Tag Archives: Saddness

-petrichor-

Today, the book I was reading got wet
I left it outside on the porch, let the rain
Trample over the opened pages, and
didn’t realize what I had done
until the downpour subsided
And the rain slowed to a drizzle

When I picked it up next, I cried
Such a small thing to get upset over
But lately I’ve been feeling as flimsy as these wet pages
As bendable as the soft paper cover
As fragile as the watered down edges

And lately, I’ve been more and more like water
Like a stream traveling with no destination
Loose, unformed, lacking a single shape
So easily folded into nothing in particular
And as hard as I‘ve been trying,
it seems all I find are shadowed crevices
and because of gravity and because I am water
All I can do is fall through
Separating even more of myself
until I’m just
a
single
drop

But when I opened the book, I saw that my notes
Haphazardly scribbled– were unmarred
The spine of the cover– intact
and the dog eared pages– still folded

When I saw this, I cried again.
And as the droplets began to fall once more,
As the gray clouds danced against the wind,
I laid my book beneath the fan
Walked outside, let my limbs fall languidly
          Felt my body flow north
And joined the rain

We Should Be More Like Butterflies

Do you ever look at a butterfly and notice its translucent wings of various hues and patterns? It flutters in the sunlight and its beauty is magnificent. We marvel at the hands of nature, so skilled and so brilliant to be able to create a creature so immaculate. Yet, when we look at a caterpillar, often times, we view it only as what it can be, not what it is. The significance of a caterpillar is not that it is a caterpillar, but that it can become a butterfly.

Such a creature is characterized most of all by its evolution, which is the epitome of profound reinvention. A caterpillar’s very being is made of billions of cells who dutifully perform every task necessary to prepare its host for the final stages of metamorphosis. It sheds its old skin, lives in a new one for a while and when it outgrows that one, it sheds again. Then when it is ready, the caterpillar hides from the world, cocoons itself in a hard casing, and forms a chrysalis. It is during this time of progression that the cells of the caterpillar start changing rapidly. It eats itself and turns to liquid inside its pupa, molding into a new form better equipped for its new life. Old, unnecessary cells make room for improved ones while the other cells that remain reshape themselves into eyes, legs, wings and antennas– all the parts necessary for its reintroduction into the world. Then once the butterfly is ready, it fights its way out of its cocoon.

It reaches the final stage of its transformation, but it is still weak. Its body is still tender from the process of its transition. There is a brief period after it first unfolds from its casing where the butterfly must stop and give itself time for blood to fill its wings.

It strengthens.

Then it flies.

No longer confined to the limits of its many legs, the butterfly explores the infinite paths of new wings.

Butterfly
A butterfly that graciously landed on me and stayed still long enough for me to take a picture.

We are, in so many ways, caterpillars crawling and consuming ceaselessly and without thought. When we reach our limit, we find ourselves at a standstill. During this time, it is easy to think we’ve reached our end and that there’s nowhere else to go. Like the cells of the caterpillar, every part of us will start to seem useless, unable to perform the tasks that were once necessary for survival and for growth. Our old cells are no longer beneficial, so we outgrow them. Thus begins our own transition where our old self forces itself into a new mold. We learn, adapt, and become better versions of who we are.

It is because we have these periods of weakness that we can achieve such strength. And just like butterflies, the lengths of our transitions vary among each one of us. While some may only take a couple weeks to transform themselves, others can take months and even years. Regardless, we are not defined by how long it may take us to escape our cocoon because we are ever-growing creatures running through an obstacle course that’s unique to us.

So when you look upon others who seem to be soaring with ease, and feelings of defeat start to consume you, remember that you are still a changing caterpillar simply growing within your chrysalis. The process of your transformation will be an arduous one. Yet, it is because of its difficulty that you will be better. You will be stronger. You will leave your cocoon with wings so radiant, you will be blinding. 

And yes. You will be magnificent.

This Is How It Feels

I want to love you
To grab the fraying edges of your heart
Sew what’s dangling on thin threads
And help heal what’s still bleeding
I don’t want to fix your shadows
I want to share them

I want to make you believe
In you- and me- in love
in all the world can offer
Give you a million helium balloons
So you can soar into the clouds
Touch the sky, and eclipse the sun

I want to reach for your fingers
Anytime I want, anywhere I can
And when the sun meets the horizon
I want to look you in the eyes
Smile at you and say
Good morning

I want to love you
Show you the best parts of me
Craft a home out of our intertwined limbs
Hold us up on the blades of my shoulder
Watch flowers bloom in our soiled hearts
And know that this is where I belong

         I want to love you
                                                 Then

I want to hurt you
To tear open the sutures I placed
With uncaring and ungloved hands
Watch them unravel, bleed through your ribs
Staining the same skin my lips touched,
Forget the wounds and walk away

I want to make you believe
In every lie, every over rehearsed promise,
All woven by my clever tongue, tell you
That it’s your fault for trusting, believing
In every moment where you thought
We were given forever

I want to reach for your fingers,
Pry them from my own unfeeling hand,
Press down on the bruises left on your skin
And when the sky shifts from blue to black
leave you beneath the fickle stars
And tell you I was unchanged

I want to hurt you
To tangle the ready veins of the love you gave,
Tie them to your trusting limbs, glue their other ends
to tips of my fingers, a puppet to my will
Feel the power you felt when I smile and tell you
This is how it feels

Somewhere

Somewhere

In the world, hidden beneath a concrete bridge,
a child lays on jagged rocks his stomach crying from hunger
In the country adjacent from him the sound of gunshots
fly against the wind screaming for peace, finding only pieces
Of flesh, of animals, of abandoned concrete homes

Somewhere in the world, a soldier comes home to no expecting arms.
No warm embraces with the halls of the airport filled only with strangers,
while imaginary bullets force him to duck beneath the cold wooden table
in the corner of a diner. People stare.
“What’s wrong with him?”

Somewhere a young child watches through blurred vision,
the heavy weight of of his father’s coffin being lowered into the earth.
On to his shoulders. He stares into the sun drenched sky and cries
“Why me, God?”

Somewhere, someone bursts through the fragile glass doors of a hospital
Frantic breaths asking a single question, somber eyes answering

“You’re too late.”

In some dismal reality from our own,
dust settles over unopened letters
Unrequited love decorates pictures
with frames turned upside down

Somewhere, in an unjust, dismal corner of this planet
Spinning in tune with the broken, uneven promises of hope
there’s only a vast abyss rife with hopelessness,
half-baked effort, regrets and what ifs

But here

Here, there is the silent stillness beneath the dark clouds
The half crescent moon a mirror of your smile and mine
The warmth of my fingers curling between yours
And under the canopy of the stars, there’s only me and you
and the grass beneath our bodies, conforming to the shape of our embrace

Today, in this moment, a fraction of the span of our lives,
there is more than what is infinitely imagined
I’ll say we’re the lucky ones and you’ll reply
there’s no such thing
There is only life and there is only this moment

Here, beautiful and messy with our shadows dancing beneath the night
With the future as fragile as the crisp breeze traveling between warm bodies
You tell me not to worry love

That maybe someday we’ll be different
And maybe someday we’ll hate what once was
We’ll push with burdened hearts. Scratch and cry
“You didn’t try hard enough”

And the bruises we hide beneath our ribs will hurt more with each expansion of our lungs

As if every breath that presses against the wounds is just another reminder

And all this will become a memory we will lock within ourselves
We’ll spurn the promises we shared
Wishing we never knew what love was

But that day is not now

Because in this world, tender beneath the stars and cloudy skies 
There is only my soul reaching for yours.
And in the morning, they will awake within the embrace of each other.
You tell me, “now is all that matters.”

And where the the birds sing to the rhythm of my heartbeat against yours,
with the music of the earth in harmony with what I know to be true,
your lips meet mine
And I am overcome