We never knew our way around this place
Content to navigate blindly
The lost leading the lost
I tripped you up and picked you up
You tripped me up and picked me up
Love kept us going,
Invested efforts in the wrong direction
Never knew our way
Method to My Madness 🙂
*Inspired by Day 5 of Writers Digest PAD Challenge
So, around midnight, I started thinking, what can I do for day five? As we know, this is what my brain does at bedtime.
Slowly, a bundle of words emerged:
We never knew our way around this place, but we were content to navigate blindly, more like the lost leading the lost. I tripped you up and helped you up, you tripped me up and helped me up. Love kept us going, or pride. Invested an effort in the wrong direction. We never knew our way.
Well, not that bundle of words. It was more like a destruction of words:
sms aka whatevertheyaint 11/17
Initially, there’s this raw space. We may wonder how it got there, or more importantly, why it’s there. Perhaps we conditioned ourselves early in life to bandage wounds and carry on, so we slap a Band-Aid on it until it festers, not realizing that giving it time to breathe is better than covering it over.
Then, somewhere during the process, a scab forms. There’s this protective layer now, and we go about our daily routines as we did before. That is until we accidentally bump that spot, exposing it again. Maybe we overestimated ourselves, or maybe we were just trying to…forget. In any event, there it is. And yes, it still hurts.
An undetermined amount of time passes, and we notice the scab is now a smooth scar. We run our fingers over it, remembering that unsightly place. But we can do it now, we can run our hand across that area. It reminds us that grief cut us open. Yet, we survived.
- I can only speak for my own experiences. Like most people, there have been more than a few negative events in my life, but I learned to just acknowledge them and allow myself to go through the process. This poem came from waiting on a sore to heal on my leg and then, at random (which tends to happen when I’m ready for my brain to SHUT DOWN), thinking how wounds are a lot like the process of grieving, or dealing with any life-changing event.
There’s something she didn’t give you
Whatever it was it wasn’t enough
She wasn’t scarred enough,
Didn’t understand your demons
She didn’t laugh enough, live
But what she provided was stability,
Loyalty, all the boring words one looks for
Beyond adventure and fun
Yet, she failed. In a sense, you failed each other
You sought solace in dark places,
Hell and shot glasses
She swept broken pieces,
Only to hurt herself in the end
And you’ll never honestly say,
This is why you couldn’t save me
And she’ll never really know
What you needed saving from
sms aka whatevertheyaint
this is a comfortable life,
the repeating of words
did you brush your teeth?
please pick up your shoes
the toilet’s still broken
please, pick up your shoes!
tasks and outcomes
faucet still leaking
more piles to pick up
it’s fine, really
we take on titles
our names irrelevant
with each metamorphosis
this is a satisfying life,
the repeating of words
why don’t you buy a wallet?
please fix the gazebo
the wipers are broken
seriously! pick up your shoes
brake-fluid still leaking
more hats to pile on
we take on roles
our names irrelevant
with each version
SmS aka Whatevertheyaint 9-2016
My aunt is one of those folks with books everywhere. In the kitchen. On the couch. In the bathroom. Basically, in every corner and crevice of her apartment. Often, I’ll drop by and find her reading one novel while stashing a sheet of folded paper in another.
“How do you do that?” I asked one evening.
“Read more than one story at a time without getting lost.”
“Easy,” she replied.
Let me be the first to tell you, people. It AIN’T easy!
I bought an electronic reader with part of my short-story winnings (which is a story in itself), but my new-found toy had no books, no magazines, and very little else other than what came with it out of the box. So, I began shopping. And I chose several novels and magazines, which I determined I’d peruse later, like when stuck at the doctor’s office, suffering from insomnia, or waiting on Thing 1 and 2 to wrap up practice. Meanwhile, I also checked out reading material from the library. (Why go on a buying frenzy when you’re on a budget)
Here’s where the problem started: I began Southern Comfort, also by Fern Michaels, but it was too depressing for my light mood. The guy’s family is murdered two or three pages into the story. So, out of restlessness, I began a book I’d downloaded by Debbie Macomber called Starlight. Not one of my usual go-to authors, but hey.
Then, yesterday, I added Save Me, by Lisa Scottoline. (Talk about gripping!)
Now I don’t know if I’m in a villa, a school, or the middle of a crime scene.
What I’m trying to say here is that…I can’t do three or four books at once!
Any suggestions as to what to read next?
i’ve searched for you an eternity,
rested many places along the way
lost and found and lost again
what tricky games to play
strange rooms, same darkness–
familiar, empty hole
heart ripped then mended
in the game of heart and soul
you hide and i wait,
or you come and i go
are you friend or foe?
who are you, really, love;
from where do you come;
did i pass you in disguise
in this game of hit and run?
*Miss Elizabeth, I think this was my first post to the WD forum:-) I was so scared and nervous. You made a great moderator, and you guys taught me so much.
a snake said
folly of listening to
Some say curiosity killed
perhaps curiosity destroyed