(Poem) When Love Takes Over

The books are piling up again
on the kitchen table where
I submerge myself in the
countless assignments required
in my courses each semester.
There's a microphone now
so I can articulate my French
thoughts, as if my thoughts in
English aren't enough.
The coffee cup a staple
over these coming months,
but an even newer element
lays on the table: distraction.
Romance is a blessing when
it has no struggle for existence.
Love is a cherished thing
but it can consume the tame heart
and the rational mind becomes
uncertain and confused.
The emotions not surfaced
in eons almost, are here now
and need my attention.
They need to be nourished
and cared for or those
books on the table,
that 8-year old child
in the next room, or
that job I attend every day
will cease to have meaning
when love takes over.

Summertime Thoughts

It's been a while since I've checked in here. This has been a very busy summer so far. Work has been non-stop lately and of course I always feel that twinge of melancholy when I define my place in my current position versus the work I want to be doing. Don't get me wrong, I have made enormous strides at work, learning and mastering many job tasks, now feeling a sense of competence and completion. Despite that, I am beginning to imagine work where my daily purpose is instrumental in changing lives, helping people, and making an impact on individuals' futures by helping them to help themselves.

Ever since I could remember, I wanted to be a criminal attorney. I was young and I felt so many were victims of the justice system. With that, I felt I had a responsibility to defend those who were innocent and could not defend themselves. Basically, I wanted to be a public defender but soon discovered - shattered at the reality - that most people are guilty of what they are allegedly charged; I would never want to be in the business of freeing criminals. Rehabilitating them, yes. So probabation and parole became my next focus. Even still, I walked away from the criminal justice program and never looked back. I've since taken it back up, and I'm only 5 classes away from finishing my AS degree. Will I continue further and get my BS? Working full-time, going to school part-time and taking care of my daughter is taxing and time consuming, but since I do enjoy school and the advantages of online education, I will rule nothing out. Social services has caught my attention but knowingly a challenging environment to work in. I do see the benefits and the personal rewards from knowing you are giving people the tools to succeed. They did it for me time and again throughout the last eight years.

Okay, I may have gotten off on a tangent there for a moment but essentially I'm feeling that question loom large again about who I am and what I was meant to do. Sure, in these economic times we should be grateful to have a job to go to everyday, but the desire to do something more than just go to work is again rearing its head. I don't have the answers to the passion I feel to do 'good' work but I know if it is destined to manifest in my life, it should come to pass. However, I am a firm believer still in the fact that we are our futures and we make it happen. Opportunity is often the divine intervention.

And then of course, there's the writing I miss... the poetry I have not written in months. Working with numbers has beefed up the left brain activity where the right brain is seemingly on hiatus, hoping it returns soon.

Aziza is having a great summer. She is having fun in her summer program she attends every day. They take trips to a golf course (child size golf course - 6 holes I think) once a week and always have some other kind of field trips planned. Swim everyday and fun with friends has made it nice for her but I know she'd love to be hanging out with mom and friends at the pool every day, or just out riding her bike, no schedule, no plan.

She has started gymnastics again after taking a year off from it, and after only 3 classes, the coach just told us she is ready to advance to the next level. She was so excited when I told her! She finally did her handstand and that was the ticket. Cartwheels are looking good! I hope she sticks with it, enough so that she feels good about what she can accomplish and has fun with it.

I guess that's all for now... Hoping my next blog post will not take so long. It's really finding the mental energy to formulate my thoughts, when often-times I'm in robotic mode with less and less time for reverie - my favorite pastime! = )

A poem: It is Death

I smell you,I feel you
but you are merely mist.
You died the other day
and I am dead since then.
The door will open,
the phone will ring
and for a brief moment
it is you, until the
memory comes flooding.
I can only taste
the salt from my tears,
feel the ache in my chest
and an overwhelming
sense of gone.
Cannot touch you
cannot see you;
you are like dust swept away,
words erased from a page.
I am alone now
standing in a crowded room
with everyone but you
and I can't see them.
Does your heart still grasp to life,
searching frantically for yourself
wanting to breathe, to live
but now you simply drift?
I sit in your old chair
the imprint of your soul remains,
the sound of your voice
still sounds the same.
Is it better to leave
than to lose?
One day I will know
and I will see you again.

A poem: Moments

Sitting on my new sofa
Plush velour upholstery against
My skin, I am reminded again
Of how alone I am.
I look to my right
And see you sitting there
Looking back at me
Without a worry or a care.
You look at me
And for moments
Frozen in time
This is real
We are real,
Touched by the magic
That only love is
Made from.
Angels upon our shoulders
Nudging this love
Bringing souls together
Where nothing may hinder.
The bond unbreakable
The love unstoppable
And in the deep gaze
Where our eyes meet
The blaze is great
And it lights
the way home.

A poem: The Day After

The day after
another breakup
is the loneliest day.
Passing the phone
wanting to make that call.
What, and say I’m sorry?
No, I can’t do that!
The IM fuck you
was the last of the
crazy things he was
going to say to me.
I’d listen on the
failings of his father,
dead some years now,
and the girlfriend
who tortures him so
but fears her wrath
If he left her.
So here I am
standing in a pile
of his shit
and now I’m
covered in it too.
I wanted him to
know what to do
stand up, be a man
tell me that you love me
and let the others
go to hell.
No chance of that.

A poem: Summer Sleep

The night is warm
sticky on my skin
I lye in bed and
imagine the coolness
of a breeze rustling
through the trees.
I’m tempted to roll
in the thick summer grass
wet with dew
at this late hour,
cool and soft to the
touch of my skin.
I move across the room
and turn on the fan
its motion like
taking in a panoramic view.
It moves the warm air
but emits a sound
that calms me, and
quiets my mind.
In this tranquility
like sedation,
I’m restful and
sleep is mine.

A poem: Lost

In the crowds, in the eyes
the distant strangeness
echoing loneliness.
Like a mirrored reflection
the truth shines a light
on darkness and it looks
back at me, now revealed
and more unknown than before.
It’s as if I have landed
On a new star and
I’m the alien entity.
Tears stream from my eyes
Gushing down my cheeks
I can barely breath
But the air is fine.
I’m in a cocoon
But can’t unravel
Spring free
And run home.
I am lost in space
And the echo
From my scream
Is silent.