Archive for November, 2015

a band-aid for this bad heart

November 27, 2015 5 comments

I don’t want to be gone
but that’s what I am:
an empty coffee mug,
a house full of old silence,
a ghost-filled parking lot,
arms and bones
shaped by the word without.

How did I get here?
This place where there’s too much
blame in my blood, where
I’m sure I’d fly away
if it weren’t for these
bricks of doubt
around these clay feet; now,
even my heart
refuses to beat right, a reminder
of everything’s that matters
more than I do—
sometimes grief echoes,
and the sound is worse
than its origins.

I made this
with my own two hands,
but it’s gone monster
and it intends to swallow
every one of my limbs,
and sometimes (don’t tell)
I consider letting it,
because giving up
seems to be the thing to do—
tell me
how many broken miracles
does it take
to make one that’s whole?

You don’t know
what I’ll do next, and that’s
a problem. You were
what kept me
from burning down
this house, with me
still in it. Now, maybe
I don’t care. Now, maybe
it’s time to stop
swallowing the flame,
to let the new undoing
push out the old, if only
to recognize
everything holy that hurts,
heart like a wafer on a tongue,
I’ve always been
a melting woman.

But in the end, it isn’t shame,
never regret, never wished-it-didn’t-happen,
no, this devil in my heart,
it’s grief. It’s adding up
everything and finding the total short,
it’s not getting to see your face,
it’s a goodbye by proxy,
it’s the flashbacks,
it’s not enough.

These walls, this war,
this want, the cruelty
of losing. You were so much
brawl, so much fight, so much
courage, so much strength.
When did you lose the word
for love? When did you turn
your back on hope? When
do you misplace the power
of forgiving yourself? When
did you sell your fierce
for something dull, something else?

We were so open, once—
tell me how to pretend
it never happened. Offer me
a broken dam
for this willful river,
a band-aid for this bad heart,
one kiss I don’t have to send back,
one moment
that doesn’t corner me
as an accident; be unapologetic.

Categories: poem, poems, Uncategorized, Writing

Beside the Golden Door, the Lady Still Stands

November 23, 2015 8 comments

(On the Syrian Refugees)


Give me your inconvenient,
your war torn, your ragged,
your wretched. If you no longer
have a home, let this
be yours. Welcome. This is
no inn you will be turned from,
and you are not deserving
of scorn, so please—take a seat
at this table.

I’ll be honest: I’ve never
parted the red sea. I am not Rachel
or Rebekah. My sins are many,
my mistakes my own. But I remember
what happens
when the mob rules, when people
crucify, instead of offer kindness.
It’s love thy neighbor
shun the blameless. It’s peace be with you
here is my contempt.

To anyone who wears a cross
and offers vitriol
instead of forgiveness: you
taking the Lord’s name
in vain through practice; I imagine
that’s much worse
than a reflexive damn.

To anyone who forgets that
Jesus was brown, that he washed
the feet of those he loved
within questioning their worth—
what are you doing? Why
are your hands clenched?
Why are your backs turned
on the needy? Where
did you stash your mercy
and when did you last see it?

What is often called righteous
is prettied up fear, living
as a wolf among the sheep,
vicious and bloody. Do not
become merciless
because it is easier than being kind,
do not forget that we are a nation
founded on freedom, on escape—
we came here
to begin again without tithe
or restriction. Our arms
should be open, and our hearts
should be as well—or have you
that most of our ancestors
were not even born here?

Give me your hopes, your dreams,
your anguish. Tell me
everything you have lost
to arrive here, let us
collect those griefs together.
Let us look at the shoreline
and see hope. Let us
sit down with water
and turn it into wine, and even
if we fail at that, let us drink
from one cup, together.

Categories: Uncategorized

the blindsiding moments

November 4, 2015 4 comments

I don’t believe in coincidences. There’s too much that goes into a moment—too many factors—to pretend that something means nothing. It’s not random. It’s not happenstance. There are a handful of things, at the very least, that aligned, which results in a Thing Happening.

Yesterday, on my way home from work, I drove past—literally—someone I haven’t spoken to in a while, someone I have been thinking about. Someone who I miss, for a million reasons. The person was in the lane next to me, and there was this shock of recognition, as I leaned forward, “Is that…? It is.” But then, I drove through the intersection, and that was that.

This person isn’t someone I ordinarily run across. But things like this have happened in the past, in instances where it should’ve been impossible. Or, at the very least, highly unlikely. And yet. And still.

That happened. This small moment, literally at a crossroads. And it really got me thinking, more so than usual. Because so much has happened lately, and some of it isn’t mine to tell, but they’re the blindsiding moments that take your breath away. Sucker punches to the soul, the kind of things that make you stop, force you to stop and think about your life.

Are you doing what you want? Are you doing what you love? Are you with the person you love? Are you allowing yourself to be loved? Are you open to it? Are you open, period? (If the answer to any of these is “no,” then that’s something to think about.)

There are no guarantees. There is right now. And right now, whether or not we know or acknowledge it, we’re all at a crossroads. Every moment is a choice point. Every second is an opportunity. Seize it.

Because everyone has that person, right? That person you can’t stop thinking about. Maybe your reminders are less literal, less in-your-face than mine. But when it’s quiet, when the world stops demanding things of you, when it’s just you and your thoughts: what’s occupying them? Who’s occupying them? That thing your heart and your head on settle on?

Make the choice to bring it into your life. Because there’s just this moment, there’s only right now.

Happy Birthday Month, Patty Blount!

November 1, 2015 Leave a comment

Guys, it’s a very important month. I’ll give you a hint as to why: pie, confetti, and Baby. Confused yet? Good, my work here is done. *wanders off*

No, seriously: It is Patty Blount’s birthday month!

She’s a fabulous author and darling person. Patty and I have a lot of things in common (Italian, pepperoni-loving, rainbow-cooking eating word ninjas!). There’s also a deep, abiding love of all things chocolate, and I may be eating a piece of dark sea salt wonder right now. But I digress.

So, Patty’s birthday is upcoming, and we are celebrating. Who’s the ‘we’? Me, pie, and the Winchesters:

Sorry, I forgot Sam, didn’t I? My bad.

Supernatural is one of my favorite shows. Patty adores it too. And there are a lot of funny things that have happened in the show. And in the outtakes. So, without further ado, let me point you toward a few things.

The best gif for every writer:


Life relevant:

(Because, one time or another, we’re all Cas.)

Now, if you see Patty in the wild (Twitter: @pattyblount) in November, this is appropriate:

Of course, you only need to be around the Supernatural fandom for approximately three seconds to know this exists:

But it is basically an instant smile. So is this, the most meta amazingness ever;

There are a ton more gifs and amazing things, but they’re not exactly birthday appropriate. So, if you happen to cross paths with Patty this month, wish her a happy birthday! And maybe give her a pie. And a Winchester. But you know the drill: holy water first. Because you never know.

Categories: Uncategorized