Betty

it's the way that the tears came all at once,

like lightning out of a cumulus. 

and the facebook notifications were so sudden,

people assuring that they're praying for us.

and suddenly the tree branches moving in the wind

were miracles, because her body will never move again.

it's the way that she became a husk,

an empty candy wrapper,

and though the sweet stuff may be gone

at least she's somewhere happier.

and we'll miss her at christmas

coming over every year

and this thanksgiving will be hard

and everyone will shed a few tears

for the woman who lived well

and died when she was ready.

she's better off where she is now,

and in that opinion i am steady.

goodbye, we love you, you will be missed.

have fun in the afterlife, betty.

August 6th, 1933 - August 22nd, 2015

m.e.

I Am Not The Wind

I am not the wind,
that fluctuating fickleness.
And I am not the dainty flower
which is beautiful weakness personified.
And I am not the sparkling snow
that is childhood joy killed by the warmth.
Nor am I the leaves nor sands nor clouds
which shift and fall and break.
No, I am none of those disappearing things,

not ever. 

Vance Joy Concert at The NorVa

6/10/2015

6/10/2015

*photos are by Martina Essert* 

A Challenge To My Mind

lost in the shadow 

lost in the world

lost in the smoke

lost like a smile from a schoolchild. 

astounding how easily we lose ourselves.

astounding how savagery finds it's way back. 

astounding how you look upon yourself.

astounding how you see only futility. 

I must soon declare war upon my contemplations.

I must hold fast to my last piece of lucidity.

I must solemnly smother my broken thoughts. 

my thoughts, not their wretchedness.

my wretchedness, not theirs. 

(m.e.) 

the woodpecker tree

a perfect body, riddled with scars 

marks of the misconceptions of my mind.

a perfect mind, replete with sickness caused by 

the constant war I am waging against myself.

i am holding fast 

to the mast 

of my vessel of lucidity

as it pulls me through the 

black oceans, and away from 

the woodpecker tree 

that is my body. 

away from 

the woodpecker tree

that is my mind.

away from 

the woodpecker tree

that is me.

a personality honeycombed with holes 

from every dark night, and every 

pair of scissors i can no longer look 

upon or hold without feeling

like i drank a glass of that 

opaque black ocean water. 

i try to hold onto that mast

so i do not fall back into that 

mental murk

but the wind whips me away,

and once again i am both the woodpecker

and the tree.

peppering little holes into 

my own body. 

i don't want to go to therapy, 

just to hear the adult say 

"stop making yourself the woodpecker tree,

push those thoughts away!"

and i don't want to get on meds

just to hide the thoughts away.

at night the demons will slip back in,

done hiding for the day. 

i will always be 

the woodpecker tree

and i will always be

the bird;

punishing myself 

for for something I can't help,

and wishing that my thoughts

were less absurd.

 (m.e.)

Sun flares seem to be my forte. 

3.29.15 

 3.29.15

 3.29.15

 2.7.15

9.19.14

*all photos are mine*

"Regular maps have few surprises: their contour lines reveal where the Andes are, and are reasonably clear. More precious, though, are the unpublished maps we make ourselves, of our city, our place, our daily world, our life; those maps of our private world we use every day; here I was happy, in that place I left my coat behind after a party, that is where I met my love; I cried there once, I was heartsore; but felt better round the corner once I saw the hills of Fife across the Forth, things of that sort, our personal memories, that make the private tapestry of our lives." -Alexander McCall Smith

All I've ever desired was to walk upon such an earth that had no maps, to be completely free of bias or preconceived notion of where I would wander. To not know how much longer in that direction until I reached an ocean, or which way I should stray to find the redwoods. 

I will never fulfill this desire, but I can create myself a map of nothing. A piece of paper with no boundaries or borders, simply pinpoints of where my life took an unexpected turn, an amazing thing happened, a journey ended or began. 

That, is what I will achieve.