Wasted Wishes 

Wasted wishes fall on deaf ears, there is nothing that can be done about his demons and I am hostage. 

Wasted wishes keep me awake at night and fill my growing body with unnecessary calories. Feed a broken soul.

Wasted wishes leave me alone with the exception of my loving dogs and I thank heaven for their love.

Wasted wishes are anxiety, panic and fear. 

Wasted wishes are life wasted.


There Must Be a Reason: Cancer

“There must be a reason for everything”, said the artist brought up in the Land of Logic. “Certainly it can all be explained if you work it all Putin your mind”, she wondered if her dog even listened to her anymore. My stomach churns after speaking to the closest thing I will ever have to a real mother.

Her voice is weak and she speaks in a hushed voice about how ill she is feeling, as though it were a secret. I saw her less than forty-right hours ago and she had changed already. Oddly, it’s as though we are the only people who acknowledge the “pink monster” in the room. Everyone else goes about pretending that she is going to beat this thing; my optimism is difficult to muster when she asks me to get a prescription for a wig. I offer to cut my long blonde ponytail but am told that I can only donate to children who cannot afford to purchase a wig. All of the images of a thousand television commercials come flooding back to me now and I’m sure that I’m going to cry.

I want to do something for this woman who has given so much of herself. If she would allow me, I would write her story. She’s lived a lifetime and a half of pain but has returned it with ten times the amount of love. I want her stories although they are not mine.

I want to drag her from that bed, take her to lunch and shopping.

I want her to live because if anybody should – if there is any logic or reason to this world – she will be a miracle.


Be Careful

Be careful what you wish for, the words you say to yourself when nobody else is in the room

Somebody is listening even if you don’t realize the presence

It’s there

If it accommodates – when it accommodates – it is never what you imagined.

Wish for peace, not solitude

Wish for love, not to be loved

Don’t wish on the past, it cannot be fixed

And, please be careful if you wish like me. 

Illusion – Dellusion

When the lions are out of their cages, the night has not one star and I am alone with you, all I can do to stay alive is take deep breaths. Who am I anyway?  From the outside our pretty little townhouse with the balcony of blooming flowers appears to be Camelot; come closer – in the heat of summer when all the windows are shut to keep the residents cold, wipe just the tiniest bit of the wet humidity away and peek through a window…

Indoors, the house is ice-cold to keep away the humidity soaked summer heat.  Upon closer look there is no air conditioning at all, not a fan blowing or a vent open.  It is the people who keep the house so cold; cold enough to need the fireplace in the midst of July. Things were not always so icy inside of this quite home on the water, once they were warm with windows open and laughter.  Once upon a time.

Now the residents are a million miles apart while living within 2200 square feet.  The only common denominator is their dog, a sweet hound who favors one greatly over the other thus leaving the man colder still.  They live in the same home but not in the same place; she worries about everything – he is carefree.  Responsibility makes her heart pound out of pace and her head spin; while he chats on the telephone totally unaware of her pain and terror.

She is resentful of the ease in which he gets to walk through life despite any shortfalls that he reminds her of at every turn.  He treats her as a friend, roommate or sister and not a wife – preying on her insecurity.  There is no going back, that option has literally died along with a hundred other deaths.  Forward is an impasse, neither agreeing on or knowing what the other imagines.  The family, friends and neighbors look at them and see what they have been presented, a far cry from the truth.

Home Sweet Home

Home Sweet Home

The truth is unspoken in the house with the flowers and the dog takes long walks with the girl in the middle of the night.  Perhaps this is how everyone exists, how they are able to survive:  live the illusion long enough to believe that it is possible or even true.  Just as I can conjure up my father’s voice in my head or my sweet departed pup’s high-pitched cries of happiness; other live the voices that they can create within their own minds.

If only the illusion sang in harmony rather than opposition.

If only I could turn clocks back…

Wish #1: THAT GIRL

I don’t want to be THAT GIRL anymore.
THAT GIRL everyone knows who will “step up” and take care of whatever is necessary. We love her because she is reliable, dependable and does all that she can to make everyone happy. She was taught at a very early age to be this way or be alone. Simple compromises that must be made for THAT GIRL. In her youth: She did her homework, sat with a blanket of books covering the forbidden snacks that set her apart and she never knew to be angry or that she was missing something important – others experienced – THAT GIRL is her own prisoner. No cell, no lock, no key; they were not required – none could ever be as strong as her mind created,
Fear of the Warden, the smallest bit of spit on her lip and rage flaming from her tongue would keep THAT GIRL hidden away as long as she could make it through the evening
until her only chance to return home and ever see of never seeing of course there was the Mom-ster Warden but she existed come evil or good. THAT GIRL learned how to hide well before she entered

THAT GIRL is falling apart at the seams. No time to take care of herself, no reason either. She is suffering with headaches, gaining weight, carries her sadness hidden deep inside and they love her that way. Nobody could imagine or want her any other way; somebody has to put an end to it all and give THAT GIRL another chance before she self destructs.

MY WISH #1: is for liberation, freedom and peace from all of the ghosts who won’t ever let her be alone. Strength to say NO or to change her mind without repercussion, instead of the weakness that has begun to show in her back as she hunches with age.

PEACE, I CRY OUT INTO THE NIGHT! The Army is facing toward me rather than away, in an offensive stance. When did everything get turned around – were they ever on her side or was that the demons magic?

THAT GIRL must resume the changes she once held so dear; with pride for breaking the chains – cutting the noose. If it is her responsibility to take care of everyone, to do for all who ask and hold back the pain – then, who can she go to for help when the walls crash and the vice tightens? When they programmed you to give until you bled, you were taught never to request anything in return. THAT GIRL is a martyr. Nobody wants to hear those repeated complaints – her pleas for anything; just be quiet, be good, give and never expect anything but gravity.

Is it time for THAT GIRL to move on? I am barely able to keep my eyes open after another restless night of semi-sleeping, mind racing and running from a thousand ghosts. Hold on for just one more minute, hour or day – head in pain and mind faltering – today I will bring my love home.