It's been a rocky first month for me this year. I keep trying and feeling like I'm not doing as much as I want to. But I've been feeling sick off and on every since Christmas. That or one of my kids (or more then one) is sick. I feel like over the last couple days, being incredibly sick again, I've sort of given up. I'm throwing in the towel.
At least until I feel like I can get my life back from these germs.
Sometimes I wish I could find a friend who's my twin who wouldn't make me feel guilty if they came over and cleaned my house for me or watched my kids for me. I'd do it for her, ya know.
I've got such a short fuse when I'm sick. Probably a good thing that I'm so hoarse that I sound like a bird when I try to yell. Since I'm trying to yell more often and so suddenly without much cause. Whisper? Yeah...don't remind me.
Yesterday I woke up kind of hazy. (Surprising when I have a sinus headache? No.) Through the hazy it was a dreamy way to wake up and I found myself having poetic thoughts. I have to say, I think somewhere in my subconscious the origination of this idea is somewhere linked with this blog post, since it resonated with me so deeply. Honestly, that post is probably a million times better then mine will be. Mine is quite weird, actually, but bare with me. If you don't like it, just go back over to her link and read her post again. Yeah. It's that good.
So in my dreamy poetic haziness yesterday morning, I grabbed a pen to write some of it down on my notebook. Many of my best poems can be born this way. This one was quite scattered so I've needed to do some organizing from the first segments of that morning. I don't exactly know what to do with it. Prose poetry? Poetry? I don't know, but I thought I'd record it nonetheless. Work in progress.
Catching Raindrops, Raining Upward
I'm placed on this space,
bucket in my hands.
Memories gone, purpose unknown,
I begin walking
and the rain begins falling.
The urge bursts inside,
a pitted cherry for a heart,
and I am catching droplets.
I splash into trillions, scattering.
The raindrops keep falling
and I cannot catch them all.
I cannot catch them all.
I cannot catch them.
And I am soaked.
Hair damp, clothes
wet, heavy hanging
Rubber legs pull
shoes slosh and slow
Weight shifts, and my hair hangs high
droplets creeping up my back
up and off my hair's tips above me
My stories climb the back of my throat
as dew collides and
I cry as failures fly
and I find I am coming dry
from the drips but
clinging, a painful escape
but I am inadvertently
Once they are gone, I am
All for the drops in my bucket.
They are an anvil
pulling at my arm,
I drop it to the ground
and they are golden.
Golden droplets rise from within
drop by drop, a translucence yields
A hug I gave a child.
A spill I cleaned from the floor.
A smile I gave a stranger.
The cookies I left at her door.
A meal I gave the needy.
A blanket I gave the cold.
A kiss I placed on his cheek.
A friendship to a lonesome old.
An hour I spent to listen.
A dollar I spent to give.
A gift from the heart to another.
A hope for ones will to live.
The drops kept on rising
joy-filled beauty inside
spilling over onto my face
in weightless tears.
And a voice from the light around me stated
"You did the best you could, my child. Every drop counts."