Frozen Bones

I went running in the rain

and the droplets soaked threw my skin to my bone

and it froze.

My bones froze over and now all I feel is cold.

It's been three days.

My skin is warm, but I shiver from my ice sculpted skeleton.

My breath is cold.

It takes a long time for blankets to warm me,

but I long for their company,

in hopes to thaw me

Why is it so cold!?

I went running in the rain three days ago,

but the tips of my fingers and toes are still cold.

I swear that water froze my bones,

froze my senses,

because this doesn't make sense!

I think if I cried, my tears would be ice.

Everyone said I run nice.

They told me what I could do

what I should do

with my talents.

They started making maps for me,

told me what to dream,

and then my bones froze.

The real answer is written in my bones,

but the frost has covered the words,

and that's colder then any temperature.

I went running in the rain

and it froze my bones,

and heart,

and soul.

I don't know where to go

because I'm so cold!

That blasted rain froze my bones.

Sad Chair.. My Chair

Welcome to my room

When the blinds are closed

Under the Window

My chair is froze

Welcome to my room

When the sun shines in

But the work piles high

My chair still turned in

Simple Advice

I have some advice for you

 

 Get out there. Because you never know what you might find.

Words I Wish Were Mine

Famous

By Naomi Shihab Nye

The River is famous to the fish

(the river is it's home, it's safety, it's danger, it's world.)

The loud voice is famous to silence,

which knew it would inherit the earth 

before anybody said so.

The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds 

watching him from the birdhouse.

(That cat could change a birds world for good or bad. Watch out.)

The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.

The idea you carry close to your bosom 

is famous to your bosom.

(your idea.. it's all yours.)

The boot is famous to the earth,

more famous than the dress shoe.

which is famous only to floors.

(This is golden! I love this for so many reasons I can't explain)

The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it 

and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.

(You could mean the world to someone, and not even know. Or someone could mean the world to you, and they don't even care. but you hold onto that moment, memory, in the form of a picture.. past lovers.. past friends.. past family..)

I want to be famous to shuffling men

who smile while crossing streets,

sticky children in grocery lines, 

famous as the one who smiled back.

(Wait for an old man to cross the street, and smile! Smile to a kid in line! Smile to people as you walk by!)

I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous.

or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,

but because it never forgot what it could do.

(some of the most important, and impactful things to do are the small simple things! Like smiling! I want to remember this! I want to live this!)

Starts and the Moon

I'm afraid of the dark.

 I'm afraid of what lurks in the dark

because I swear something.. someone.. does.

and I feel unseen eyes watch me, 

beyond the sidewalk

behind the tree

in the bushes

it burns

but the moonbeams chase it away.

All I have to do is look to her, 

and fears melt away like falling stars.

stars

twinkling

twinkling 

stars

Like diamonds glimmer in the sun

they glimmer

but their price, much more valuable

Peter Pan spilled a little too much pixie dust

and now it sparkles in the sky

reminding kids to fly

and to dream of adventures

and make wishes

I think Peter Pan and Tinkerbell are up there somewhere

or angles

or both

Why do we make wishes on falling stars?

Is that their last hurrah as they tumble?

Why not wish on ones that still hang? 

Or are they to proud to grant wishes?

Perhaps they are busy acting as guides.

Stars guild lost ships

And wayward souls

And lead us all home

Even if home isn't the place you sleep.

and they sing you to sleep, 

and act as a blanket on cold restless nights

and the moon?

chases away my fears

 kisses my forehead

sparks my wonder

and provides a sky full of stars

of angels

of fairies

and dreams

She keeps track of time

and lightens my mind

with new ideas

and I bleed with her

and I think she bleeds with me.. too

She cries with me

And she follows me where ever I go

When I was young I watched her out the car window 

as she zipped along the side, promising to never leave my side

And made sure I made it home safe.

And the stars lead the way.

Then they tucked me in, and watched me from my bedroom window.

They still do that every night.

The moon is my light, when I'm lost in the dark

Ask The Tree

Why does a tree grow? 

Seriously, what motivates it to keep going?

When the wind blows, when a branch falls, what keeps it from giving up? From simply not growing anymore. 

Have you ever seen a plant that just decided to stop? I haven't. Only when it takes its last breath of life does growth stop, but till then, there will always be new sprouts and stretching limbs.

Don't you get tired tree?

Don't you grow frustrated with obstacles? Don't you cry when you get hurt?

When lovers come and cut your skin with knives. Claiming it's a symbol of love. Does that make you angry? Does that make you sad? 

When the tree next to you has fuller branches, when it seems to curve and twist just right. Does that make you jealous? Tell me tree, have you ever felt ugly?

Because no matter what, you still grow. You reach your arms to the sky. To the sun. You soak up every drop of water. You soak up every ray. And turn into growth, turn it into energy. You make something out of nothing. Day in and day out.

But why? What are you reaching for tree?

Do you long to to play with the clouds? Do you yearn for the company of the sun? Is it heaven that you reach for?

How has a tree masted the skill of continual self growth, when so many humans give up?

Space Camp

If I were to die tomorrow...
In the morning I would hike with my dad
Early afternoon I would have a BBQ party in my grandmas back yard
Late afternoon me and my friends would ride our bikes to the church parking lot, and play kick the can.
That night me and mom would sleep under trees, blanked in stars and fall asleep to the lullaby of our voices.
Then I would slip away in peace.

If I died in 30 years...
In the morning I would go walking with my dad
Early afternoon we would have a BBQ party in my back yard
Mid afternoon, my mom and I would talk over toast and hot chocolate.
Late afternoon me, my kids, and my hubby would ride bikes to the park, and play steal the flag.
That night we would sleep under trees, blanked in starts, listening to the beat of my children's breath and to the lyrics of me and my husbands conversation.
Then I would slip away in peace.

SPACE filled with family. With friends
SPACE filled With laughter. With grins
SPACE filled with air, with trees and honey bees
SPACE filled with old memories
is my CAMP is my home
is my CAMP is my safety
is my CAMP is my core

is my
SPACE CAMP