Exploration of the self through short stories, poetry and photography.
This house
Where the past blends into its faded walls
And whispers lay forever still below the floorboards
It’s once glorious shine
Weathered by years of changing seasons
A fresh coat of paint would work well to hide the imperfections
Softly veiled windows
Reveal silhouettes of a life in progress
But only offer slight protection from prying eyes
Behind the walls
Muffled voices determine the mood of the day
And the safe keeping of private moments
I am
Flawed
Always growing, always learning
Never perfect.
I am
Humble
Faulted but never broken
Endlessly limited.
I am
Beautiful
Self critical and scared.
Not always.
I am
Happy
Frustrated but still trying
Still trying.
I am
Tired.
Driven and inspired
Empty.
I am
Drained
Taking it all in
Smiling still.
I am
The need
To be and wanted
To matter.
I am
The life
I live to seek
And avoid.
I am
The world
Weighted by love
In hiding.
I am
Everything
Of thought and opinion
Depending.
I am
Misunderstood
Unique and important
Sometimes unheard.
I am
The breath
Guarded, fortified
Too strong.
I am
The pain of it all
The weight of it all
The love of it all
I am
Me.
The spoiled child calls centre stage.
Annoyingly tapping without pause.
Breathing faster and purposeful.
The room starts to fill.
A thousand voices recite lines from different plays.
And echo throughout the auditorium.
Each one of them demands attention.
Their words getting muddled in the chaos.
To choose just one would be impossible.
The atmosphere changes the air, thin and hot.
As the demands of each become more insistent.
Blurring and dizzying the normal.
A palpitating rhythm begins.
The voices louder, leaving little room to escape.
A voice from the shadow’s yells, “STOP!”
Outside, the spectators wait.
Armed with their opinions and philosophies.
Unaware of the disorganization that looms behind the door.
To catch a thought, a moment, a breath.
To pause and take inventory, to breathe.
Soon quiet befalls the thousand plays recited before.
And calms the each before opening the door.
Dim the light once bright.
To wake in mornings shadow.
Slumbered warmth calls to stay.
As cold comes creeping in.
To procrastinate once more.
Lost in a wordless debate.
Twilight flickers on empty walls.
While shadows perform off in the distance.
Quickly to fade.
Shadows retreat along with the twilight.
Passing clouds bring forth obscurity.
And with it a diminishing resolve.
Darkening skies.
Wind cold as it carries the mist.
A weariness sets in as harmony is disrupted.
Replacing logic with doubt.
The evaluation begins.
Deconstructing the antagonist brought forth to question.
A trickster to weaken the ego.
Dare not give in.
Awareness of the self.
Such is ammunition for deceptive intrusions.
Pausing on thoughts that come into question.
That crawl out of the darkness.
Quiet to remain.
Dare not bruise another with altered perceptions.
Soon to pass, carried with the storm and its mist.
A challenge for the lonely though not hopeless.
Darkest are the days.
The self gets lost in slumber.
As light retreats and pauses too cold.
The weary must remember.
The twilight comes from within.
Steady the course.
Through crushed green and dirt I creep.
Searching for a way in.
Faithful to my true.
It calls me back with hardly a notice.
Quick to fill and swallow.
I’m merciless.
Stealing all that lies before me.
Banishing it to the darkness.
My rage grows.
Callously wasting earth as I hasten.
Nothing can stop me.
Fate called me here.
To reclaim a home that once was.
A home that is to be once again.
Replenished.
Weathered limbs exposed.
As coloured leaves lay to rest a life that once was.
The ground, now saturated with red and gold.
Lies still under the weight.
Weakening, they falter.
The last of a few to hold on before they give up completely.
Once magnificent.
Graceful in her summer dance, untouched by change.
Now nearly naked.
Stripped of all her glory and ready for sleep.
Suspended in time.
Her frail limbs waver in the darkness of declining days.
Steadfast and ready.
Her resiliency tested by the arrival of autumn winds.
The last few fall.
Encompassing each other, only to kiss the ground before leaving.
The mother.
Faults uncovered and on display, stands confident.
With limbs bare and her lavish shade gone.
Her refinement stilled uncertain.
Falls to sleep in knowing this is only but a moment.
Before life begins again.
More beautiful than it was before.
Friends.
Always there for each other through the good and the bad.
Reliable, honest, understanding and accepting.
A true friend will stick around even if you unintentionally hurt them.
Because they know things aren’t always perfect, and life is harder for some.
And for the some it’s harder for, you can’t turn your back on them.
They’re the ones who need you the most.
Even if they push you away, a true friend will always remain.
It’s not always easy being a friend.
That’s why only the good ones stick around.
The friends you can lean on, confide in and trust in every way.
The ones who will always have your back, even when you’re not looking.
Picking up pieces that fall away from you.
Helping you carry the load, sharing your burdens, your struggles.
Sometimes just being there.
Good friends.
We all need to be accepted; we all need our tribe.
It’s what helps some of us get through the day and the night.
Whether near or far, they’re always there, never leaving.
Remember, only the good ones stick around.
The ones who prove their loyalty, their trust, their love.
Without uttering a single word.
Because they know life is harder for some.
They’ll never turn their back on a friend in need.
In the middle of the day or in the middle of the night.
Picking up the pieces as they fall away from you.
Helping you sort through the obstacles of life.
The truest friend will never leave you, never walk away.
Even if the push you away, a true friend will always remain.
SUBURBAN CABIN FEVER 