The Onion April 1, 2010

Long, long ago
While lost in my garden
A bit of white showed
Where the earth had hardened.

I picked at the dirt
And was surprised to find
An onion had grown there
Apparently mine.

Peeling the onion
Made me cry and hurt
So I buried it again
And ran from the earth.

But life follows a path
That seems to spiral and wind
And it leads me back to the garden
To my onion to find.

Many times when I’ve been there
I have felt so strong
And I’ve dug and I’ve peeled
Until I was sure it was gone.

But my garden must be perfect
For that onion to grow
Because every time I return there
It’s back in the hole.

And there’s the innermost layer
That always I see
The part I set aside
And just let it be.

What would happen
If I went down that path
And peeled apart the heart
Of that onion at last?

I think I just might die
Or at least that’s my fear
Maybe that keeps my onion
In my garden, near and dear.

Without the onion,
Who would I be?
My whole life out of whack
Or finally free?

The truth I don’t think
I ever will know
It sounds so impossible
To just make it go.

As much as it hurts
The prick, burn, and tears
I have held this onion
For all these years.

I’ll keep peeling the layers
A little at a time
But the heart of the onion
Wants to always be mine.

Sticking With Me March 30, 2010

In bed all alone
but not by myself
Evil spirits rise up
with cunning and stealth

The dark night hauls out
memories unbidden
to hold me tight for the ride
I have too many times ridden.

Hot tears rolling cold
into my ears
what I don’t want to see
and don’t want to hear

Stupid fucking tears
cried too many times
for too many years.

Stupid fucking hurt
I’d long since thought
was tapped into dirt

But you insist
on being my friend
sticking with me
until the end.

Like deep etched lines
on hands and face
miracle cures
cannot erase
the effects of the sun
or your hot embrace.

Mantras move my mouth
Despair can’t sink its teeth in
I am not a child.
I am not a victim.

I am powerful.
I am strong.
God help me be that
as I try to move along.

Bruises December 21, 2009

Bruises have a way

Of showing up on me
In places I don’t even
Expect them to be.
How do I get hurt
So easily
When I’m not even aware
At the time of injury?

Angry and tender
The purple spot flares
And somehow I keep
Getting hit right there.

Slowly, so slowly
The bruises fade.
Gone from my skin
But still seen from within.
On my heart they remain.
A multi-colored rainbow
Self-contained.

A promise beauty
Can come after pain.