A Poem from Me and Maria

It's been a minute....sorry. Annnnnd I still don't really feel like saying anything at all. Mostly I'm not quite energetic enough to tackle all my thoughts and place them before you like neatly folded laundry. If I threw it at you now, you would be lost in translation and frankly so would I. BUT I wanted to drop in and give you a poem I've been in and out of. It's true what they say tho..."a poem is never finished, just abandoned." Especially with this piece for me, every time I read it, a change something. I just had to face the realization that this poem will never feel complete to me. I do really like it though because it's me being brutally honest and open about the things I would never come out and openly admit or say....but poetry...*smiles* it has a way of sorting those kinds of things out now doesn't it. I also thought maybe you would enjoy this poem that I fell in love with. It was in a collection of poetry and of course for me, it was the most memorable, touching, daunting, emotional one I came across sooooo.....

My poem Naked....


Naked
I’ve been obscene for days
Twisted up in my own nakedness
Looking down at the darkness spilling over me
As my limbs remain out of place
I sit
Cracked and proud
Then shattering into a complete picture
Hanging on to broken bones
Like a perfect breakable piece
With desperation
I bleed
Like an overthrown queen
A timeless victim
Eyes wide open
Because death saw first
And still
Though lifeless
I wait for you
Haunted and unwilling
I remain
A hundred moans that sound the same
Coded in screams like murdered murmurs
I choke from my own blood
Babbling its rustic wine
Swallowing drops of bitter blindness                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         
To stay alive
Waiting for you
Pleading my last moments of light
Like a second of hope
Straining for you
To see me
Waiting for you
To save me from my own self shame
That I exist in ruins
But look at me
With eyes similar to Gods
And proclaim me not
Damaged
But adorn me in pearls
And declare me still
Beautifully born
As I die
So that I could prove
Love did not




One Life
BY MARIA HUMMEL
I don’t know when I stopped believing in heaven,
or if I do. Maybe I just stopped receiving heaven.

The sun rose. I climbed into the pines’ brittle
crowns. You could say I was retrieving heaven.

Not a place or a time, but blindness to everything
but one light, pulsing, pleasing: heaven.

We married in September. Everyone was still
wearing their summer shirts, sleeves of heaven.

It was white, there was a bend, and the car
spun. It was then I prayed, pleading with heaven.

When he goes limp, lie him down on the gurney,
Mom. Oxygen mask, breathing heaven.

The hospital shines, our son flies in and out.
The snow falls hard, relieving heaven.

He loves the colors of planets. I teach him
their lifelessness: beautiful, deceiving heaven.

I don’t know who is buried beneath me
but I hear her break as I am leaving heaven.

How can you cry for one ruined life, Maria,
when you could be grieving for heaven?