Unaware

I am working on writing song lyrics as part of a gift to one of my children and this came to me. I don't know if it will make a song, but I had to write it.

 

Beauty Unaware

She was fifteen and walked with Beauty

Unaware

She was fifteen and she was the daughter of my friend

And my friend said

Daughter! Don’t wear that shirt

That hugs those curves so new and sweet

Don’t wear that skirt that teases the tops of your thighs

With promises and lies

That you don’t understand!

Don’t wear that

And her daughter said MOM!

And walked away with Beauty

Unaware.

And my friend was tense and tight

With unsounded screams and fright far beyond the bounds of a snug shirt and short skirt.

And my friend said

I was fifteen and walked with Beauty

Unaware

When

My brother raped me and tore that Beauty apart into

Awareness and horror and made me this other thing

And my friend

Who had a daughter now fifteen

Walking with Beauty

Unaware

My friend closed her mouth

And closed her eyes

And prayed that the unsounded scream and the fear that oozed from her pores

Would be too diffused to infect

Would be strong enough to protect

Her daughter who was fifteen

She was fifteen and walked with Beauty

Unaware.

I know what I need to do, why don't I do it?

I know what I need to do.

I need to pick one small corner of the house and clean it till it's done and then move to the next.

I need to get up early and stretch and exercise.

I need to eat more vegetables and fruits and eat less fat and carbohydrates.

I need to write every day, no excuses.

I need to reach out instead of withdraw.

I need to drag out the old that is weighing me down and holding me back- ancient obligations, clothes that don't suit, duplicate books and books I won't read- and hand these on to someone who can use them, or has the strength of will to really throw them out.

So- why don't I?

more whine and fear

I am feeling estranged from my own family.

Dear Diary: from your less-than-faithful correspondentt

I have been reflecting a lot lately. I've been thinking while I've been doing.

I've been cooking a lot.

I've been driving a lot.

I'm thinking a lot about family. I miss my kids something fierce.

My brother-in-law, a few weeks shy of 50 years old, has been diagnosed with multiple myeloma.

I've been driving my mom, myself, my nephews to and from the hospital and to and from school/work/business appointments.

I've been cooking meals for my sister's family.

I've been doing a lot of taking-care-of-business writing- not for myself, mostly, but for my sister.

I've been thinking a lot about priorities, and how much clearer things are in crisis.

Shitty way to find clarity.

stress

Everyone reacts to stress differently. Everyone reacts to grief in their own way. Everyone responds to crisis in a different way.

Usually, I am focused under pressure.

Why do people interpret cool, calm and collected as cold?

Monday, an autumn day

Today may be recorded as the day I officially gave up.

I am tired.

It doesn't seem that I will be getting any of the jobs I have trained for, and time is running out.

Time is passing, and the world for which I have been working still seems so far away.

The sun is shining, the air is crisp. Leaves are turning.

They blaze with color as they die.