view

Set the cotton candy mounds ablaze;

transformed their blue haze

to grey.

Tried not to look back at the bridge that

called so boldly out

to me.

Imagined me atop its railing;

set to spring forth up

to them.

Mind wandered to that dying bunny

in the yard we found

last night.

Heart sunk and wished I’d held it so it

wouldn’t be afraid

to die.

Today you checked on it. Still breathing;

its glassed eyes on the

blue sky.

Put it in a bag; tied it tight.  To

end its misery;

its fight.

Peeked on it later; its shut eyes now

at peace.  Walked away

to cry.

la manie

it’s nothing, it’s everything

it’s the stuff fraying at the edges

it’s the goo left in-between

 

try to outwit it, run and escape it

but it’s clever, it’s faster

go blind when that mania warps shit

 

it’s nothing, it’s everything

the ailment that’s in your brain

leaving us stuck in-between

hush-hush

Have you grown weary of our clandestine

meetings?  You seem impatient with all my

weeping.  My tears getting mingled with my

drinking.  Drops of salt make it taste better

anyway.  The grief tastes sweet, begging to stay.

 

How long will it be?  How long will this grief

remain?  Tired of waking up sad mourning

in the morning.  Would rather smile back at

you, something I’ve forgotten how to do.

Could we forgive us?  Could we even try?

 

With hushed words in secret places in the

dark holes of our home, he waits and spies on

us.  We stop our chatter and vow to try

tomorrow.  Let our clandestine meetings

last.  Let’s be strong.  Let’s ruin this sorrow.

elude

I want to build a house by the coal sea.

You say Mr. Take Awayer won’t find us

there by the dark sea that rocks us to sleep.

Mr. Take Awayer will wear a shabby

garb of white.  You tell me he floats sideways

in the contrast of night.  Always at night.

By the vast sea I pray his calls are drowned

out by the violent waves and rocky shore.

He beckons to deceive you far from me.

But you won’t hear him I promise.  I swear.

I hope you’ll be happy, hope we are too.

When I build a house by the jet black sea

and every night have its torment sway us

to dreamland.  Find comfort knowing it could

swallow us.  Forgetting this pain on earth.

Hidden afar from Mr. Take Awayer.

 

 

tears

kneeling, praying

think it’s raining

but

it’s only my tears

hitting the hardwood

falling heavier than

I thought they could

 

they’ve taken on a

life of their own

my tear drops crying back to me

wanting to bring me home

 

my tear drops know that

I can’t even speak

can’t even pray

but they know

He knows my thoughts

I don’t have anything

new to say

 

kneeling, praying

and

all the while

thinking it’s raining

 

 

this too

this too shall pass

I need you to think 

as you look past that jagged piece of glass

sitting on your counter reminding you

of that blood tainted dream 

you dreamt last night 

remember the dread and then relief

hang on to that fleeting feeling of fright 

 

this too shall pass

I need you to think

as you look into

that pool of blue sinking 

stupid girl

I know what you’re thinking 

but turn away

don’t let that horrid image stay 

 

this too shall pass

I need you to think 

when he warps and wraps

his sickness into your brain

makes you turn into ice

when his vapor speaks

breaks you into a thousand pieces

that slide about his pacing feet

 

this too shall pass

I need you to think 

of how much more you’ll take

how much more will you take?

wait till he turns his back 

then scramble your way out 

forget your shoes and move 

don’t look over your shoulder

 

just run, fly

much like that flock of massive crows

with their black and blue feathers

that match your arms

match your soul

depart, feel no pain

as the spiny palms try

to stop you in vain

 

this too shall pass

I need you to think

as you look past your life gone mad

hold back your blinding tears

let the ghostly syllables

play about in your ears

I need you to hear

this too shall pass

gone and back again

moss tangled, lingering down their branches

beautiful, flowing ribbons of brown

rows and rows and rows of them

massive nest of that moss

ushered us out of the state

while the giant water storm

she spins and waits

 

coming back those tangled masses of feathery moss

looked more like decapitated heads

with their dried blood

and muddy footprints all around

the wind beaten ground

evidence that they fought

proof that they tried to run

a far cry from the trees we left behind

the ones with the beautiful crowns

standing tall, waiting for the change

caused a flood of memories to rush back to me

overwhelm me

made me not want to return to my sunshine state

but

we did and here we are

44 hours we spent in that car

back to this

back to the same

break due to Irma

 

Sorry for my absence.  We ended up having to evacuate our home in South Florida due to   Hurricane Irma.  The first day we drove to Valdosta, Georgia.  What should have been a 5.5-hour journey turned into a 12-hour drive fest on back roads to avoid the “real” jams on the Turnpike or 95.  From there the plan was to go to Birmingham, Alabama but Irma changed her course and wanted to follow us.  So, last-minute we decided to trek to Richmond, Virginia to visit family.  We spent another day in the car – this time 15 hours.  In the wee hours of the morning, we would see cars piled into rest areas – I assumed the occupants were sleeping.  We continued past and didn’t arrive at our destination in Virginia until 3 am.

My beautiful autistic son with Type 1 diabetes, epilepsy, and mental health diagnoses was given an emergency prescription of Geodon to get us there safely.  We only had one major behavior “hiccup.”  (We also had a car accident, but that’s a different story.)

My son, stressed because we had to leave our house and stuck in the car, decided to whip my head back a few times by grabbing my hair.  I’m driving, of course, and my daughter, trying to shield my head, almost had her arm broke trying to protect me.  We were, thankfully, going through a city, and I was able to pull over for safety.

Long story short – I’ll spare you the miserable details, or I’ll write a pretty poem about them later, we are finally back home.

Debris to clean up, hurricane shutters to take down and food to buy is what the next few days hold.

Our coast was spared this time, praise God!

panic

the panic waits till I’m asleep

lifts me from my unstable trance

to remind me that I need to feel it

that panic echoes in my ears 

“Yes, Sheila, you’re going to feel it.”

 

makes my heart jump and skip 

as I peel my shirt from my chest

start chanting prayers 

visualize where he’s at 

start covering him in prayer 

imagine angels by his door

his sleeping body under its wings 

 

tell the panic to leave me alone 

let’s go back to that unstable sleep

then tomorrow I’ll feel it, I promise 

“Yes, Sheila, you’re gonna feel it.”

duty

this beaten down shell of a woman 

the one with the grandest dreams 

grew tired of seeing her shadow at the bottom

and

let the violins lead her out of the water

to take a walk under the August sun 

 

unafraid to 

journey for days on end without sleep 

burdened with thirst but not take a drink

until that duty called her back in 

to cut her feet on those flawed, broken shells 

back in to swim with the eels

back to the that beaten down shell of a woman

like me