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March 8, 1999
I wonder why I
trudge around
self-emptied,
and of self-will
clog my vacant heart
with useless tears.
How a smile
and a light of fire
can be so
deftly
drenched
by a sullen rain of mood-
while I myself
chased the clouds
playfully
to clear the
crystal sky,
but bid the rain
to join me when my
back was turned.
So he says
I've the ability to set
my heart's affection.
Am I the fool
who sets her emotions
on the zenith just too high?
For all my ambition,
have I any love to show?
For all the care,
any solace in my heart?
For all the hours of
strategic dreams,
an outcome worth
sharing aloud?
Seems instead
here's a book
with a thousand chapters
and every one
unfinished or
disorganized:
So twisted and lifeless, methodic, and grieved
that the author herself
can't illicit
the correct plot.
Twisted
and torn
shattered
and shoved
Hopeful so foolishly often.
If I could just close my eyes,
If I could just leave the world
for a time,
if I could just escape through tears,
could eradicate my care
and the loss that parades behind it,
could cast all ambition and task
aside like a restless child
and flee from anything
upright
and strategic-
I would.
If I could dance in the rain,
I would.
If I could roll down a hill,
and lay at the bottom
for a useless hour
and stare at
the grass
and the clouds
and the sky
and the wind
and the smell of Heaven
I would.
If I could sing
at the height of my voice's
power
a song I created as the spirit moves
and have not a critic,
at least one I cared of,
to ridicule my bounding flames,
I'd sing so loud and clear and long
that the smallest piece of dust
would want to waltz.
If I could make something beautiful and meaningful,
I would.
If I could be beautiful, and honest, and true, and diligent, and correct at the same time,
I would.
If I could fill my void,
I would.
I would.
If such miracles were possible.
I would dance and
sing and
play and
laugh
as though no
computer, or homework, or alarm, or paper, or conference, or responsibility existed
....if I didn't fear rejection from my mind.
How many people live inside of me?
I can't hear you all at once,
and surely I can't please you all at once.
I'd like just a single chance, to
only please myself:
But which of you is me?
Heart?
Heart of Flesh?
Heart of God?
Soul?
Mind?
Body?
Conscious?
I swear you'll tear me to
agonized shreds of frailty
before I can
accomplish all you beg.
Would one of you please reign almighty?!
Or for the sake of the peace that's in me,
or rather should,
join hands and voices and wills
and work together
to raise the sun
and dry the rain
that wets my eye.
I've had enough of these childish games.
Enough of my childish response.
If only we would be Child like,
and not childish.
If only we would kiss and make
amends.
None of you can be alone
and none of you can be divided
and if you break me into equal parts
for your own dominion
we will all die
as I am doing with each passing
breath.
Heal Me.
I Would.


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