mantra?

listen more, speak less

read more, write less

learn more, hurt less.

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someone’s great-grandmother

so I, gleaming in wedding blue,

say, “you look beautiful today!”

to lace on sky-cloth, hair like clouds

behind round-rimmed glass, her cerulean eyes glitter with tears

and she tells me that it can’t be true

her sister was always prettier, even when they were kids

so she just accepted it and kept living

 translucent skin quivering around cracked lipstick

and now she (thinks)knows she can’t be beautiful because she is 92 years old.

she loves my voice and hair, though. Heavens yes.

dear anna XI

I hope that you wake up every day

happy, ready to get up

just because of where you are.

I pray for you to have hope

in things which are not perfect,

that your future failure will be worth the growth.

My desire for you is to be whole joy all through

free to just be.

it was meant as a joke

racism begins with ignorance, so

why is it an accepted excuse?

“I didn’t mean it/I didn’t know”
do NOT

remove the hurt, heal the wounds, hold the hearts

with a thoughtless joke old heartaches are broken

in haste, we waste

time could have said “this is a bad idea”, but no one asked

the point is, an issue is raised

and this is our chance to fight for the right side

get up, stand up already against

land of the free, free to be

(a little bit) racist?

Lexapro and me.

Someone once told me that I was incredibly selfish for not taking God’s creation as enough for me to be happy. That, to be a good person, I had to be joyful all the time every day and the fact that I wasn’t just proved how ignorant and lost I was.

Another person told me that I “didn’t need” medication, that the drugs were a waste of time and bad for me. They assumed I could make it since they had gotten through life just fine without – they’d even been to counseling!

I’ve heard all these and more. That my life isn’t hard enough to merit medication – what have I gone through, really? Blank stares, awkward silences, whatever stereotype they’ve heard or the name of someone they know on meds for depression/anxiety – something SERIOUS, unlike my situation.

The truth is, I am incredibly weak. I can’t handle a single day without feeling like my heart is being crushed by my ribs, I can’t force myself to smile, and I am convinced that I am the single most pathetic and useless person on this planet – that the world would be better off without me. There are times when, out of the blue, fear washes over me to the point where I am physically paralyzed. It is beyond my control, and that makes it all the more terrifying.

I know, your life is not like this. You are stronger than I.

I would do anything to stop these feelings – everything that convinces me that I am worthless, and will never be able to overcome it. It’s like drowning in shadows and darkness, suffocating sorrow not directed from any specific source but overwhelming nonetheless. So yes, I am ashamed of Lexapro and my dependence on it. I wish I didn’t have to take it. I feel unbelievably pathetic for doing so, but not as pathetic as I feel without it.

There are some people who are like glowing pure light in my little dark world and being with them chases every evil away – I will do anything to be as close as I can to them to keep the dark running so I can finally sleep….

All I ask is you not run away from my struggles and stand by my side so that I may have the strength to fight on.

the seat of scorn

Unable to detangle myself from my form, 

what is my function?

I am the mocker. I am the fool. 

(I can’t even remember to be compassionate.)

This narcissistic modernity, our newest delight

is in finding ourselves within ourselves, 

teach the children to find food in their skin!

(God is not loud enough for us, we will eat the people)

Friends are really just mirrors, their voices 

are fuzzy behind the glass, so we will

just tell stories about ourselves over and over and

play with our hair. Maybe we’ll hear it

if they say we look nice today. Glamorous laughter rings.

And yet, inside these cubes of glass, fists are pounding outwards, 

desperate to be truly known and to know.

So many a teary eye is turned inwards again and again, 

spiralling to pieces, rather than

reaching out and anchoring up and down,

finding roots in rot and glory

nourishment through decay and refining. 

Sufjan Stevens (song of the week)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5OCdS5S20dg

 

In light of all these brazen holiday jingles, it’s wonderful to calm it down with a cool, wintry number by the ever-beautiful Sufjan. I saw him live last year and it was the best show I have ever been to. He went through his Christmas album – an unbelievable arrangement of classics and originals, all with the insane Sufjan flair. After playing through a set of wild, crazy, colourful songs with streamers, glitter, and confetti raining down on the crowd, he stepped out alone on the stage in a tshirt and jeans with his banjo and quietly launched into his most famous work: his humble, beautiful, sweet songs. (It was there that I fell in love with Sister Winter, with tears pouring down my face in the dark.)

If you are not already a fan of his lovely work as you should be, I suggest taking some time to listen and appreciate this poetic and musical genius. The Stevens essentials: John Wayne Gacy, Jr.; Casimir Pulaski Day; For the Widows in Paradise, For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti; Holland. There are so many others which are amazing, and there are so many more which are undeniably weird in Sufjan’s quirky-odd style.

 

Anyways. Happy Wintertime.