Breaking Down

well, i just finished putting out all my santas and my tc timber wooden train set for the holiday. we will be opening presents tomorrow on the Yule so i had to get them all out tonight. it was nice seeing all these old things again. i see them every year, some since the kids were babies, like the train set. but this year it's a little different. this year is the very first time joe isn't here to watch me unwrap them and marvel that none are broken, or appreciate the "new" old ones we aquired, or look at the neat ones my cousin gave me 'again', or redirect my clumsy efforts, or help me put together the little trees that go w/the bigger santas.

he wasn't here to look at it all finished and tell me what a great job i did, give me a big hug and ask me if i wanted to screw santa under the tree again this year, lol, while he wiggled his eyebrows at me. he's not gonna take my hand and take me to bed and watch some corny chick flick w/me tonight either.

sometimes i think i'll get thru a whole day w/out breaking down, but i think i might make it a few hours every day before the tears begin. i get distracted. i seem to get lost in my day. i tend to run out of air and have to remind myself to breathe again. i sometimes find myself standing in the middle of the room and dogs are all standing there looking at me and i have to wonder how long i've been there, because i honestly don't remember i've been lost in thought remembering joe so long. i started going thru his things, couldn't do it. it's all right there in the bedroom where he left it. i found love songs on his computer in file marked Maria, i listened to all of them. some of them so beautiful it was like watching the moon rise on a clear winter night.

ahhhh, i don't know. i just don't know.

Just a Thought

Change, no matter how difficult or heartbreaking the transition may be, is a necessary part of living. And is almost always a good thing. There are always lessons to be taken away and learned, walls to be broken down or built up, lives to be restored or let go. And hope. There is always the hope that tomorrow when the sun rises we can be better people, feel stronger, be more spiritually generous, care more, hurt less, and maybe just see and feel more beauty for just one more day.

My Sweetest Love

Oh, how I love you,
I miss you like the grasses
miss the winds.
The beauty has all gone and faded
for you are the one that brought
the color to the darkling skies.
Where have all the rains gone
Changed to tears gone salty and so
sad upon my cheek
So sad I cannot speak
My heart lies split and bleeding
dying on the floor
And yet the morning sun
will rise
and find me still alive
Blood and tears will dry
yet still
I will cry for I do love you
Oh how I miss you
I can never find you
tho I will look on every wind
you will carry my tears away
Goodbye, Goodbye,
My sweetest love.

dragonwyke 12162012

Talking Water

When my breath is stale, cold and dry 
rasping hard against my ribs
When my heartbeat thuds a hollow tone
upon a crackled skin
When the tender flesh upon my fingertips
feel neither heat nor cold
My feet no longer tread
the dampened earth
                                                             My dreams begin to wander
                                                             my ears seek out
                                                             the singing voice
                                                             of the Talking Water

foaming, splashing, dancing
over, under, around
darkened, rounded
boulders and stones
a fast moving river rushing
down the mountain
      
                                                              A voice in my dream
                                                              draws me ever closer
                                                              my feet and ankles 
                                                              suddenly damp, cold
                                                              my knees and thighs
                                                              chilled, wet

I fall  upon the language of the Talking Water
She feeds me once again
like so many years ago
when I walked her shores and stones.

                                                              I seek her now only in dreams
                                                              I am fed all the same
                                                              I breathe anew
                                                              My heart beats afresh 
                                                              Fingers grasp life once more
                                                              Feet again tread a steady path

I walk with the 
Talking Water. 

mec 
08182012
                        
                                                            

                                                           

For some time now I've been coming to the realization that I am no longer a young woman. I am among the "older set". It's strange to think of myself in those terms, though it's not painful like it was a few months ago. It's become funny, actually, and I don't find it necessary to defend my age anymore as I once did. I still am not finding myself looking forward to old age as some of my counterparts do. The "Croning Years" are still some time ahead of me, though I now stand on the doorstep, I'm not quite ready to darken the doorway.

I find that there are some things that bother me more now than ever they did before. Such as the maturity level of the 20 somethings of todays world. My kids hear me say this all the time, and they probably could quote me ver batim, "When I was 21...." or "When I was that age..." , "I would've never..." or "I would've done it this way...or that way". They're probably also sick to death of hearing me say it, but it's so very true. I look at the young people of today and I just can't fathom them.

Young men that work with my husband that just can't be bothered to work. If they were to ever pop a sweat it would be a miracle of science. Their sense of entitlement boggles my mind. The young women who start out from home for the first time and they don't know the first thing about the world other than to spread their legs and shop. They can't clean, cook or even make coffee. These youngsters come into the real world with nothing in their minds except how to play video games, play bed games, buy the newest technology, and expect everything to be handed to them.

What happened to my generation, their parents? Weren't we supposed to teach our children to think and reason? To be better? To be responsible? To be good care takers of the future? Where did the majority of my generation go wrong?