tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7969861500179304121.post6367802306455830961..comments2023-05-16T06:32:21.119-07:00Comments on Dust Yourself Off: Follow The Leader : but who is the leader and which one am I?Valerie Willmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05219261050115171913noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7969861500179304121.post-21471609148214675142009-04-23T11:07:00.000-07:002009-04-23T11:07:00.000-07:00Cathy, you should start your own blog. This is bea...Cathy, you should start your own blog. This is beautiful and aching. Share this with the world.<br />ValerieValerie Willmanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05258181592488349168noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7969861500179304121.post-39635291465783835632009-04-19T23:19:00.000-07:002009-04-19T23:19:00.000-07:00Sleep is a fugitive as I have been unearthed and e...Sleep is a fugitive as I have been unearthed and exposed.My comfort was but a crust, a cloak,long bangs that hid my eyes,thus invisible to judgment I became. Until just now you saw me,you groaned with disapproval,that slight shift in your body as we spoke. Swallowing hard my throat now dry will you sit and let your gaze drift away ? Will your watch demand a glance opening a door for your retreat ? <br /> Fatigue searches for more area than my flesh will sustain. I am old and did not know it. I am insane and the mirror kept secrets and lied.Then just now your verse entered my world,I retreated you know, seeking answers and only found a sleeping child. The child's Father nodded and pursued his search for something long past.His world an appendage of mine,secure and maddening waiting for the Langolear's. Retreat within my office leaves nothing--- Nothing yet will I grasp. I am falling and cannot stop, the sides of the well are rooms that scream for acknowledgment. Rooms that once held giggles and peaceful plans. Or perhaps that is but one more lie self fed,gorging on what might have been. <br /> I live in Hell <br /> Hell surrounds me with mold and leaks I cannot stop,for She who lit the match foretold my demise.<br />Twenty years and more the rustle in the garden stills my lungs until silence and song birds erase the fear. When trauma has held you in a head lock, only those that feed at night see your pain. It is those that gather to feast on your extended limbs, no one sees,there is no redeemer.<br /> My house mate, Ill with deferred maintenance,saturated with liquor,rotting teeth sucking nicotine,kind,gentle and broken. Years of being a child of no value,protecting siblings of no value he sailed away into a world of war and foreign shores. Nine years away and now ten years of shared hell and discord. His goals I do not know for he sails in silence. I pay the bills and bend my back in daily labor, my body shakes in attempted sleep. Chemicals grind my screaming mind into silence until light filters through thin eyelids. A dog whines, loyal and shedding on the dining room floor, waiting for release but I cannot move.Clothing tight and soiled,bedding clean which mocks my filth in all corners. NO I say, clutter not filth, but insanity all the same. It is Sunday and his day of rest, which follows Saturday and generally most other days for he perceives himself as a guest and I, I perceive my house mates ,all five as rock piles upon my dead body. <br /> One is my Son who walks about alone and abandoned by all. That includes me as I sustain his being but cannot feed his soul, which lies crumpled within my weathered hand.<br /> Sadness overcomes me, for his Father left long ago.. He would not say good bye, he chose silence and read only to himself. His pain he owned and would not share.The day he left in June was clear,at 4,000 feet the air invades the lungs easily, still,I could not breathe. Nevada was his birth place,33 years he had accumulated,There was no equity. I told him it was fair this leaving, Not of my choosing,but now I prayed the hour had come. I will be alright my lips formed the words,lies all the same. No sound now ,I could not speak,so light he seemed within my arms,this man I so desperately loved.My eyes seeing what beauty I beheld, his form still perfect and young, his gaze now steady and silent,he watched me die.Could he see,did he take with him my fare well ? My fingers crossed his face as in a dream and he watched me no more.<br /> Today, this day in April full of sun and warm soil was mine. Orange pansies planted,a grand child carries his name,Kendall<br />age six,ageless all the same. Twenty six years and the night brings a cool breeze from some where far away. I do not ask,the answers would only come in damp curls of thick fog,wetting my cheeks with memories.<br /> Pain lives in many areas of our present, sometimes the bills unopened and piled on the floor. Sometimes in the person who will not share our passion while dismissing our young garden.The burdens we clothe ourselves with we call duty or pleasure, perhaps labeled fun. Do you grant the captive in the head lock freedom ? When will you give the soul air ? Will writing suffice ? We love you and will be here tomorrow and yesterday. Remember that we know you and walk with you. CathyCathrynsuzannehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01912258270955330455noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7969861500179304121.post-13649514544111372652009-04-19T18:13:00.000-07:002009-04-19T18:13:00.000-07:00Oh No! I was going to bring this to critique group...Oh No! I was going to bring this to critique group tomorrow night. lol. What can I bring now that you've read it already?!Valerie Willmanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05258181592488349168noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7969861500179304121.post-42327768934062091722009-04-19T17:50:00.000-07:002009-04-19T17:50:00.000-07:00Sounds like home to me. When I start to feel that...Sounds like home to me. When I start to feel that way I go to the bookstore and pretend I live there.<br />You did a great job capturing that feeling of "my house has taken on a life of it's own". -t.t.https://www.blogger.com/profile/16367484441024329944noreply@blogger.com