(no subject)

OK, so technically I didn't cry myself to sleep last night either because I wrote in my journal instead. It's amazing how the morning can give perspective. It is not the same thing to feel longing as it is to feel lost. I found myself a bunch of years ago, and I a'int planning on letting go!

(no subject)

I haven’t cried myself to sleep in a really long time. Not since the night I finally knew that Jandro and I were over. Never once when I was with Chris. Sure I cried; even in the evenings; but have always gotten ready for bed, washed my face, brushed my teeth and pulled myself together. So why am I starting now? It scares me, since I remember and detest this out of control, insides all overexposed, feeling. Like I am being compressed to the core, and all that remains of my frame is this fading afterglow, like when you stare too long at an object and then squeeze your eyes shut; the shape evaporates but its shadow is seared onto the back of you eyelids. I am terrified. I got lost in Ami. I loved Jandro, but I faded into Ami. I crumbled if he didn’t curl around me at night or forgot to hold my hand during the sad part of a movie. Everything meant something. It all indicated that I wasn’t good enough or loveable enough or special enough. Jandro showed me what real love was. To be cherished and touched, like I was sacred and safe. But now, to feel so much for someone who does not, cannot or will not return my affections reminds me of what it felt like to need so much from Ami. An open vesicle desperate to be filled with love to the point of over-spilling. I swore to myself that I would never feel that way again. But here I am, once more, hoping for love, affection, attention. I know he would be so hurt to be compared in any way to Ami. And let's be clear, they could not be more different in their generosity of spirit or in their levels of respect for me. But what I am talking about how I feel. Hurt because I want so much and have so much to give.

Anniversaries

My mother died twice. March 19th according to the secular calendar, and the 7th of Nissan – today – according to the Jewish calendar. Those startling words “My mother died today, or perhaps it was yesterday…” come to mind.

(no subject)

I know it wasn’t the way they said
with tearful farewells at train station platform but still
It was easier then, a clear division between good and evil
Without the nuance, without the balance
When young lovers would part, only to meet again in this life or the next, after playing their part to stay the wave of murder, genocide and iniquity
It wasn’t really that way,
but still
I want that good bye kiss and tearful farewell, knowing that I was on the side of good
That I would matter, that love and life and the fight was right

(no subject)

My dad asked if I was OK, and I chirped, “Sure dad everything’s fine.” But then why do I feel like crying at the sound a distant voice?
Or at the end of a movie and at the haunting of the waters?
Life is what you make of it…You can choose to see the glass half empty or half full…perk up butter cup
But what if the only consolation you get is in the glass of red wine after work or in the breath I can take only every fifth day, or the blinking touch of a friend
– peak and flow and peak again
It’s not so bad, I just wish that everything weren’t so grey
Or washed out by the sun
The skin may darken, but what lies underneath dries out, and all else becomes bleached and bleeds into a dull grey…
But I forget – that isn’t my sunshiny self, so sure dad, everything is fine, just…fine
Or, at least it was and will be again

(no subject)

I remember learning in 9th grade about the rise of civilization
in the fertile crescent, along the Tigris and Euphrates river
It took on mythical proportions, like a cartoon as I sketched in my mandatory map of the region with the colored pencils I got for my Bat Mitzvah 2 years before
I got a 93 on the assignment --
one of only 3 A’s in the class
And now I get to watch the Tigris on live TV
on digital film all ablaze and sad
In vibrant colors so much more real than in my imagination 14 years ago

(no subject)

Gloom misting outside like half frozen raindrops
Flirting with becoming a snow flake or a harsh wind
It is hard to reconcile happiness and sadness.

(no subject)

Spring is rebirth but
Fall is renewal.
Old trappings snap away not
wrenched from a mother's hold but float
into tomorrow -- Regeneration --
the bud of life.