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Sunday, June 26, 2011

Dear Grandma

Dear Grandma,

All of the lost opportunities (and I know I’ve had many) have ran past me as I stood still. Now, the race is over and still I feel the wind swirling around me as those opportunities circle my mind, over and over again. I have nobody but myself to blame for failing to send your ears, and your heart the words that you deserved to know before you left…the words that, although may not measure up to the love and respect I’ve had for you, should have been said face to face when I could still hold your hand and watch your eyes as they smile. Now I’ll never know if you truly knew the pride I felt and the honor it was to be your granddaughter.

So here I sit, beneath this cloud of grey, surrounded by fog, as the world, once fast-paced as I knew it, has suddenly become slow-moving, yet not slow enough to move backward to the place where I can make it right. Perhaps my mind has just pushed pause because I don’t know what to do with the present, and I’m afraid of walking into an empty future.

 The news of your passing hit my ears and left my body deaf. I stumbled into a waking nightmare, the kind that leaves the dreamer just paralyzed enough that they can try to move, but their legs fail to run to escape the chase…so with weak arms and useless legs, I crawled listlessly through those never-ending hours and the only thing to run quickly or run at all was a stream of tears down my face. Even the rain appeared to be stuck in the clouds, teasing the earth with the scent of showers it couldn’t feel. I would have given anything for the sky to wash away the day.

I always knew this wouldn’t be easy, but I never realized just how difficult it all would be. So I will own up to my mistakes-- the main one of them all, being my selfish reserved ways. Every day that came and went without me stopping by to deliver a hug, the days left silent where even three words remained unspoken, I left the love inside me, all the love I felt for you; I never shared it and now it is still inside me, swelling up my heart, on the verge of explosion because I kept what I should have shared and my heart knows it doesn’t belong there. This love, respect and admiration belongs with you.

 As difficult as this may be, I am finding my way through the fog to a cloudless day where I can find a place to sit and talk with you… A day where the sun can embrace us with proof that opportunities are never truly lost. Because I am my grandmother’s granddaughter, because I was born with your strength, courage and perseverance flowing through my veins, I am swimming through the currents, the constant waves of emotions that crash over me again and again, holding my breath then gasping for air but never stopping until I reach calm waters…never stopping until I reach your sailing ship, where I can hug you one more time and say all the words that should have been said long before good-bye.

So until then, I keep moving, carrying all that I must bring to you. Each thank you, every last ounce of gratitude for the many gifts you've offered my heart, for the fun times filled with lakes, swimming pools and the towels, the sodas and all the ice cream that awaited me after hours of splashing and swimming the summers happily away. For the plays and musicals you brought us to, and the waiting while we’d get our playbills signed. For the birthday cards signed “love, Grandma” and for the cash you’d stuff in them. Thank you for my aunts and uncles and all of their love, too-- that same love they no-doubt learned from you. Thank you for thinking I was meant for incredible things and for telling me how smart I was and guiding me to self-confidence. Thank you for being strong so that I can sometimes be weak. Thank you for those giant cookies you used to give us when we’d come to your diner where you worked. Thank you for yelling at me when I did something wrong, and then telling my dad, so that he could yell at me, too. Thank you for the part of me that is because of you. Thank you for most-likely already forgiving me for all of these things I’ve never said to you.

I love you, Grandma, I’ve loved you always in my own way, and maybe now you have the ability to peek inside my heart and see how much of it is there for you. I can only hope.

Love always,

Trish (Patty)





Thursday, June 23, 2011

Finding My Way Back

Finding My Way Back

Roaming
In search of a thought
One that I may have had
At 3 months
When paradise kissed my dreams
And bestowed a smile so powerful
That it left an impression
that would remain
and often greet your sleepless morning eyes
Touched by images
That will dance
Far longer than a burning flame
And though I no longer
know why I smile,
 I smile still, for all the reasons that may be
All the reasons I once knew in a dream
Yet still they somehow comfort and carry me



Wandering
With an intent to eventually aim
steadfast and strong
without a single fear in my soul
And when I do,
I will recall what I’m searching for
And when I do,
I will touch my heart and feel it there
And much like all things found
It will be under my nose
As it was all along.
Though for now, the fun is in the wandering

One day I'll know again
Until then I’m a simple drifter
Once rich in quiet knowledge
The kind we are born with
 and then taught to forget
The kind that has never been learned
But if we are lucky, we’ll have glimpses of snapshots
Between sunrises and sunsets
And we’ll fix our eyes on a distant mountain
As the clouds circle the afternoon sun
And we’ll be grateful that some mysteries can be seen

~Trish

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Hide and Seek

I don't know if I like this title...it may change


Hide and Seek
A blank page
the unsuspecting victim
of the poet's rage
if it saw the ink coming
would it be nervous and shy?
like the moon running scared
from cloud to cloud in a dark sky
leaving the thoughts of a mad mind
on a steady chase
a relentless hunt
to seek out its safe place

The ink refusing to stay trapped in the pen
Finds its sufferer
Then decides instead, to call it a friend
Draws it a true tender smile
Fills in some light shades of early blue
And dances between the lines
Until the sun awakes and peeks through
Soon after, the poet’s metaphors
Follow the sudden change of heart
And find a secure harmony
within the layers of imperfect art.
 ~Trish






Sunday, June 12, 2011

Lost and Found

It's not a repost if I never posted it here and most of you haven't read it yet, right? RIGHT? Anyway, I have had a super unproductive week and remembered that I had a poem that matched this week's GBE2 topic. So this may or may not be cheating but I will do my best to post something new next time. 




Lost and Found
---------------------

Some poets like to 
Speak of things
Like bright dancing flames
Flowers in bloom
Sometimes I can be one of the some

It’s easy to play with pleasant words
And embrace your blessings
When life surrounds you
And treats you like your cool enough to join in
But then there are hours…

When the darkness is at its darkest
where neither cool nor uncool exists
and it wouldn't matter even if either did
those hours that I find it hard to search for such metaphors
When I’m closed up inside four walls in my room…
When the darkness is at its darkest

too weary to do anything about it
Each thought 
On that next deep breath
Just trying to focus
On that next deep breath…
Then wondering if it will come
Or if I even want it to
And I hate that about myself
So I lay in my bed
Hoping to wake up to a dream
Of open space and air

Then I think of all the lost thoughts
The unwritten poetry
That were there for a fleeting moment
in my mind
swirling around so colorful
waiting to be transformed 
to black and white
those impatient words
refusing to wait until morning
resting on my chest when I try to sleep
nudging my heart
until giving up and deserting me
or rather until I abandon them
for a bit of overrated momentary repose

Well tonight
that old feeling is back again
Like a long gone
but not forgotten friend
And there is no strength to push it away
So I guess it’s write or die

So tonight 
I choose to grab those thoughts
in the midst of their flight
before they’re out of reach
and this soul is too...


~Trish