...

I am a parcel of vain strivings tied, by a chance bond together, dangling this way and that, their links were made so loose and wide, methinks, for milder weather.

[postbellumspiro-blog]

[postbellumspiro-blog]

I’m not sure if you rained on my parade

or if the party was a funeral procession anyway

but dancing on destruction isn’t new

and neither are people like me and you

[postbellumspiro-blog]

11/23/16

it was easier before you

[tristamateer]

[postbellumspiro-blog]

[poems-and-words]

[poems-and-words]

Book of the day:Sweetbitter by Stephanie Danler

Get the FREE Kindle Reading App

[postbellumspiro-blog]

7/5/2016

The theme of reaping what we sow is not particular to any religion or way of thinking, because it is a truth we can witness every day. When we plant corn, we aren’t surprised to find before us a field of pumpkins. When we put hard work, kindness, and love into the way we move, sowing these things into our universe and the people around us, we can be sure that these things we put out will come back to us. Hate doesn’t live where love does, and darkness can’t stay when there’s a light – and a constant refreshing of thoughts and reactions will help us to both plant and harvest the kindness we crave. As this Independence Day has come and gone, I have reflected on the foundations of our country, and what we are sowing. I feel so blessed to live in the United States, and to live here in a time when we are finally bringing in the things we were built on. Some 240 years ago, we were formed on independence – a place where the free and the brave are able to do and be the things that make them feel free and brave. Here, love is finally winning. We are learning to love everyone the same, and while our journey toward better things has not always been a unified march, we have always known where we are going. As I reflect on the things we have sown, the fights we have fought, and what we can and will reap – I am sure that GOP presumptive nominee Donald Trump is not someone we can elect. His themes of bigotry, slander, and anger cannot be what we sow, nor their results what we hope to reap. As you decide who you will vote for, I hope that you similarly think about the foundations we’ve built, the walls we’ve already crashed, and the glass ceilings we’ve already broken – and let’s plant our flag on the top of the rubble for everyone to see: we are a people proud of our progress. We will reap what we sow – let it be love, life, and the pursuit of happiness. I have a duty to protect the values that matter, and this country I call home, and so, #ImWithHer.

[postbellumspiro-blog]

6/26/16

everything is sad the skies insist on raining, a lot and i can feel it in my bones i stare out a lot of windows & am constantly compelled to sleep my feet are heavy and my hands have nothing to hold the depths of sadness aren’t the easiest to navigate because it’s dark and thick and everything feels like sleeping would be better but some places don’t have the option of turning on a light and here we are now wouldn’t mind the sun, anytime 

[spacevorobey]

[postbellumspiro-blog]

05/15/2016

when i’m far away, the way that i miss home feels like distance is the enemy, but now i’m closer and the things i think i miss are not. these things i miss, i miss because they aren’t at all, rather than because they are existing far from me - and I’m not sure there were ever here anyway. i have been so sad, for so long. the support i require, the arms i desire to hold my broken pieces, are nowhere to be found. my ears are ringing from listening for so long to silence, desperately waiting for it to be filled with words that will illuminate my darknesses. i have craved these things for a long time, and this place is full of all my substitutes. people who half listened and never wasted a moment trying to understand, hands that grab at what’s left instead of fixing anything, and words that hurt more than the silence - a host of things that i have surely never missed. i think i miss these people & this place -- but i don’t. the things i miss aren’t here, and were never mine. i crave stability, love, wholeness - the ideas of these things that i can’t totally understand because i’ve never possessed them, and i’ve let halves work as wholes. the gaps these insufficient ideas leave ache, for my heart was never made to hold all of it’s own weight. i do not want to be here, where i’m reminded constantly of all i dont have, and all the reasons why. i don’t want to be here surrounded by people who preferred the distance, in a house that doesn’t even have a trace of home left to be found in the dirtiest corners.  maybe all i ever really miss is me -- & the pieces that have been scattered. maybe i come here in search of fragments of me, but i think they blew away; next time i’ll follow the wind, instead of returning to visit with my closet of skeletons.

[poems-and-words]

[postbellumspiro-blog]

05/15/2016

i feel a little like i’d imagine a corpse feels - cold, empty, only a fraction of former glory the thing about a corpse though, is that it’s both only a person and the lack of one

me and my emptiness, against the world maybe eventually, i’ll find another half not my other half -                               just another half

is wholeness an illusion? does everyone feel like half themselves? is this a graveyard, not a party? are we all a little dead to start, since we must be completely to finish? is dying a process, a spectrum i’m sailing? have i just moved from less to more dead?                 do you think it means i’m dying?                      to be so alive, and feel so exhausted with it?

    probably, huh? it probably means i’m dying -- maybe it has to start slow, so it won’t be so frightening - maybe if i live like a corpse, dying won’t feel so foreign  people fear death because they’ve always been too concerned with survival; but everyone’s afraid of somethin’ -- it’s unfortunate mine had to be tomorrow.

[postbellumspiro-blog]

05/10/2016

It could almost be funny, 

if it was less like a heart attack:  that I have been afraid of almost every pair of eyes that lock with mine

& that it was not so, with you that you were never frightening, because you had eyes that already knew me

every other pair of eyes has the potential to strip down my soul to view the skeleton of my existence, and to never know anything at all. and I am afraid of being unknown

of being only an object, seen by a pair of eyes that never wanted to know, anyway of people, who will turn my life into something to talk about I’m afraid of being only looked at, and not seen. It’s different, being unseen and unknown, it makes living feel like dying, and all the wind frigid.

I offered you my fears, and you handed them back, when met with a handful of my demons, you said they could never live with yours

you weren’t scary, because you wanted to know -- now, you’re horrifying, because you do, and you didn’t stay

people who are dying of sudden heart attacks, even if it’s their first one, know somehow what is happening to them. something in their brain tells them their heart is compromised, and that this fact could kill them.

you happened, and I already knew - you and your knowing eyes, are almost funny; except that it feels a little like a heart attack.

[postbellumspiro-blog]

05/05/2016

feelin’ real lucky to get to acquire knowledge as a full time job for this part of my life. we complain a lot, as young college students with high expectations and low life experience. we whine about food and room temperature and annoying teachers and weird peers and late nights of homework. sometimes we’re being petty, like when we can’t handle the walk to get food, or someone gets in trouble for something that doesn’t quite make sense. sometimes though, we aren’t being petty, we really genuinely feel shorted in some way. we’re here in a voluntary prison of sorts with our peers, and it makes us feel compelled to wallow - because we’re human, and we’re spoiled.  the reality, though, is that there are a lot of people who don’t go to my school, who’s gaze would immediately silence my complaining words. there are more than a few people with food situations that would make me thank god every day to eat my school food. there are people, right here, who have been made to inadequate in terms of intelligence, who do not believe themselves to be capable of a career of learning. there are so many heads resting on beds that make my dorm room with it’s memory foam seem like some kind of cloud from heaven. there are so many people, who could render me unable to think of a single one when they question me about just what i have to complain about. i love learning, i love that 7 days of my week are spent reading and writing and highlighting and listening and understanding. i love that i make connections with other people who love what i love, and i feel so incredibly blessed to be a full time learner.  i hope, next year, to run out of complaints before the end of school - i have had a really stellar year, and I feel pretty lucky when I reflect for a second.

[postbellumspiro-blog]

05/02/2016

“that’s a pretty strong word,”  they like to say, intimidated by the finality -  pick a different one, with less feeling. describe it with something kinder, something reversible, just in case tear me down, build me up string sounds together till they’re spent repetition is boring and you keep saying the same things

i don’t want to hear you, and i don’t want to choose another word it is strong, but so am i   and i’m pretty sure it’s true - 

                                    i think i hate you.

[postbellumspiro-blog]

05/01/2016

To my best friend sister: Last week, someone asked me what my favorite day of the year is, and I thought about it for a long time – my first response was going to be the first day of football season, and then I thought about saying Christmas, because everyone says Christmas, and it is a pretty nice day. But the answer I gave, and the answer that’s true, is that May 1st is my very favorite day of the year. May day is already a holiday of sorts, but in my heart, it’s the best one of all. Today’s my favorite day, and next time someone asks, I’ll know without thinking.  16 years ago today, your crazy hair and projectile vomiting problem made their way into my life, and I’ve been better for it every day since. We weren’t always best friends, and I’m not sure when the shift occurred that made us less at odds and more in tune. You have the ability to frustrate me more than anyone else, but only because you can play my heart strings like all the other instruments you make sing, and I will always be the most enthralled member of your audience.  You are the most beautiful, most graceful, most kind, most genuine, most talented, most magical person I have ever known. You leave a trail of glitter everywhere you go, a kind of soul gripping magic that won’t be ignored.  You are small and quiet, but you’ve got the stuff that moves mountains, and it shows in your eyes with skies in them. I don’t think anyone’s ever listened to you speak or sing or watched the way you move and wondered if you meant it; you are remarkably authentic, and your ability to be 100% only Glory Miller all of the time is comforting for my wishy washy heart. You’re special, in ways you won’t ever know.  And so little lady, here goes year 16 – I cannot wait to see you dance through another year with sunshine on your face and the wind at your back – this world is yours if you want it. Remember that nothing lasts forever, and learning to let things come and go is necessary for good rest at night. Remember that you aren’t an adult, you aren’t required to know everything now. You are 16, you’ve never been as old as you are right now – it is okay to not know how to do it, and to sit on the floor and stare at the wall instead. It’s okay to be so tired of crying that you want to hit every wall in sight; and then it’s okay to be too afraid that doing so would break your hand. I recommend twirling in the rain, and eating junk food in your bed late at night, and long phone calls with people who speak to your mind and your heart. I recommend loving, as many things, places, and people as you possibly can. I recommend letting people who earn it see every corner of your soul – it takes trust, and it’s beautiful. Take long walks, and short naps when either feels necessary, because it will help. You can be and do anything in the world, I’ve never believed in anyone so wholeheartedly. If my purpose were only to watch you shine, I could sit in the audience of your show for a lifetime and not need an intermission. Don’t you ever stop dreaming – during the day, when you sleep, when you see the face of someone you hope you’ll keep seeing forever. Don’t let this world make you cold, don’t let it break your heart, it’s only life and it goes on. Thank you for being my person for 16 years, there is no one luckier than me, your older sister who has gotten to witness you since day one. I am grateful to have not missed even a day of knowing you, and for all the things I’ve learned along the way. You remind me to dance in the rain, to not be okay with second best, and to love fiercely. Thank you for holding me when I’m breaking, and for being the most reliable receiver of my humor. You are my best friend, and I love you more than you know. And so, May first is my favorite day of the year – because lots of other days involve gifts and things I love, but any other gift pales in comparison to having been blessed to have you for this long. Happy birthday, kiddo – I hope your day and year are full of so many good things you can’t finish experiencing one thing before another beautiful thing is begging to happen. I hope the stars dance for you, and the moon follows you every time you look out a car window in the dark – and that you never stop thinking somehow it could actually be following you, specifically. I hope you eat good food and laugh so hard you could be eating oatmeal and it would taste gourmet. And, Glory, I hope to be a part of your life and heart forever. Just try and never grow up, my sweet. Yours always, -J 

[antigonick]

I took my power in my hand And went against the world;

Emily Dickinson, excerpt of I Took My Power (via antigonick)