This This

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My 50th birthday is here. I’ve a hard time believing it, but I’ve accepted its arrival. There isn’t much I need, rarely anything, but as birthdays do, they often introduce the question, and so I ponder the idea tonight.

Still nothing.

After a week in D.C. and time to breathe, I’ve come to the realization I need nothing, and for this, I am eternally grateful. 

What I want is something entirely different. Those around me can not give me this this I want, so much more goes into it.

*** This This

This this I want isn’t found, it’s given.

This this I want isn’t fair, it’s surprising.

This this I want isn’t impractical, it’s the opposite of.

This this I want isn’t mine, and I’ve gotten used to this…

This this I want isn’t close, but it’s out there somewhere.

Direction

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overwhelmed with responsibility
I listen to the rain fall for hours early this morning.
not a bird rejoices
as dawn breaks, although hidden
but the train travels through
twice, horn insistent.
strong coffee brews,
snowflakes appear
beauty automatic,
like women with blue eyes
and goldenrod hues of hair.
a tantrum wouldn’t fix
what’s inside my head,
use the wisdom and
traits God gave me
stop worrying about
what’s changing.
snowflakes fall
white covers the ground
my lilies now
curled back in fear,
winter refuses to leave
and I wish you were here.

Pain

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image

I watched her
the pain in her eyes
the grip she had on the handle
white knuckled
slowly departing
caving to her mind
yet, feeling her heart
fight right back
tears wiped
smudged across her cheek
watching through
a rainy mirrored day
as she slowly becomes me
incapable of allowing
what her soul needs