Saturday, February 6, 2010

November 11, 2008

"not for long" he whispered

last night i dreamed a dream most strange and disturbing.

i dreamt that i was at the beach. i was sitting above the sand on a bench with swaying palm trees and waves beneath me. near me was boy about my age, an old man in a fisher man's hat, and a mother with her children. i was looking at my camera wondering about whether or not i should try to capture all that was about me. then suddenly, the ocean raised itself up and struck its fist against the bench where i was sitting at. i shook the water off and before i could take a breath, the ocean hit us again. everyone started to jump up and run, including myself. i ran for the wooden steps and rail that marked the entrance to the beach. the old man and the boy were right behind me; i grabbed the rail and hauled myself up the steps, the water rushing around my kneecaps.

once off the beach and on a street, i heard an explosion behind me. i turned and saw flames licking the sand and dust settling from a hut that had been selling drinks to hot swimmers. i turned to look at the beach homes in front of me. another one exploded off to the side of me. i knew that i had to go and find my friends whom i was staying with. i starting running to the condo, i knew to be mine, with the old man and the boy right behind me. a few yards down, there was an alley that cut off down the side of the street. three figures emerged from this alley. they were dressed in outlandish costumes and each held a large metal ball in their arms. they turned as one to face me and my two adajacent companions. grinning devilishly, they each rolled their balls towards us. as i looked at the ball, i heard a hiss and saw a flame burning down a wick attached to each round circle. they were bombs. i didn't yell, but use that strength to jump to the side into an empty parking lot. the old man had jumped with me, and i didn't know about the boy. but i heard a roar and a yell as flame engulfed my vision before i threw my arms over my head to protect myself. i figured that the boy was gone and closed my eyes, but opened them as i heard a grunt of pain. i turned, the old man was falling to the ground in slow motion. his body heaped on the ground and i looked up to a man in black holding a gun on the opposite side. i couldn't run from him, and there was no where to hide. i heard a click and felt searing pain on my arm. i had been shot. i looked around in utter fear, the prayer already formed to be sent to GOD for my deliverence. the man was a few feet in front of me, i didn't even remember him moving. he held the gun and i looked to heaven in pleading as i felt the pain in my chest, close to my heart. i fell to my knees and looked at the man in black. "please GOD, i can go home just yet." i thought and he raised the gun to my head and run off. i couldn't believe it. i looked down at my chest, there was some blood, but not a lot. i heard another explosion and was up on my feet running to where i knew i had to be.

i got to the condo. i was underneath, leaning on one of the pillars to support it. catching my breath and trying to ignore what should have been my mortal wound, i saw my neighbor. i tried to wave and yell to get his attention, to recieve his help. but he was walking to a ringing payphone. i wasn't sure if he ever picked up the reciever before he was consumed by the explosion.

i had to get to the room. i looked around to make sure that no one was looking and dashed up the stairs. i found the room, and the door was unlocked. i ran into the room where i was greeted by people i knew. i rested. they wanted to do something for my shot wound, but i would hear nothing about it. i wanted to make sure that they were safe. i also knew that they were eventually blow up this building as well. i had to get them to somewhere safe. i was rallying them to leave, when a knock came at the door. we all froze, hearing an accented voice that could only have belonged to one of the people who i had deemed as terrorists. no one moved, until i heard another voice. this one i knew. it was a voice to trust. i heard the two voices talking and the accented one left. the known voice was joined by another known voice and they knocked and asked at our door. i threw it open to two men and i threw myself into a hug with one of them. he hugged me back and asked if everyone was safe. i said that we were, but needed to get away from here. he agreed and started to gather us together to leave. that's when both the men noticed the blood oozing down my shirt. "what happened to you?" they wanted to know. i told them that i was fine. i said it as i watched memebers of my room walk out of the room and safely down the steps. i said it as i felt myself growing weak. my eyes fluttered and i had to be carried out, as the last one. my eyes closed.

they reopened to a new place. green grass growing up to form a little hill on which stood a "house" it was not enclosed, but open to the elements. it was two stories and stood more like a playground then a place to live. it was sunny and warm and teenagers filled the house. they were happy, yelling and screaming, flirting and playing. i was happy to be here. i was walking up the hill helped by the same two men who had carried me out of the house. i looked down at my chest. there was no blood, but when i put my hand to the place where i had been shot, it was tender and throbbed a little. i hobbled up the hill and saw a boy that i knew. he jogged over to me and i hugged him. and i cried. i sobbed out my fear over what had happened. there was too many people that i didn't know if they had made it. he looked at me and said he knew, but he was happy that i had finally made it. "we've all been praying for you." he said. i smiled and turned to the house, finally able to enter it.

inside i looked around at everyone carrying around. it made me both happy and sad. i walked up the steps to the second floor and was greeted by many people that i knew and cared for. they all expressed their happiness that i was better. my heart glowed and the pain lessened.

at the top of the steps there was a boy that i did not know. he was watching me. he said something that displeased me, and i refused to speak to him. instead i walked down another set of steps to a dining area. i stood at a bar table and began to watch all that taking place around me. the same boy from the top of the steps came over to me. i gave him a sneer and went back to the people around me. "you don't remember me do you?" he said to me. i turned and looked hard at him. i had no idea who he was. "No." was my only reply. "that's sad." he said. "i was at the beach with you before everything started. i ran down the street with you." i looked at him closer. i tried to place him. "i think i might remember you." i said finally. "we talked at the beach, i gave you my screen name, and the wave hit. we rain to the street. there were those horrible balls..." he said. i looked down at my chest, put my hand to the place and felt the pain burn again. "i got shot after that," i said to him. "i know," he said. "i was shot twice," i said, the pain growing worse. i took a deep breath to try to subdue it, or to bear it, i knew not what. "i wrote you a sonnet," he said. i looked at him, doubt etched on my face. "i did." he instilled. he reached up to where a hat was on his head and pulled it off. there inside it laid a folded up piece of paper. he put the hat back on and held the paper in front of my eyes. "right here. all for you." i looked at him. he had kind eyes and the beginnings of a dark beard. his hair was long and poked out of his hat. "you need a haircut," i said. he grinned and drew me close to him. "it hurts," i said, placing his hand upon my wound. "not for long," he whispered.

and then it was time to wake up. the alarm was ringing and my body was gaining consciencous of itself. and he was a beautiful boy.


a broken pot

i am like potipher's wife,
with green eyes
and red lips
that pucker and pout.
coveting what's right,
but not mine.
i set a trap
only to catch myself.
falling far
and deep
like adam's wife,
i hid my shame
with a cryptic fig leaf.

life is a tear
falling down my cheek,
running in the corner
of my mouth,
i taste the salty sorrow
and shallow it,
licking my lips
for a second course,
sending it back
to bottle like a fine wine.
maybe one day
i'll turn to salt,
a statue of savor
preserved for those to remember
the consequences.
like lot's wife.

"i am a broken pot."

prisoners of my heart

Oh what mighty thoughts I would wish to pen
and inscribe in ink that which I feel within.
To dig and seek what lurks in my shadowy heart
secrets and truths long buried beneath that which I know not.
Lingering in dungeons locked by rhythmic beat
are prisoners with bounded feet.
For this heart of flesh so resembling stone of granite
with which the anxieties of sadness beat against it
hoping to chip away that which will not budge.
Desiring, demanding to rid myself of one more grudge.
But the stone holds; it is stubborn and strong.
Perhaps too strong, I think, and perhaps it's stood for far too long...

once upon a dream
i stood upon a shore
and viewed the waves.
big laughing waves
that settled a troubled soul,
the ocean made a fist,
striking the sand
and shattering it.
the tide of people crashed
around me,
trampling the grains,
a hand appeared
extending from
my lifeguard.
grasping tight
we ran against the swell
another slender hand appeared.
their eyes met,
their hands clasped
and off they ran
while i stumbled.
mouth full of sand
eyes full of salt,
i was washed away

Old Thoughts and Writings

Falling Into Autumn

mother nature’s last chance
for a burst of beauty
before hibernation.
bedecked in hues
of orange, red, and brown.
her hair falls and
crumples into dust
under tennis shoes and hunting boots.
skin drying and hardening,
her own winter coat,
while a chill captures
and imprisons former
summer breezes
that smelled of sunshine
and freshly mowed lawns.
autumn has her own smell,
packed with pumpkins,
old school books,
musty attics of winter clothes,
faintly of snow.
hear her voice,
whipping and weaving
with the wind,
the sound of the hunt
on frosty nights
under the harvest moon.
she dances the equinox
to the rhythm of death
that descends in gusts
of grey and white,
rendering her frozen.


a budding village
filled with people
like an orchard
in full bloom.

the women gather
selling fruit and flowers
growing, branching
out to each other,
a network of sturdy limbs.

her hands are smooth,
with short, but slender fingers,
hands of a sapling
prized for future harvest.

her hands searching for fruit
trace the curves of apples
lightly brush the plump oranges
grasps and weighs
the green banana bunches.

I watch her and wonder
if she is a pear,
that ripe womanly fruit,
her hands the stems
connecting her to the village vine.

Wondering out loud
she turns, startled
but responds,
“no, I am merely a flower.”
that young blossom.

Finding God

a breeze rustles
her hair
winding its way
across her face.

squinting into the sun
she raises her hand
shielding herself
from that which
to save.

she scans
the clouds
for God
or angels
while her shadow
at her feet
her appearance
while a world
searches and looks
along a wide path
filled with black shadows.

drenched in the son’s light,
orange in color,
yellow of Heaven
red of forgiveness
tinged with pure white
she feels
the surrender.

a breeze rustles,
a gentle hand
encasing her
like a vessel of glass,
but firm,
a father and
his newborn.

staring into the sun,
she drops her hand.

scanning the clouds
searching for God
she finds Him
smiling at her.