wisdom white

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.

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.

beauty miss.

thinking on those two sweet faces that mumble nonsense & those four feet that stumble for parks make me swell. they're the bright spots too. they're ones that shatter my haze; at least they've got their bright heads on straight. it may just be a "you're crazy, aren't you?" or a wicked witch chant, but they make me remember that drops falling don't need to make me so serious.

& he's kind of like sunshine whenever my brain's cloudy. he kills all my muggy thoughts & lights up my darker greys. he always knows what to say when i'm drowning in storm; it's always just a simple "you're okay," or "you're a good person," but it still makes the rain break.

 i love all the ones that make me dance too, be it a living room meltdown or a hallow's eve mash. all those self-loathing aches fall off with a cupid shuffle or reggae romp. i may be white, but grooving with the good ones always makes me heal.

& her old apartment where we swam in the rain & sang our off-keys. instead of stopping the rain she soaked me in it, showing that rain itself carries light & there's nothing to be scared of. all these are the ones that remind me of what i'd forgot.

eyes peeled in  half moon make me love all those that my eyes haven't seen much. those nights full of them and their lessons make me see the beauty in missing. bless up to those that make me whole, & bless down to all those who have.

river remembers [three years and counting]

remember those months that i'd tear my body just so i could ache with the stream for you? i can still feel winter breathing its grief into my cracked lungs & water whispering icy sorrow into my harrowed ears.

remember that night i woke up & your toes left earth & those bed sheets took your soul? i can still hear the shrieks of my dream telling me you'd gone, & the crush of knowing your shine would be disappeared from that moment hung forever.

remember when we swung in summer night & you told me to seek love? i still taste your sweet words & how they shaped my days that followed.

remember when i would stare at your five feet & 8 inches from my four-foot-something & dream of when i could be just like you? i can still hear my clammorings for dinner-side seats to your absurd stories & tales to seek after.

some days i may not feel you, but i will always remember. i'm amazed by how sharp the memories are & how deep they still cut. my soul hasn't forgotten yours, & i'm still so grateful for the light yours gave mine. my steps are laced with you & the beauty you wrought. thank you for the days we shared, & for scarring the earth the way you did.

rest easy, dear aunt of mine.

[i'll love you forever, i'll like you for always, as long as i'm living, my baby you'll be] 

sun(flower).

i'm realizing that colorado's poisoned me with endless sun. all those rays have made me a junkie, & without pails of vitamin d, i start to wilt.

i lose my face & get lost in the world indoors. i forget what it means to be joy. that's why i think i might be a sunflower; i can only keep my head up in the daylight, otherwise my shoulders start to noose themselves. 

the sun lights my soul & shines the fifteen inches my scalps grown from root. it makes me remember all the steps i've taken along with these fifteen inches, and reminds me how far i've come. & i've never thought i could have done it without the sun, especially on the days i needed to screen that scalp of mine from nicarguan rays. i may have been white & bald, but at least my shoulders could still brown.

so i will keep finding the time to capture up the light we're given daily. at least that's way i won't get stuck with a face full of pavement.