Fallen Shadows Still Rise

We might think of them as a memory,

the pain of losing them,

the loss of heartfelt passions and laughs,

we might imagine them a memory.

 

Yet, their shadows can still rise,

it is where we left them,

forced to say good-bye,

we remembered how they stood against the wall.

 

Oh to have the fortitude,

of those quiet souls,

the bodies left behind,

and yet still, the strength they show beyond.

 

We wondered out loud,

why should I be left alive,

who’s the lucky one,

who’s the recorder of their sweet mystique.

 

I wander sometimes quite a distance,

before I land,

I recognize my shadow always remains,

it is a spectacular sunlight.

 

Oh, to hold the sweet caress of yesterday,

to know the beauty we have all a reveal,

to touch the universe in one short life,

is to know the serenity of time …

 

It is inside the mystery of time,

when our shadows rise again.

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If There Were No Tears

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We couldn’t celebrate our love

We wouldn’t know if there was loss

We would forever be drawn to nothing

We would be simply nothing

for with tears live our emotions,

for with tears we become alive within ourselves

for with tears we can reach a climactic end to the suffering,

– perhaps only to live within the carnage by choice –

if we could not show tears, we would be the zombies we choose to ignore,

yet the value of a cleansing cry leaves hope,

yet the value of a quiet release gives opportunity to know

yet the value of a screaming paradox of lost love allows another to take your place.

for within our tears is a pool of thoughtful love

to know we live in each other’s eyes, rather than a barren wood,

we do delight to feel such joy that brings our tears

we do need to let go of all the hurt and pain and grief with zeal,

we do know our love in tears can become real.

If there were no tears I would change my music

If there were no tears …

my eyes would be dry.

Addicts Hold On

© Ester Rogers

© Ester Rogers

We do hang on while figuring out how to let go. I am often trapped inside a need to please everyone, and when I cannot, I obsess about that one difficult situation, generally that one person who I cannot fix. Why should I have to fix anyone anyway; I usually end up realizing I have to repair my own misgivings, generally my own faults. What happens though is that along the way I forget to come home, and I remain adrift in a sea of turmoil. I suppose that is when the term letting go comes into play. I wish I had a better handle on that method of resolution.

Someone told me once my thinking was that of an addict. Well, I do know clearly I am an addict, but I struggle with how that interacts with my obsession with needing everyone to be my friend. I know I have moments of clarity when I can come to terms with the fact that there are people that may just not like me. What an epiphany right? That I might actually be a person whose behavior or beliefs does not match up with every human being’s demeanor that I cross paths with, right? Boy that’s a mouthful of sanity trying to break free I think.

Tonight I am in that sort of lost mode of not being able to handle a situation with my drama program. Maybe I am going through the stages of grief. I have a student that clearly has challenged my authority that I have given many chances to take a new direction who simply refuses. I can easily account for their demeanor being angry and sullen in a meeting where I spoke only of the need to have positive and proactive members involved in our coming spring production. They are talented but there is no way I can possibly bring their negative energy into the production. That attitude will clearly sap everyone else’s ability to focus on the end product of producing a solid show.

So I am struggling, and trying to let go of my indecision to go forward with my instincts rather than cave into my spineless need to save everyone. After all that is what it is right? I remember when I first began teaching theatre I used to say to the kids every spring that next year I will come back with a rebuilt backbone. I guess I am still searching for that surgeon. In the meantime, the life of an addict in recovery continues with slow and cautious steps trying desperately to not lose my footing.

Our Lives Mirrored

funeral

***

We all have lives,

this cannot be argued

no matter the girth or the slight

however, the notoriety or discretion,

each idiosyncratic measure of

who we are

can only be truly defined

internally.

~

But, you knew that already,

that’s why last night downtown with the boys,

you made an ass of yourself,

went up to her and told her you thought,

she was a slut,

because just minutes later

you wagered with your inebriations

that you could score with the rudest commentary.

Why she smiled,

it turned you on,

you glanced back at your problems

hinting a forward motion.

When you looked back in her eyes,

her delight just made you swoon,

forgetting about that initial commentary

now recognizing she really is pure elegance…

~

Damned if she didn’t give you her number,

even I sitting nearby was disturbed by that.

You walked away smug,

she joined her girlfriend and you physically disappeared in her mind,

even though you could still see she was

maintaining her sort of human condition in the crowd.

The boys, the posse, the conquest moved

to the other tavern

where the sure thing had been told.

you crammed the napkin with her number in your tight jeans,

and forgot about her for the rest of the night,

because along came Jenni, Sarah, Michelle, and anon …

~

Laundry day,

sorting out pockets

where when unfolding the napkin,

Jill’s name appeared in a scrawl.

It took you a minute or two to recall

who she was.

Who she was.

Who she really was!

Then you dialed the number

to reach a disconnection,

blew her off and called her a ‘bitch’

for giving you the wrong number.

~

A few days later,

while stepping off the train

to go to work,

your normal morning routine,

there was a delay,

a procession of sorts,

they were all sort of familiar,

each wearing the same veils,

another typical gathering that occurred

nearby your building, in that park,

where families grieved,

never any reason to bear notice.

Though today

you wanted to glance further,

there was a familiar elegance,

that couldn’t really be defined,

some energy, that asked you,

refine your arrogance

just this one time.

~

Turns out she did give you the wrong number

a purposeful gesture for a woman protecting herself

from the constant barrage of harassment,

yet tonight when she went home,

she couldn’t get the word out of her head,

too mindful of four years earlier in college,

when the hot breath of that stranger

impelled her world forever,

leaving her cold and barren,

she knew tonight with your clarity,

she could never really let go.

~

Today there appeared so much love in that gathering.