The Fall


I keep waiting for

the fall…

that gut-wrenching

no foothold

fall from grace

that happens when

the one I love 

isn’t strong enough

to hold the heart

I offer…

I have learned 

through broken

bones

and dreams

and fractured heartbeats

that to fall as I do,

each time lifting

my heart to

brokenness,

is a foolish act

of rebellion

in a world gone heart-blind…

I’ve been called

an inspiration and

a fool

for finding my balance

and rising up

to love 

with an honest

heart

again and again.

And again…

So now I’m waiting

for the fall that

comes when

the possibility of

wonder

is rejected by fear

of failure,

damage and pain…

Look at me,

I’m waiting at the edge…

holding my jagged

heart and all

it’s pieces…

Don’t be afraid,

take my hand

I’m willing

to fall again with you…

I keep waiting for the fall…

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Unexpected Places: A Eulogy


rumi set your life on fire

I thought her beautiful

at any age…

Time seemed to have

no power over

how she

presented herself

to the world…

She made me laugh

every damn time

I saw her, and lifted

me when I was

sure nothing could…

I don’t understand

how she could

be gone

when she never

grew old…

Never got stuck

in any one way of thinking,

always open

to the next great

possibility…

She was honest

when it wasn’t “cool”

and transparent

when no one

wanted to

see…

There was something

about her that

drew you

close,

held you tight

and made you welcome…

She knew the latest

songs and slang

and laughed

uproariously at how

it blew my mind…

She loved

at times when

I thought she

shouldn’t, and the pieces

of life that she

leapt out to have

for herself

that made me

question her sanity

were the times

she treasured most

in her heart.

I can only hope

that she will live on

not just in our hearts,

but in our ways

of thinking and seeing

the world,

the choices we make

for our lives,

and the courage

we call out

of ourselves

to love and live

in unexpected

places.

 

 

Not The One


I need to tell you this. I am not the one for you.

I am not physical perfection although I wear the years of my life as gracefully as I can. The scars I carry are proof of the parts of my life that matter most. I survived shredding my arm through a window at age five. I lived after being hit by a car at age ten. I thrived giving birth to my son via emergency c-section. I walked away from a wreck that should have killed me and everyone in my path.

I’m proud of every mark I wear that shows I won the fight.

The glint of silver in my hair and the twinkle lines finding their way beside my eyes are just a manifestation of the tears and laughter that have carried me to this moment.

Proof of life.

I am not the one for you.

I don’t know how to give my heart just a little bit, or love from the shallow end of the pool. I can’t give myself to another, and then someone else just for kicks. Loyalty matters to me. Integrity matters to me. How I feel about myself in the morning matters to me.

My life is not a game, it is a gift. That is how I see it. When I love someone, their struggle becomes the thing I support. Their well-being the thing I uphold. They will never feel unloved or unworthy due to any action of mine.

I am not the one for you.

I am the one that will weather every storm when I love and am loved in return. If I give with no holding back or hiding, I expect the same in return. I am not jealous, but have no problem forcing a stand down if someone doesn’t recognize an obvious line of decency drawn.

I believe in treasuring a heart that is given to me in trust. I will shelter and protect it from anything that threatens. I will be the tree that bends and twists, losing leaves and limbs, but stays rooted and strong in the face of anything that comes to call. No one loving me will be without me standing in front of them when the shot is fired. That is who I am.

I am not the one for you.

I am not frivolous or vain. I don’t need the attention of anyone public or private to give me a sense of worth. I don’t need to be anything other than myself. A woman who loves fiercely and fights relentlessly for a loved one.

I don’t need to be famous, or best dressed, or most popular. These things are just icing on some cake, not part of who I am. You have to see this and know this truth from the place where you are right now.

I am not the one for you.

You don’t know me. You can’t see me. I’m not a game to be played, I’m beyond your reach.

I am not the one for you.

 

 

The Story Of My Heart


One of my best friends found my heart for me. He sent it to me and now it’s mine, bought and paid for, as we say in the Midwest.

He suggested that I fill it with the desires that light me up and start building the new life I’ve taken such insane steps to begin.

Yes, my heart is as heavy as it appears. Yes it seems to be empty.

Until you notice the vials.

There are nineteen tiny cork-stoppered vials waiting for my first  adventures to be rolled up and stuffed inside. There used to be twenty of them but as life will do when we aren’t tending to our dreams, one arrived broken.

It was a perfect reminder to sweep aside the broken things that can’t be repaired to make room for the new dreams. Things that make a new life. The very things that make me step away from the churning and turmoil of the past and create a new future for myself.

Learn to tango…

Learn Latin…

Walk in the rain, face up, eyes and heart open. All alone…

Re-read a classic…

Buy a ridiculously expensive pair of shoes that will make me magical.

These are the types of things that will fill my heart. And when I pull one out to be done, I will refill it with something new and put it right back into the heart it came from.

I’ll go to a little play in Nashville, and maybe a bigger one at the IRT in Indy.

I will stay home and re-read Aristotle’s De Animus to remember the layers of the soul.

I think I’ll have a picnic with my son and daughter and all of our pups.

I’ll cook for Momma and Daddy in my new home.

I have some crazy things going on in my heart right now, like seeing how far I can get with exactly half a tank of gas in any direction I choose and spend the night where ever it is I end up. Maybe next time I’ll go a full tank.

I wonder where I’ll be. Isn’t that amazing?

In the next few years I’ll fly overseas and breathe in the  experiences of France, Italy, Ireland and England. I’m going to drive to New York, take a train to Chicago, and fly to California when my heart tells me to do so.

See, my deceptively empty heart is full of things great and small that light me up from the inside out. The heaviness of it is necessary to keep it grounded while it holds such wonderfully outrageous things inside.

My heart is a beautiful work of art and a tool that becomes a magical thing when I put the dreams I have inside of it, and then pull them back out one by one. That is the secret to magic and miracles.

You have to work your ass off and keep your promises to yourself.

I know this to be true. I can testify. You can do whatever you want if you have the courage to make the decision and step up.

I’ve let myself down all of my life. I have disappointed and disrespected who I am. I allowed myself not to matter at all. I have taught those who “loved” me to treat me with the same disregard as I treated myself. I don’t blame them. I did that to me.

That’s history. I’m not that chick. I have a heart now. With dreams in it. My friend found it for me, so now I have a physical manifestation of the actions I’ll be taking. That rocks in ways you will never know because you’re not me. But I’ll be more than happy to share my adventures as they occur.

I doubt I’ll be able to stop myself.

I’m going to dance until the wee hours in the Dominican, I’m going to stay home and re-read the classics and I’m going to laugh with my kids as they eat the amazing enchilada’s I’ve learned to make. I’m going to sit in the courtyard and enjoy every moment. Some things I’ll have to save for, some things will ask only my time. Each and every one of them will be important.

I only need to feed and fill my heart.