White Flag Waving

I like to think I am guarded. By my faults. I never get to close, without setting myself apart. I will always be eighteen in my mind, making the poorest of choices on an empty stomach. And the only thing that separates me from my crazy, wild, friends- is my family. I have a place to go home to, no matter how late and how hard I have fallen. I can come home masked in shame and my family will still recognize me.
I can touch and be touched and fold my hands in shame. I can stand with my feet spread wide apart and my hands stuffed in my pockets. Scared someone will catch the way I am starting to rot. But, my family will wash my hands for me. Scrape at my pains, rinse, repeat and find the person I am underneath.
All week long I can sin the sins of disregard and intentions. And on Friday night I can spread my feet out to be massaged and ask for forgiveness. Explained.
Forgiveness explained.
Its that powerful.
I can travel the world and start only at 17. I can make new friends and break away from old ones. I can grow wide, and hide underneath only black clothes- but my family will still find me and bring me back.
Its a love no one takes back once it's given. Its unspoken and still screaming in my ear.
It why I know I will be OK.
But, this week- I tripped.
I feel so flat on my face, I couldn't hide the look of surprise I must have had.
And they didn't have to ask, they knew...
I fell so unbelievably hard.
I got caught missing you in bursts or sadness,
solitude,
pangs,
my spaces,
and then the ones I share.
I was so embarrassed to find myself caring this much.
And I came home, looking miserable and torn.
My family didn't say anything.
They washed me off and held me close.
They strung their fancy words like ribbons through my room-
you are,
you will be,
you can,
you will.
And I know that I am nothing by myself.
And only,
always,
a part of this amazing family.
I feel like holding up my hands
to show you I have surrendered.

My Brothers

When I am with my brothers I can't help but feel special. I think other people must notice how I shine. I feel safe in their shadows. They are funnier, smarter, kinder and safer then me. If I can just let go and hold on to what they have- I can survive this ordeal. I try and catch the way their eyes look down, because I want to see what they are so transfixed with at their feet. I cant get my head out of the dark clouds.

What do you want from me? I can only hurt you with my lack of faith. It can only let you down. I see your motherhood and the way it works. backwards. Like clockwork. You were never there when we were little. Your face was always in a prayer book and now it seems you have memorized it all by heart. You have everything you need to slumber through this nightmare- and the rest of us- we have to walk, fully awake, like zombies- through hospital corridors. I know my sentences run on. I have said it before. My lack of intellect sets me apart from my brothers. In scrabble games. In conversations. In hospital waiting rooms. I am always a brother. Its like the sisterhood didn't fit me well and i never tried this on for size. But now it fits. Being with my brothers has always been the safest place for me. One brother came up to me when I was praying the names of the righteous and he asked me, "Are you really going to do that? Do you really think saying names is better then saying psalms?"

Is that a question I look like I could answer? My faith has finally caught up with me and it is too little to make me run. I stand still and look at other peoples faith, marvelling at my own. My mothers looks interesting. Its bullet proof, a blend of blindness and dare I say stupidity. My brothers are classical. The eternal student.
One repeats "this is so difficult" like a mantra.
I have my own catchy phrase, but I was raised to well to repeat it.

Forget Me

Lately, I feel like letting go.
Because the weight of the world, should not fall on my shoulders.
and you know you let go first.

I followed.
Ava says I never followed anyone,
and i danced like no one was watching,
because no one was.

Unlovable, its my mantra,
my tune.
The saddest love songs play in my ears,
because you never run as fast,
as when you are being chased.

I feel like giving up,
if it didn't feel like i was giving in.

But you did it first.
You were silent,
please in your silence,
can i be forgiven?

forgotten.
and then gone.

Thought I Heard You Cry

Sadness built itself up in me. It wasn't always beneath the surface.
"I am uncharacteristically, boldly, unequivocally sad. That's how I feel." I said. Then I piled towels and water bottles into a stroller and went to watch my kids swim.
I am dressed in black, but my insides are palmed, falling in tears down my face.
I think the saddest thoughts and then I think about you.
I pull at my black tee shirt, I imagine it off.
I would swim the length of the pool and then back.
I would stay under and hold my breath till I knew my kids were searching for me,
then I would reappear and smile.
"I tricked you." I would say and we would laugh.
I am so painfully dry, it hurts when you enter.
I watch the kids swim and marvel at the water.
I stay dry, sane, and then sad hits me.
I wipe at my eyes,
I read my book even though the page is blurry.
I hide.
Sadness built itself carefully, so as not to stir any attention.
And my mother and husband say, "let it all out..."
But, I haven't the chance to.
I bottle my emotions back up,
I press pause,
then rewind...
and wait for someone to play me again.

You Missed Me

I was walking with you when I noticed you had let yourself fall out of step. You casually slowed down and I continued and only when I started to wipe at my almost always dry eyes, did I realize why. In you slack you were leaving me to pretend I was not hurting. You were saying with your body what you have never said aloud. All my fears, the building of my forts, the way we slip in and out of our shades- and then It came to me in sudden waves of discomfort. A tear, the tears. By the time you caught up to me, our lives had resumed its shape. A puzzle refitting to let no one notice its missing one piece.

Not Going Anywhere Fast

It's a vacation, Damn it!
It implies things. I want to run my hands through my hair and then I remember it's not my hair. I want to tell you to get lost, but then I can't find my voice. You make me something I am not. Over and over again. I don't recognize myself when I am telling you things. I put myself in so many places and always down.
Everyone has a somebody and I am yours. Well yours and anyone Else's. I don't play games. I just lose them. First the pieces, then the box. Then I just stand there- with the instructions, and look over the french side. It's easier to not understand what they want from you.
What don't they want from me?
I feel like they will take what ever they can. My peace. My time. My solitude. My motherhood. I am nothing but who they need me to be at that moment.
It is something I was looking forward to.
Now back.
I try and remember how I felt before this.
I felt like I was planning something and it was so unique and different- because this thing I was planning was for me.
Now, it is for everyone but me.
I think at times I know my worth,
I see it in the way I am pushed and pulled on.
Pennies really.
And who counts the pennies,
when all the other coins look so shiny and new.

Your Subtle Positioning Of Self

You were always neat. Orderly. You had a small bag. You kept your things inside. You needed a small space. You didn't like clutter.
Breath.
Imagine it has nothing to do with you.
I picture my chaos and the way in envelops you. My Shit disturbing you
I smile at her.
"I know, I know," my smile says, "He was neat before me."
How do I say that in a smile?
I just do it with a smirk and a confused look.
Where you trying to hurt me? My eyes ask.
Or is it really so fascinating to you how neat he used to be.
It's a past I can't compete with.
You only knew him then.
I was pretty fucking unbelievable myself- but you wouldn't know that.
I was healthy and ate three meals a day.
I was perfectly composed, amusing even. I was energetic and full of ideas and sometimes those ideas woke me up at dawn.
You wouldn't know it.
You see me as something broken. You see my body and all it's faults.
I smile.
Sometimes I like it so messy that he loses his stuff in it,
...and then himself.

R.S.V.P

Frozen Eclairs can be the theme. I imagine a party hosted and only frozen eclairs served. Someone would say "But, aren't these meant to be defrosted." And I will look up in wonder. I thought the term frosted could mean more then just the chocolate glaze.
I don't want to have to be explained. I ask my brothers for some diet coke and they drive across town to a twenty four supermarket. They come home with frozen things. Fish sticks, Eclairs, ice cream - the only thing casually warm- is my diet coke. No pretenses- I'll drink it without ice.
I ask for my i-pod and watch the room without it's sounds. I hear the music and pretend I can write louder then my thoughts. Angrier. Run right the hell off with my sentences. Oh, how they run on and on.
I turn myself off just before I might turn on. You mistake my touch for want. I want the lights on. I want to see. I want to not put a stumbling block by my feet. I want sound on my computer, a keypad that moves, a computer that doesn't need to think before I see my words hit the screen.
I want to unwind and never have to feel the strings pull me back in. I want sleep to hit me like little slaps across my face. Sleep, damn it. Relax. Lie down and close your eyes and just forget.
It's a party we are all one day invited to. Made to tell who called us in. Who asked us to show ourselves up.
And here I am touching thirty. Up on my toes, wearing shoes I never thought I would walk in. Not even for a day.
Serving only frozen eclairs.
What would you do if you could see me now? Would you close your eyes?
Or would you pull my hair back,
turn me around,
remove the frozen eclair from my hand-
and ask,
"Isn't there anything else to eat around here?"