they say that rain is the wisdom of oceans & clouds & rivers falling back to it's rightful place; i think snow is just wisdom that sticks.
snow makes us wise because it makes us see all the dark spots.
it makes everything stand out that doesn't fit, & makes the ugly uglier. that's why road trips in summer feel so much more free; you can't see all the sludge your sixty mph dredges on the earth.
all those flakes make new mountain faces, bearded and layered. it's funny how snowfall makes our world clean & new; wisdom gives fresh perspective.
wisdom is knowing when to be loud too. storms are loud because they bury your car & your plans & show you that you never really have to do much of anything. i think sometimes i'm too quiet; or maybe i'm too loud to shut up and listen.
i think winter's trying to tell me something.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Sunday, December 2, 2012
shadow secrets
i think winter's sneaking into my system, & it's full of shadow.
you know when you're trudging up a mountain and the shade's ten degrees less than the sun? it's funny how sometimes it weighs with all those thoughts you usually hide.
secrets always seem safer in the shadows.
the december still speaks to me the same way it would when colorado winter wasn't dead.
it says the things that my head buries to ignore, but sometimes they crawl out anyway. i've been drifting through those charcoal memories, the kind you're not quite sure happened just because you've tried to believe it for so long.
it'd be easier if they were just bad dreams.
but that's where the overcast mountain's been taking me, back down dark roads i'd rather shy.
it's funny how the past can steal from you if you let it. like how these ones are stealing my sleep & crowding my waking hours. it hurts that they still make me cower like when i was five & eight & nine & nineteen.
luckily the shadows today weren't so dark. he was there to make my mouth-corners look up sometimes. maybe the shade isn't big enough to grab me when i don't get swallowed up alone. maybe it's easier to choose sadness when it's just two feet instead of four. those books with my memories make me shake, i hope they'll keep their distance.
i hope the heavy shade will stay away too, i can't carry it's burden much farther.
you know when you're trudging up a mountain and the shade's ten degrees less than the sun? it's funny how sometimes it weighs with all those thoughts you usually hide.
secrets always seem safer in the shadows.
the december still speaks to me the same way it would when colorado winter wasn't dead.
it says the things that my head buries to ignore, but sometimes they crawl out anyway. i've been drifting through those charcoal memories, the kind you're not quite sure happened just because you've tried to believe it for so long.
it'd be easier if they were just bad dreams.
but that's where the overcast mountain's been taking me, back down dark roads i'd rather shy.
it's funny how the past can steal from you if you let it. like how these ones are stealing my sleep & crowding my waking hours. it hurts that they still make me cower like when i was five & eight & nine & nineteen.
luckily the shadows today weren't so dark. he was there to make my mouth-corners look up sometimes. maybe the shade isn't big enough to grab me when i don't get swallowed up alone. maybe it's easier to choose sadness when it's just two feet instead of four. those books with my memories make me shake, i hope they'll keep their distance.
i hope the heavy shade will stay away too, i can't carry it's burden much farther.
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