NaPoWriMo: Day 22, 23, 24
Saturday Night Awakening I blame you So I can keep my story You know, the story where You did me wrong. The story where I am a victim of your Heinous, terrible, irrefutable acts Of unconscious thought, repression and rage. You know, that one. Then, during a monologue By a young man with curly black hair And dark framed glasses (much like a lover from before) I am released. The gig is up The truth revealed - There is no one to blame (Gasp!). I am the victim of no one I am not a story comprised of sad, sad bits Or a sequence of events where I was disempowered I am this one moment. I am born new in every single, solitary moment It was not you, or them or even Him. It was, what is And that's simply okay. ----------------------- Cleaning Scrubbing the bathroom sink The words come piling in Slow at first, easy to remember Then, like a freight train building up stream The words accelerate, take on a life of their own Whole paragraphs appear, rhymes and epiphanies Letters to mother, cries to lovers - it's all there The sink shall have to wait. ------------------------ First Love She was the first But not the last She loved with the tenderest of affection But there would be more Secretly knowing this It was rejection that found its first word She retreated But she did not give up By adolescence there was a fierceness Even she could not accommodate The spaciousness of time took the place Of hugs and kisses Leaving her was hard But harder still for her She didn't show it, put on a brave face But inside, she was dying She soldiered on, as she always does But all the while hanging on to the knowing Knowing, in the end, the love would return In the end, the light, the glow of sparkling blue eyes Would appear, and all would be right with the world Again. Copyright 2011 Heather Strang
Posted: April 24th, 2011 under Uncategorized.