Old Bones…

Well, that didn’t take long. I wanted to write something every day, for 30 days. Apparently, that was too much too ask. I did realize, rather quickly, just why I don’t write every day. It’s hard to carve out the time and the desire. Even harder to deal with some old skeletons, that maybe are best left in the closet. It’s easy to think I have nothing worthwhile to say. Even easier to feel guilty about not only taking the time to say things – but, also for the things that I may say themselves.

I did make a few private journal entries. This one may be as well. We will see. I am leaning towards journaling privately more and more lately, and just sharing certain poems and posts. I still struggle a bit with the fact that some people from my “real life” may be reading this. Truthfully, sometimes I wish I never shared this space with anyone close to me. This is nothing personal regarding anyone, other than myself. It is more of a reflection of how comfortable I am in m own skin. Still. And, how much I like having a private space to clear my head. But, I think that is ok. Common, if not “normal”, right? We all need at least some personal space. And, who knows? Maybe some close to me in “real life” are sorry I ever shared it with them, as well. Maybe, there are old bones that nobody really needs, or wants, to see. I mean, we all have enough on our own plates. Who needs to pick through someone else’s bones, too, right?

Too much light can be blinding. Painful. Immobilizing.

Maybe it’s more important to cast just enough light that our own eyes can start to focus and recognize familiar shapes.. as they surface from shadowy depths… until we can see old bones for what they truly are… or once were.

We shall see.

Hopefully.

~ smj

“Things grow towards the light
Looking to find what they are looking for
And grasses grow high
In pursuit of the sky
Like those who’ve come before
Now and evermore“

~ Untitled (Grasses Grow), A Fine Frenzy

Nothing to see here folks…

So far… so good. I said I’d start writing again, and I’m managing to do just that. It’s been, what? Three days? Four? Oh shit! It’s been SIX whole days! Yeah, baby. Look at me go! Lol :)

Ok, I guess I should not start bragging six days in. LOL Especially when I’m just rambling and posting gibberish. Besides, I know that it’s always easy when I first start back at it.

This time does feel different, though. At least a little. I mean some things never change. I start reading through old posts…. old friends blogs… and I realize just how… repetitive so much of my writing seems… so much of my ramblings. Same old struggles with certain things… certain insecurities… certain long-lived issues. Doesn’t help when I find drafts to poems that I started writing YEARS ago, and get inspired to work on them rather than coming up with new material. Eh? That’s life, I guess. You can take the girl out of the blog, but can’t take the blah out of the girl…
Or something like that. ;)

Where Love Still Remains

Some things, they say,
like certain favorite dishes,
are better after you let them stew,
and rest, bringing on deeper flavors to enjoy.

Sometimes, I’ve found,
it takes time, and a willingness
to try again, and again.  A strong desire
to not only not give up, but to also make things better.

Some people, I know,
like you, my love, are able to change
themselves, and other people’s minds,
like mine.  Surprisingly, against all odds, they move past
the past, to a new place where love still remains, and grows.

~ smj

To my honey… 
I’m glad you’re still the one…

Shania Twain – Still the One

Renewed

Steam rises hot off her skin as the water rolls
off her back into shallow pools that skirt around weary feet.
She breathes

deep, warm, cleansing breaths.  Savoring each one
as if it were the first drag from her last cigarette.

Exhaled wet smoke joins forces and adheres to glass,
surrounding her in a dull grey veil, blurring the world outside
until it fades to black, drowned down and out
by the soothing rush of running water.

Surviving droplets cling to droplets and stand fast on hazy walls
defying gravity until pressures mount into unbearable burdens
forcing them to swell, and spill, and plunge at last
as salty tears merging into freshwater streams

cutting trails through fog, providing glimpses
of life in streaks that call to her.  Reluctantly

the door opens, and with a cloud of smoke and mirrors
she steps out of the shower, and back into existence
renewed.

~ smj

2-5-11
edited 1-6-12

New Morning, by Alpha Rev

Can you see the real me?

Soooo…  I recently had a somewhat long-term blogging buddy-of sorts  (who shall remain nameless) suggest to me that I get set up on Facebook… Well, that is a good idea, right?  Should be relatively simple.  Especially since I have used Facebook with my real name (that shall remain nameless for real) for years.  Plus, I have created and maintained Facebook pages for others, so I know a little about this kind of thing – and really, if I have a public blog, why not a Facebook page, right?  Makes perfect sense.  Why didn’t’ I think of that?