This Is Not A Sad Story~

this is not a sad story~

it's just another human story~

as little bundles of pink skin wrapped in white fur we hold such potential~

along the way you might find yourself rolled in tall grass by wolves and tossed into wild flowers by horses with a questionable sense of humor~

some days you're eaten down like a Eucharist and passed around to men in fine suits with carnations in their lapels and myth justifications in their slitted pupils~

you hold the syringe for a dead boy knowing it's so wrong but doing it anyway~

you fall in love with an Indian who doesn't want the politically correct labels and is so good when he is good and so bad when he's WALKIN with Jimmy and a twist of lime~

you bury this one and that one~

you love again~

you feed a child at your breast~

you become ill and well again and fall in love and do it all over again~

my children fragments of me are never too far behind~

when I need a daisy she's there in her petticoats~

when I need reason she's there with apple blossom cheeks~

and when I'm on my knees crawling through the mess of me it's her hand that reaches past a stone fireplace to wrap me up in tapestries~

I have this reoccurring dream that I died when I was eight years old in front of THAT particular tapestry in his room and that this is all a dream and that when I die here I will wake up back there to do it all over again~

but this isn't a sad story~

it's just another human story of just another girl who had potential~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

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Reviews

[Brad]

not a sad story? then tell me why i have this lump the size of my heart in my throat and some sort of wetness wanting to leak from the corner of my eyes...

what became of this potential human brought forth strength and encouragement in others whom shared the same road...sometimes bumpier...sometimes smoother...but survival, and lessons are always the same...i for one, and glad that i am able to converse and share ideas with this potential human...beautiful as always S

[Bard Constantine]

This says to me that when we lose our way in the rubble of dreams that so easily crash and burn... we remember where we started. We remember the time when happiness was a day in the sun, and fear was a word without definition. Then we fight for that little child, that undying dream... and we keep going.

[Pax Analog]

Poignant soul-baring. I'm not sure "had" potential is right. We don't choose the events thrust upon us early on. The riveting psych reality of returning to the 8-yr.-old, feeling that everything that has occurred since then is a postmortem dream is an opportunity to rescue all the world's 8-yr.-olds, on the level of the morphic field at least. It seems to me our inner child is a part of our affective state of grace. While so much horror creates so much rage, and while we temper steel to do battle, there remains the untouched simplicity of the child before all hell broke loose. That simplicity is transparent to divinity. Divinity has no reasons, has no issues, no tragedies, no theologies. It IS core grace. That grace is undying. I'm not at all uncertain that the casual banalities of middle-class ease are that much better developmentally, because of the ironic disillusionment and grit grown by the traumatized. We commune w/our inner child of grace as one of the ways to recall origins. It is never too late to make a difference. And while all manner of absurdities and atrocities may plague our lives, the affective power of the inner child is guarded by a cognizing inner adult who knows that ALL of a mortal cycle, no matter how good or bad or indifferent is of the nature of a dream, a bardo. That was the Tibetan Buddhist Milarepa's observation, that it wasn't just standard postmortem spirit floating that was a bardo -- THIS is a bardo, an illusory transitional realm. Between the inner child and the adult witness, the grace that redeems is a singular condition untouched by worlds, provisional selves, anything at all.

Your personal fable is classic, and invites the presence of Buddha-Mind.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

I come to the table with my own history, my own jaded view of what this poem means. For me, personally, it speaks of innocence lost and innocence retained. It speaks of the little child with that, despite the passing of years, remains ever intact, broken at some point in time. It's our desire to love that child within with a love that we never received ourselves. It's that inner child, in turn, that nurtures us back. That child knows us better than anyone. We yearn to comfort and love and repair the broken heart of the child within, the broken dreams, the shattered what-if and what-could-have-been.

I rather fancy that we are all broken mirrors, held together by the glue of resilience and the strength to overcome. It's the cracks in the mirrors that fragments our lives; but it's through the cracks, that we also see the light.

Rich or poor, white or black, young or old ... none of us are untouched. I think we are all broken. Sad story or not, it is what it is.

Linda Marie

[FireWoman]

I love the formatting of this. On one end being simplistic & matter of factly stated, but so uniquely you. That girl not only had potential, she has surpassed most women's wildest dreams- to be triumphant & successful at whatever task is before you. A brilliant write!

[Maurice]

Excellent write, as always.

If it's worth anything, the Jewish belief is that if you dream of your own death, you will live a long life. So as much as that dream may have been frightening, there is something good in it.

[Ed Hart]

somehow we get to here, and that is the ongoing potential...and that, my dear sweet friend, was the price we paid, for this undying glory

[Robin]

this touches one on so many levels , hauntingly beautiful ...

[Kimber L]

This is such a deep and beautiful write. I can't even begin to express what I see throughout the layers within. There is so much intelligence and and sadness woven together but it manages to be realistic and hopeful at the same time.

[Dream Weaver]

What can I say but,
I love everything
about this write.
My favorite had to
be this;


you fall in love with an Indian who doesn't want the politically correct labels and is so good when he is good and so bad when he's WALKIN with Jimmy and a twist of lime~


Awesome writing as always Selene...

[deeps]

WOW! sad write. Had a dream you were going to die when you were eight years old. That is a horrible dream to have. Your emotions are well expressed through out this write.