Blog Archives

what if?

what if this life isn’t what i think it is?  what if it IS more like a Twilight Zone than people want to believe?  what if it is just a scripted experiment, and i’m just a body running the maze, with an already decided outcome and a short time in which to determine the path i choose.  which may lead to the same outcome the other path leads to.

so why am i stalling?  why am i afraid of my own power?  my own magic?  my own voice?

time to live like this crazy life might actually change itself around my actions.  time to live like i’m in a dystopian novel, but I’M the writer of the ending.

time to fully be me, and let all of the magic strands of me do what they will…

to be continued…

i will miss you.2

another lovely i will miss…

Ahhhhh! Michigan…

Three weeks ago I was enjoying the gorgeous weather.  Two days after that I had to get my space heater out.  Four days later I had all the windows open and the fans on.  Five days ago all my friends had their heaters turned on, and I was bundled in a fleece blanket.  Today I went for a walk outside in a tank top.

Michigan may be full of gun-toting militiaists, camo-wearing hunters and chronically low employment rates, but at least the weather is interesting.

too many winters

 

Like a budding spring tree,

I can feel the change coming.

I can sense the

creativity

opening up in me –

slowly, but with purpose

and determination.

But I …

I have seen too many winters.

I have felt the chill

and shivered in it’s embrace.

I have crawled back

into bed

on mornings when

the best I had to offer

was a tested skill

of wrapping myself in

my blankets –

tight –

like a little human

burrito.

And these cold

cold

mornings have left their

print on me,

and seared my body

with an undying

kiss of

frozen-ness.

So I run from life

at the first sign of

winter

and I hide from it all,

afraid my sweatshirts

won’t be warm enough to

protect me

from the elements.

And when the tiny

beautiful voice of spring

rises in my heart

and whispers to me that

I too

can be free

and healthy

and alive

and powerful

I run to my closet

once again

and bury my creative

self

in a pile of sweaters

and blankets and

scarves.

For I must keep her warm –

this muse –

and safely protected.

For I have seen

too many winters,

and I know of the

barrenness of the trees.