"People tell you who they are, but we ignore it because we want them to be who WE want them to be."




Another blogger posted this quote and it stuck in my head. Although, I'm not sure we "ignore" it. I think perhaps we accept, then forget. Or we see evidence to the contrary, and so we hope.

In the beginning, though, we accept.

It's a different kind of draft
when
two thousand seven hundred forty
souls
are chosen
Unwilling,
Unknowing,
to fight
and die,
by
and
against
an enemy.
But soldiers they are still.

Circles

'Member what those Big Hands felt like under your armpits as they slowly lowered you until there was a lapping Cold over toes and it got inside somehow and shivered high into your bare shoulders that pulled up as the breeze wisked by.

'Member when your jello legs ran over sinky suction sand towards those Big Blue Waves and all of a sudden They were pulling at your feet and down! you went on your bottom but the Hand had not let go, only changed a sandy grip around your wrist and there was an "Up we Go!" and a change of clothes.

'Member when you were allowed to go up to your waist, and when tired of jumping waves you dug your fingers into the water's edge to catch Fiddlers as they dug against the tide, digging for their lives, and they scrambled in your hand searching for sand until you dropped them and ran to your big colorful towel and peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Remember when stepping out of your shorts and pulling off your shirt was a big moment, how you ran into the water, not ready yet, so that no one had time to comment on how grown up you now were, how you now walked the beach and wished that a boy would and wouldn't appear, and how the music in your ears made you feel like the star of a very beautiful movie that everyone was watching.

Somehow with his every first I remember my own and all that followed, all at once.

Rowen, Tree

hey Tree
so much bigger than
me
what have you known
lemme see

Merge

I had four different blogs. A work blog, a creative writing blog, a family blog, and a journal blog, each an outlet for the different parts of me. In an effort to bring these me's together I've decided to try to post everything in one place. You would be surprised how much courage it takes to post a poem or story to be read by people you actually have a relationship with. Here's to putting oneself out there now and then. When one has time.

At this hour
the Soul of the earth
shall gather what is Hers,
and rock them to their rest.
Shifting toe tip to toe tip,
rocking hips,
She offers sleep in sips
and stays until they sleep.
They sleep and still she sways,
cradling the day
as mother's tend to do.

Eve