I can feel it sitting there
In the deep, dark pit of me
My story…or maybe stories
Trying to claw themselves free.
I push them down and down
And still they struggle to get out
Free from the darkness
That has trapped them so long
They fight up and out
Into the light for the first time
A few wobbly steps later
They stand tall, breathe, and live.
Look closely enough at something
It disappears
In its place, formless
A void of what was
What might have been
Look closely enough at something
Stay blind
To the beautiful forms
All around
Step back and look
Listen and see
Be surprised by all that is
Present
Amazing accidents in Life to be found
The fragrance of you
In my mind inescapable.
The wind carries you to me,
Lavenders in the breeze.
In an instant transported
Back against your chest
Arms wrapped around
The last time I truly felt
Contentment in who I am.
Left alone, no more lavender,
The dark doubts creep in
Whispering their words once more
You should not be.
But I am.
And I will continue to be
Because one day, once again,
The wind will bring you
Back to me.
There are some people, when passed on the street, for whom a single glance seems to be an insult; the photograph then becomes a superinsult, the ultimate insult.
This would define the stature, the physique (and the myth) of the street photographer, the reporter: a bruiser, a brute, someone who can stand up to the insult hurled back at him, heavy and awkward, blind, desensitized.
– Hervé Guibert, Ghost Image
It is said that the purpose of a family photograph is to preserve memory, but it creates images that take the place of memory, conceal it, and are a kind of respectable history, unnuanced and interchangeable, passed from one family to the next with the vague hope of leaving a trace for future generations. Not a literary history, but a superficial history.
– Hervé Guibert
I came across this quote in a book I was reading recently.
As some psychiatrist once put it, we all build castles in the air. The problems come when we try to live in them.
Neil Postman
While I don’t agree with many of his sentiments in Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business, I can still appreciate the quote.
When I was a child, I never thought I’d reach twenty-five,
I’d just never felt all that alive.
When I reached the age I’d never thought so,
I will admit for a while – it was touch and go.
Now that age I’ve moved beyond,
To life I’ve grown attached, grown fond.
But sometimes in the deep dark of night,
It can be hard to see the light.
The child once more takes hold,
And I feel like I’ll never know what it’s like to be old.
To be sure, I must admit I don’t want to die,
But, my old self, I’ve never seen in my mind’s eye.
I can still remember
The first day
I ever saw you
Standing there so
Self-assured
I filled with such doubt
Of who I was
And could yet be
But you always knew
Always could see
That part of me
I could never set free
Until the first day
I ever saw you
Standing there so
Self-assured
I was filled with such awe
Of who you were
And what we could yet be.
Together, you and me.
A day’s happiness gone
In an instant. The exact moment
I see your face, only can you such a thing do.
Your negativity reaching out,
Searching for a new victim to invade,
To spread out and propagate,
A never ending cycle, I am caught
Unable to evade tendrils crushing
The life out of me struggling
To breathe suffocating everyone
It manages to hold in its sway.
I get so tired searching for
A moment of peace. It’s so easy
To forget the bright start to the day.
Oh well it was so long ago it can’t
Have been the day. Perhaps I’ll
Just lay down my head, suddenly so weary.
Never to escape, close my eyes…
It’s like a sickness.
A raised temperature,
An unfocused delirium,
A feeling of coming death.
Midnight creature, forced,
Awakened at unnatural
Hours of the day
In a battle for survival.
A sense of nausea
Unable to be quashed
Temples pounding, unyielding,
The coming of the sun.
The early bird,
Gets the worm,
Yet the moonlit tiger
Catches the larger prey.
It’s been a rainy couple of days lately, and I couldn’t help thinking of one of my favorite poems to get me through it.
If thou of fortune be bereft,
and in thy store there be but left
two loaves, sell one, and with the
dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.John Greenleaf Whittier
Such Envy, I have.
For those with no doubt.
For whom life’s plan is clear.
A destination, clearly, seen at the end.
For those who walk on level ground,
Stable ground with no pitfalls or detours.
Such Envy, I have.
For those with no questions.
For whom land is their constant companion.
A horizon of luscious land, no sea within sight.
For those who never experience the terror of being
battered to-and-fro, alone, in a storm.
akervand 