rush
rush. rush. rush.
rush hour in the city.
trump tower's glistening above me.
harlem beckons and i come running.
traffic causing creeping progress
my stomach pains,
abdomen suffering stress
i am late again.
and we have barely passed 52nd.
roadside construction,
the true weapon of mass destruction.
avoided subway like the plague,
alas, i wish i hadn't.
city streets, the sea of yellow and black.
street traffic must be the Lord's purgatory.
no redemption found before me,
pray me into harlem's heaven
before my soul is lost forever.
Labels: home, poetry, traffic
baby
you are cruel to anyone who loves you,
you break the backs of those
whose shoulders you chose to rest,
squirm and throw a fit, pouty lips
run away, screaming
forget your mistakes,
you are still a babe, requiring
much attention, coddling and affection
give it a rest now, nap time
is a must to sooth moods,
deep sighs and obviously whines,
refusal to lie and keep quiet.
this changes nothing, our love
is far too indespensible, to see
this union as regretable,
birthed from unexpected stints of
passionate chemical reactions, conversion
from the lack of intimate transactions,
you changed everything, reaching into eternity,
this home will never be my own.
(for adeleigh)
Labels: baby, love, poetry
slow and sick
it has been 8 days since i've had this undefined cough and congestion. i'm definitely over being sick. i've been a mess this week; it's difficult for me to stay focused and on schedule with anything when i don't feel well. i am such a baby when i am sick. i want to be coddled, i want to be held. in my nature, i have a tendency to be the one caring for others, meeting needs and what not. but the tables turn when i am sick. i'm not sick very often; it's a surprise to me that i've been sick for this long. it's frustrating, in fact. there is so much that needs to be done. so many assignments due next week. yet i remain unrested and forced to slow the rhythm of my life down.
every night i will attempt to lay down to sleep. it only takes a few minutes until i'm hacking up slimy obscenities and feeling miserable. most mornings i somehow make it down from my loft bed without breaking my neck, i use the restroom, and i will sit on the couch and fall asleep sitting straight up. it helps that i've been getting up when it is still dark out - not because i want to, but because my body prompts it.
this morning was no different. i climbed down, used the restroom, sat on the couch, fell asleep. but somewhere in between sitting and climbing back into my loft, i remember someone whispering in my ear, "miriam, i want to pray for you." it was my roommate, amy. with one hand below my neck and the other on my back, she began to speak healing and life over my sick body. i have no clue what she prayed; i blame the huge dose of nyquill that i took last night (i still feel slightly drunk and incoherant). but i think about the culture of our apartment, and i can't help but smile. it's a culture of prayer and encouragement, love and grace, and a lot of laughter. there are ten of us total living in this single-floor, 5 bedroom, 2 bath beauty. it sounds cliche, but we are a family. i feel well taken care of here. it goes beyond someone bring me juice or putting an extra blanket on me when i'm sick. there are nights when caitie and i will pray over each other until one or both of us just falls asleep. it's a great way to go, try it sometime. don't get me wrong; there are times when i wished my roommates would all just go away and i could live on my own. and i know that i would absolutely love having my own bathroom and kitchen. yet i know that in the end, i would hate living by myself no matter how clean my place would be. it is freeing to have such confidence that you are not alone.
Labels: love, sickness, stillness
it's time
it's time to unwind the shriveled up rinds
covering up the essence of you and i
pulling back layers, the core of "us" decaying
we are two reeds swaying weak in the wind
let the games begin, olymipic-esque shouting match
bitter metaphor and hurt's synonyms we attach, meant to thrust
each vernacular blow attacking attachment, if we must
let us break our backs sprinting to an easy solution
one fireproof tactic to break down dissolution
clearing atmosphere in this room's air pollution
yet if truth prevailed and honesty persistent
the works of our hands and the words of our mouths
are so painfully inconsistent, bearing arms of pride
raising up resistence, prone to delusion
given over to emotional prostitution
brokenness and mistrust leading these kingdoms to war
and if we're being really honest, the only way to
settle the score is for one ruler to concede
sending armies into retreat, letting wounds
bleed over and heal, giving up rights,
sending word through ranks for official repeal
i am tired...
every resource of mine dried up, dehydrated into oblivion
more aware of my darkness within, patience growing paper thin
confusion swirling overhead, still unaware of my actual sin
i may show little remorse, my words may be coarse,
my voice may be hoarse, yet i am ready for change
my right to you i estrange, it's bad enough
that our love has more recorded wrongs that rights
our only hope is to step into the Light
(i miss the reflection of your bright eyes)
define the lines between you and i
it's time.
Labels: brokenness, humility, poetry
