Wolves

Still in the revision process, but I wanted to share

My child, he told me, I never wanted this for you.

I raised you to be a princess, not a warrior

I hoped to give you everything you need:

to save you from the pain of mistakes I have made

Am I not the father I wanted to be?

A flinch: this wound deeper than the night before

No, my reply, never you

I didn’t want to hurt you with this

You are not the one who changed me

From a princess into a wolf

– Metamorphosis with a knife

Our bond is more than you wanted it to be

You never dreamed weed and blades had so much in common

to calm and enslave

your first-born child, as you,

so many years ago

It’s too late to save me, I cried

It wasn’t you I was trying to escape

I did as you asked all those years

Never touched a drug

But now, I have found my own release

In the blood that ran down my leg

He cried for the present

he cried as he remembered the past, of chemicals, of highs,

of near-death experiences and

how he fought battles to escape this addictive war, and now

his precious daughter who he sacrificed so much for

Had turned her new-found claws on herself

and he had no way to protect her

At a loss, this man, this warrior, this survivor

wept

Because I hurt him even more than I had hurt myself that night

It was just the cat, I wished I could lie

trying so hard to purge me of the hatred I held

for everything I am

Because I could never stand the idea of me being weak

Yet here I am. Both jailer and prisoner, abuser

and abused

Born a warrior,

and a coward

And he cannot see my inner battle

the wolves fighting over rotting, festering territory within my dreams,

the sickly sweet smell, the sting, rancid meat,

and how badly I wanted to escape

What he could see was his fair-haired daughter,

hurting, because he wasn’t good enough at protecting her

But who can protect the wolf from it’s own teeth?

National Poetry Month!

April is national poetry month, and I have accepted the challenge to write a poem every day of the month.  I haven’t written mine for today, but I’ll at least post the good ones.

My hard drive crashed today, and I’m already going through withdrawals … it’s going to be a long two weeks before I get my computer back

Happy writing

Creative Writing Piece

We did a writing exercise in my creative writing class a couple weeks ago in which we were to completely ignore the rules and write just one big sentence – experiment with pacing and such.  I, as is common, wrote on my experiences with depression and self harm.  So you know up front not to read it if it makes you uncomfortable.  I think there’s a couple of minor language things too, but I’d love to share it with you all.

One, two, one, two, one, two, the walk of zombies had become my own, the life of the undead, hearing, but not listening, breathing, but not living, seeing, but not knowing, the false reality, the sense that nothing was truly there except the weight, the effort and strength it took to walk despite the fact that my body wanted to just lay back down and sleep the slumber of eternity, but it was unable to do so, society said it was so, that it’s all in my head, that I have a choice in whether or not I succumb to the zombie walk, as if I can ignore the weight, the heavy weight, the pressure of the entire world on my too skinny, malnourished body, that is the only reality I know, nothing else is important, not eating, not sleeping, and if I let go then I’ll be gone, and that would be too selfish an act for me to consider it, too much guilt heaped upon my small shoulders, too much to bear for someone already consumed by the guilt caused by the day to day living, by my own breathing, at the complaints always ready to fall from my lips as I tried to cope with the zombie walk, one, two, one, two, one two, I couldn’t stand it anymore, couldn’t take another day as each second adds another pound to the camel on my back, at a steady pace of one, two, one, two, one, two, the responsibilities I have, the work to be done, the ability to take care of my body that I no longer gave a shit about, because all that was real was one, two, one, two, one, two, and there’s no real life to that, no real life to the zombie walk, because I was already dead, but still obligated to live, because other people wished it so, because everybody else saw something I didn’t, something to care about, something worth keeping, and nobody would let me go, and I had no way to understand, no way to comprehend anything but the zombie walk, one, two, one, two, one, two,  how could I understand, how can I breathe, how can I live, I’m not a miracle worker, I can’t call back the dead, I can’t cleanse the leper, I can’t cause the lame to walk, all I can do is one, two, one, two, one, two, caring too much, one, two, one, two, one, two, not caring enough, one, two, one, two, one, two, who am I to take from Hades another soul much overdue, who am I to claim my life when there’s nothing left for me but one, two, one, two, one, two, the steady beat as I walk the zombie walk and breathe the zombie air, one, two, one, two, one, two who am I to fight the guilt, to make the choice I do not wish for, the continuing pace of one, two, one, two, one two, what else do people see in this land where nothing breathes but one, two, one, two, one, two.

A Thought On Writing

This last year was my second attempt at NaNoWriMo, and it ended up starting me on a new book that I am pretty excited about, but I’ve never written scifi before.  I have to remind myself, just as writers always hear, just keep writing.  Don’t think about whether or not it sounds like crap – that is what editing is for.  Don’t wait for inspiration, just spill words onto the page and see where it takes you.  Once you get in the zone, the book will write itself and you’ll have a great foundation to start editing and rewriting after you finish the initial manuscript.  Wish me luck!

So, I’m unsure how many people actually read this, but I figured I would update.

Finals week is in two weeks from now.  I only have one test this semester, but the lack of time is starting to stress me out as far as my grades go.  It’s hard to recover from a month of depression, after a month of the flu.  Hopefully all will go well.

I started NaNoWriMo, and got further than I did last year, ending with 5,551 words.  I’ll win one of these years.

My NaNo novel is one that I am really excited about, it’s my first sci-fi.  It’s going to be difficult for me, and I’m hoping that I will be able to push through and actually finish a manuscript this time.  I’m going to need a lot of support.

If you are reading this, you are awesome.  I thank you

ERR

Simple Things

In light of the fourth of July coming up next week, I wrote a poem to give thanks to our veterans for all the many things that they do.  As far as one stanza of the poem, the simple gift we’re giving back: our ward is bringing this poem and picnic baskets around to the veterans within ward boundaries, so that’s the gift we’re giving

Simple Things

 

Simple gifts, simple things

all that you have preserved for us

Maybe we’ll never truly comprehend

the sacrifice you have made

 

There is never enough thanks

we can give

for the life that you have won

for all of us

Giving us simple gifts of simple things

 

Through your loyalty and strength

despite those showing less gratitude and grace

Means more than any other gift you could have given

by putting yourself on the line

you’ve preserved our simple things

 

So here’s a simple thing we give to you

simple thanks, not adequate enough

to fully express our gratitude

for the soldier you have become

 

Thank you, soldier, for your part

doing more than we ever could

sacrificing a sure future for yourself

so we could have a future for our country

 

May God bless you forever on

for everything you have done

Sacrificing yourself, as he sacrificed his Son

for our safety and our freedom to choose

 

May Life, Liberty and Happiness

follow you wherever you be

until you are again

welcomed home