

I’m not sure which way my words will go

will they flow out of me and spring to life the root of my pain

or will they cause me sorrow as they reflect back more of the same?

Will my words rescue me from the abyss of sky

white grey and strong

a million miles long

empty tall ghostly trees sway back and forth

winter’s barren song

I’m at a crossroads of a million paths

the dimensions of life, like layers in a room full of mirrors

splintered, which image to trust?

illusions multiply as far as my eye can see

My hands are wrinkled, an aging shell of me

I want to run

break through the horizon

to a time long ago

is it possible though?

If I could go back to anytime in my life, where would I go?

the echo in the mirrored room is playing my show

I would go back to the dinner table on Siesta Key

and try to save my parent’s marriage.

Palm fronds sway in the sticky Siesta night,

the jasmine is fragrant along the silent street.

Crickets chirp, alive with humid sounds,

Memories are here to keep me safe and sound.

“I only want the morning light,”

she thinks, groggily, in transitional slumber

she slowly creaks down the hard-wood stairs, the handrail cold and smooth to her touch

“I only want the morning light”

she repeats,

the world, from her living room window, a covered blanket of grey

This morning, no tropical birds fly through emerald green rainforests

no turquoise waters splash off Caribbean pink boats

there are no clamoring brass bands, bustling cafés, screeching factory lines

to be heard of

no metro buses clanking, no engine sounds roaring through single pane windows

only grey, silent sheets of ice

The birds are still sleeping

the air hangs full

cold air seeps in slowly under the side door

sitting down in her worn plaid chair, she pulls a soft wool blanket up over her lap

hugging a steaming mug of tea to her chest

“I can’t do bright light,”

she says, sober and alone, mind her brown calico cat, perched on the olive loveseat by the window

a black crow faintly caws in the distance,

the sky, a lighter shade of grey

she turns on her living room light, and quickly turns away

Time has rolled by this summer

like a dull, loud, clunking train

slow on the fat tracks, burdened by its carry

My body has suffered because of my emotions

I’ve stuffed them down like a heavy chain cascading down from its crane

landing ungracefully with a clamorous boom

twisting in a punishing snake of iron on the wet concrete port floor

I have resisted my release, resisted my health

(resistance, my only rebellion)

I’m staring at a blank off-white canvas

the bleakness yearning to be painted

begging for shadow and light

but how do I paint a landscape with your absence?

its all cold; the paint comes out in greys and blues

my brush is pointing down, paint is dripping down my leg

I don’t stop it

I loved him

The idea of him

The way he moved through space, his mind

How he considered things

Deliberately, kindly, with reason and distance and perspective

I saw him for his sweet soul

His kind, warm, cavernous eyes

They pulled me in while I tried to look away

I saw them glancing at me, I felt them stare

I guess I was wrong

Behind a computer screen is a song

A heart sad and alone

Wondering why I can’t have this beauty

Why he is in another woman’s arms

I loved how he made me feel

The compassion and calmness he showed

The quiet and subtle humor

His worldly perspective

His class and upstanding integrity

He is like a giraffe among moles

I loved how he inspired me

To be my better self

To make better choices (as much as I could)

To do hard things

To feel sexy and strong and vibrant

Alive

I have to let him go

Goodbye, mon ami,

(It’s not á bientôt, mon cheri)

Nor au revoir

It’s Adieu, in this life (and probably the next)

It’s Adieu, eternally

Adieu

Adieu

Adieu…

it’s never

enough

I eat into a hole of ever-elusive comfort

fullness that makes me sick

shame and guilt and weakening of spirit

compound on top of the ice cream sundae

chips and dip

subs and pasta and fast food crap

my face puffs and minerals drain

I wonder why I self sabotage

this draws me rightfully to further inspection

I need to nip this and heal this and open this wound

love myself more and not be confused

about my place and who I am and why the sky falls

about my heart and how it was wounded

my mother wound and father too

divorce and moving and being a parent to my mom

when life got too much for her

I shouldn’t’ve had to be the support

for her wounds of childhood, myself a child

I was too strong, too kind, too spiritual, too grounded

for my age; god wanted me to play

I carry this pack with me today

still following me around, often heavy and draining

I am filling up with over-everything

over-travel/over-trying/over-proving/over-competing

over-fantasizing

OVER

Let me draw a line in the sand, for myself

Let me heal myself as no one else will for me

I don’t have to prove myself to anyone (and even when I try, I often fail regardless)

I don’t have to carry your load, I can set down your pack

and continue on my way on my own

the ridge is calling me home.

I brought

40 dresses and no socks

to impress you

Jumbled and swollen

out of place and wilted

Trying to renew, trying to impress you

Birds sing out my hotel window

This spring day has brought fog and traffic sounds as well

Life is never linear

Nor love, I am told

The bus rattles outside

One sneaker is on, one dirty sock

Lost a bit without you

Over/under/blue

I’m in love with you

as bombs drop

children explode

oligarchs laugh

My heart beats strongly for you

as mothers cradle newborns

in underground concrete bunkers

I think about you, you haunt my dreams

as young men bravely battle against tanks and terror

I want you in the morning

in the evening

at night, by my side

I know its futile

this feeling inside.

I haven’t much time

I’ve got hills to climb

ways to prove I’m worthy of you

I’ve got hair to cut, highlight/lowlight and style

teeth to straighten and whiten

nails to do

hooded eyelids to make new

frown lines to erase

pounds to shave

years to reverse

satisfaction to find

a life desirable enough for you to want to drop your own

and come running

ah!

the heart is a victim, it’s dumb, it’s a curse

(off to the salon I go)

In search of a connection I’ll never know