Sunshine for you

I bet you didn't know that I'm bursting with sunshine. I imagine that when you look at me you just see me. Maybe you see a little twinkle in my eyes or a shine to my rosey cheeks and don't think anything at all. Perhaps I'm just one of the girls; one more face in the crowd.

You can't see me with your eyes.

If you mean to see me, really see me, you have to come a little closer. Feel the weight of my hand on your shoulder, feel the warmth that my fingertips penetrate into your flesh. Feel the strength that I share with you through touch. Feel the comfort that the fire within me builds.

If you want to see me, really see me, you have to listen with your heart. Hear the words that flow from lips; I speak only truth when I tell you that you are beautiful. Hear the tone as my words cross my tongue and I tell you how strong you are; how you matter. Hear the secrets hidden in between my words and know that when I am building you up, giving you confidence and telling you that you can do anything you put your heart to, I am really saying "I love you".

If you need to see me, really see me, you have to listen to the songs I sing. Know that each song is a little gift of me that I am trying to let you see. You have to read my words and know that for me, there are no lies in my OWN words; This is where my truth lives. When I tell you that are perfect in your own imperfections and that my only wish is for you to see the you that I see, I mean it, From the very depths of my soul.

I bet you didn't know that I can light up a room. I bet you didn't know that I can warm a heart. I bet you didn't know that I'm bursting with sunshine. And I burn for you, for all of you.

After the fall

I've got something inside me that is just screaming to come out. So many feelings that I haven't the faintest idea how to annunciate. I'm not sure how this happened! I went from this meek little kitten that thought she could handle the world to a neglected, abused cat that was truly frightened and broken...to finally grow in to the proud, strong, wild Lioness that I always wished I was.

I've got my own back now. I need only the love of my child to survive. I feel like I have lived through the end of the world, to climb out of the rubble, stumble to the highest point, raise my arms and scream "I DID IT, AND YOU COULDN"T STOP ME!!"

What is this really saying though? Yeah, I'm strong, I'm proud, I'm a survivor. But am I? Which parts of me survived? The essentials. Of course...But no, wait, maybe not... I still have all the parts that previously were melded into whom I was, all except one. I have lost my ability to trust completely.

You may think that that is not that important, but it is. with out complete trust, how can I ever love completely? I know myself well enough to know that I will never love that way again; it's too dangerous. That part of me died in the fall. I love, yes, I love, just not with my all.

I don't want to be bogged down, owned, dependent. I want to be alone, strong, me.

hmmmm....That doesn't sound bad at all.

I suppose

I suppose I have faced it all then. Now that it's a year later and I have cried over it until I can't even see my own image anymore. I have screamed and cursed and hated...Loved, then hated again...And maybe I'm talking about me here and you should stop seeing yourself in MY words.
I suppose that I have accepted it finally. Every battle scar that I wear now like a shiny new shade of shadow that covers the dark circles under my eyes from staying up night after night with a sick baby, alone.
I suppose that now that I have appeared before a judge and wiped that presence out of my photo albums and replaced it with a crisp judgment that says "this woman is enough", I can let go.
I suppose I am done now that I have arms that love me from across the province and over the phone and in my dreams. Now that I have a love that every morning wakes me up with a look that says I have succeeded and finally become me.

I suppose that it's probably time that the thought of what was done is replaced by the knowledge of what will come.

Two Bodies

Two bodies, meshing, sweat on sweat, hands sliding down sleek arms and strong backs. Music pumping, blaring, each beat pulsating, pushing two forms together until they blur into one gyrating soul. A mixture of nail polish, combat boots, tight dark denim and tattoos, brightly dyed hair and body piercings…….The darker side of life.



Two bodies, arm in arm, stumbling to the bar, contagious laughter, tone deaf singing, and good friends. Music caressing, UFC playing in the background, subtle flirtations, sexual innuendos mixed with liquid courage. Beer flowing, secrets spilling and comfortable camaraderie…….The laid back side of life.



Two bodies, curled into each other, warm under covers, in front of a tv, in a big bed, standing in a kitchen. Eyes meeting, lips locking, toes touching as bodies become one. Hearts melting, butterflies soaring, dreams developing into a world of us, leaving behind solitary you and solitary I…..The loving side of life.



Two bodies, watching tv, sharing dessert, a bottle of soda and the bathroom sink. Tickling, laughing, head on chest, heart in hand, side by side on the couch. Unlimited text, late night phone calls, drunk dials, clever chats and cab rides so you don’t sleep alone……The comforting side of life.



Two total opposite sides of life. Each with its own merits, and short comings. “Never will I be that girl that is tamed by love and leaves her wildness behind, never!” Until the day I found that the two could be combined; the living and the loving. I’ve had the two separately and together, I’ve had it all……and lost it.



I’ve sworn that I am happier when free of all ties that bind, so why is it that at night as I lie alone, I dream of being two bodies again, instead of solitary you, and solitary I?

Mended.

there's an alarming clarity that comes with clearing out cobwebs... there's a moment when you empty the dustpan into the trash and tie the bag so no spiders or silky web sneaks out, that is so liberating. what does this mean? I am almost healed. I am bandaged enough now that I am moving on, breaking free of the broken woman he created and grasping, fully, the strong, independant, loving woman that I can be. I'll not let Speedy the Spiderboy ruin what I have become;ruin my chance of finding something real. I'll not give him the pleasure of thinking he has destroyed my hippy heart.

I am on the mend, on the move and on the make. I am sharing a little piece of me with something wonderful. I am twirling in a circle with my arms stretched out, staring at the clouds and just being...No fear of falling, no fear of the landing. I am taking that chance... I deserve it. My heart deserves it. I was not in the wrong. My wounds were NOT my doing so why should I feel the consequence of solitary confinement? I shouldn't.

So this is me singing at the top of my voice, "I am here, ready to be me again...Love me! I am worth it!

The Rainbow Wasn't Enough

The day, miraculously, continues.
The morning after I learned of your suicide,
LouLou Magazine arrives in the mail
Along with the phone bill and the usual
Bag full of advertisements.
Frozen orange juice for 89 cents at IGA.

Errands to run, then the drive
Across town for dinner at Nana's.
Where I drink a glass of wine and convey
Pieces of food from plate to mouth, as usual.
Life goes on. The water is black

Beyond the counter the window reflects
My physical self in a black sweater,
My reflection which is skin and heat,
Pulse and beats, gesturing
And thinks, I am alive.

What makes me alive when you
Are dead? I ponder my tongue
Resting in my mouth and am confused
By it's existence, but life
As it goes on: the routine

Of Pager bills, hydro, groceries,
The meals one must eat to sustain life.
After dinner a drive back
Across town to that downtown arcade
To play air hockey and I compete
Till my fingers are bruised.

If I can just guard my goal,
The wide black mouth
Where the air hockey puck will glide
And disappear, surely I can guard you
From your death.

The puck slams past my defense,
It slips into the goal
Though I am vigilant, though I try my best
To keep you safe. You slid past me into
Death where there are no Lasalle Diners

To go for breakfast in mid-afternoon,
No late nights of Rummy 500 and conversation,
No mornings of driving past the high school
In the old station wagon while the pinched faces
Of students laughed at us among our smoky radiator,

Rosy with laughter for what they thought we didn't have
But did, not knowing
The man at the wheel was talking of suicide
While I was silent, avoiding
Your pain as one does an accident,

On the road up ahead.
Not knowing we were a short time away
From the sunny, blue-sky day
I would come home from Tasha's
And you would jump off the balcony
With a rope around your neck.

Now I wake clawing my way out of dreams
Where I search for you
And pull you to safety, but the truth is
By the time I reach the balcony where you are,
It's too late.

I remember that summer day at the river
When we walked to the edge by the rapids
Saw the sun burst through all that rain,
A rainbow arced above us, and you said,
Always remember the rainbow after the rain.
I was sad over some blighted love, and barely listened,
Because the rainbow wasn't enough then.

And I try to make enough now, but it isn't

Boulevard

Boulevard

Last night I held a handful
of blue pills, their bitter dust
a blanket on my tongue. When I swallowed
and set the glass down, it cracked in two
and water ran across the table
onto the floor, the way blood
bursts from the hurt body.
Across the alley the figure of my neighbor
stood watching at his window,
a "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" poster
on the wall behind him. We had never met,
though we had witnessed the other's
every gesture of sloth or sorrow. In bed
I waited for sleep to slam open
to the dream-figure of my father
Like a lid or heavy earth, blown up. Earlier that evening
I saw my father's face in a stranger's
As it hovered near me on the metro
His skin fit tight around the man's shoulders
Like a shroud, swathed the warm pillar
Of my father's body until he was lost to me.
I could no longer feel his laughter
Or the pulse on his neck, only myself
Shrinking to the size of a child
In my father's embrace, and even smaller.
I saw this over and over, clinging to the memory
Until my fingers curled and eyelids fused
And I was in the darkness, inside my dreams,
Blue pills forgotten.
I heard his laughter, felt his pulse as I
Pressed my forehead to his neck. I was his
child again and the metro passed the
Boulevard of Broken Dreams.