for you (oil spills)

I'll paint a portrait of love and loss, memories and oil spills
Coarse beach sand between my toes, a heart like an ocean
The clouds rolled in and I exulted - rain! rain at last!
But when they opened, rain was not what descended
I thought you were pure water, but I was wrong
The black liquid of you pouring across bright memories
Your glutinous solution sunk deep, discolored what was pure
A dark stain across my waves that previously gleamed
You killed my wildlife- my dreaming birds and darting fishes
They died, and the corpses washed ashore to rest at my feet
Soft feathers coated with slick, and scales that do not shine
To clean you up- it took great effort and much expense
I purified my ocean of you, but part of you remains
Bits of black dissolved into the expanse of salted sea
The memories I cannot forget
You were an oil spill that disguised itself as rain
The ocean waves roll, and though I am clean,
The water still remembers you

Isn't it funny that the only time we truly feel our own pain
             is when we have no strength left to deal with it?

Or perhaps we only realize we're feeling it
             when we no longer have the strength to hold it back

Brain Dump: An Old Thought Brought Back To Light

For a year or two now, one of the things I've held pride in is the fact that I felt like I didn't need a relationship, because to me that means that when I enter into a relationship, it will be because I want it, and not out of hormonal drive or some need to feel validated. 

Yet in that year or two, I've slipped up. This week is one of those. Perhaps it's the heavier load of work and homework- I'm working probably twice as many hours, and have more complex homework, and still have to fill obligations to friends and roommates, because I don't want to lose those precious relationships. Is it, then, so out of place, for me to wish that I had someone there to put their arm around me and tell me  I'm doing fine? To just sit with me, do homework in the living room with me. Someone that I'm truly comfortable around. Is it wrong to want that?

It's an interesting sort of feeling, for me. For the past couple weeks, I haven't had any interest at all in a relationship, right up until about three days ago. I seriously didn't even think about it. I was too busy, anyway, with homework and classes and getting used to a new schedule. 

But that's not the main point that I wanted to write about. That's not the old thought that came up. The old thought was this: That all pain is valid. There is no point where emotional pain is so insignificant that it should be disregarded. There is greater pain, yes, but that doesn't make the lesser pain unworthy of care. My stupid desire for a hug, for company when I'm lonely, shouldn't be disregarded. Someone I know is dealing with having to quit their job because they'd been working there for six years and never even been offered a raise. That may seem like a small reason to some, but that doesn't mean that they don't deserve help and support. 

Big issues need help and support as well. Abuse, loss, depression; all need that outreached hand and that knowledge that they are loved and cared for. But I would just like to say that we, as humans, should not allow the severity of these issues to constantly and entirely obscure smaller ones. 

I've told the story before, how there was a time where I felt incredibly insecure and sad, and I went to a friend and she told me I was being stupid and needed to suck it up. I have another story, however, of the flip side of the coin. This happened not long ago- a friend of mine who is depressed had run off early that morning, and we were afraid he might try to hurt himself. When I found out, I started to panic. By then, the issue had mostly been addressed, but it was still a cause of worry. My thoughts spiraled down the worst possible path, projecting the worst future. At that point, I was aware I needed to not be by myself- this kind of reaction was only hurting me and wouldn't help anything. So I texted another friend of mine, asking if I could just come over and hang out because I needed the company of someone who knew what had happened. She immediately said yes, despite being in the middle of her German homework with another member of her class. I just sat and talked with them, and I think that helped most of all. That night we actually ended up getting together with a few other people and doing something for that person, so it turned out much better, even for the one that we were all worried about, I think. It could have been so much worse, but it wasn't, because we banded together to help each other

My point is this: help others, even in the small things. Only good can come of it. 

Love

Your palm is warm against mine, and your fingers keep mine from freezing

When I shiver suddenly in a breeze that's filled with snow

Residual warmth and weight- your coat- rests on my shoulders

Swing the door open, and it jingles, allowing the sounds of dinner to escape

You pull out my chair- my knees slip beneath a scarlet cloth

Later, we will skid and slide home on a brand-new white carpet

Then on a couch- green like your eyes and soft like your heart-

Your embrace will tighten around me. I will rest my head against your shoulder

Warmth is no longer confined to touching palms

We are two birds, resting beneath our wings for the winter

The warmth and glow from the fireplace illuminate us

It will guard us as heavy eyes slip down-down-down

Until dawn peeks through the window to rouse us

In case you're interested....this poem came from an assignment in Creative Writing. We were asked to describe ideas and words using sensory details.

Swimming

I remember the day when I first discovered
That allowing breath free from tightened lungs
Makes it possible to sink far below the surface

The world turned azure, and sounds muffled
Hearing is not so important anymore. I focus on
Roughness, the floor pressed against bare knees

My breath is gone, so it's but a moment, yet such stillness
A maze of legs, a labyrinth shifting every second. Bubbles like fog
Obscure sight, and navigation is impossible, but why move?

I am made of loose muscles and drifting limbs
In this moment, with chlorine on my tongue, that taste- to me
It means freedom. My mind drifts endlessly with the water

This instant is frantically still

And a moment later, bursting free of the water's claim
Breath returning to tighten empty lungs, and perhaps being tight
The tenseness, and emotion, is a part of being truly human