and still do

Years of feeling like less than a person
undeserving, unknowing
When would it be okay to let it go
to feel again, to be rid of you for good

I dreamt of your forgiveness
and yet I still stumbled
but something inside has changed
it didn’t come from you
and I make this vow to myself

NO MORE HOLDING BACK, THERE IS ONLY LOVE AND RISK

I’m ready – bring it on

And to the one who gave the pain so willingly: goodbye my friend
I forgive you

Didn’t expect to be here

Where do I go now

“Have you every seen how dirty the water is in there most of the time?” the birds would say. “It is disgusting! And all those damn squirrels coming around and causing ruckus around the watering hole – it is such a disaster. I hate those nutheads.”

Savvy and upscale birds knew where to find the good watering holes. They avoided parks and places where cars and many humans would gather. Instead they looked for large human nests, surrounded by fences and were lightly-treed so that there wouldn’t be so many other birds and other animals around. In those places, birds could find a sanctuary where they could drink, discuss the issues of the day, have a monopoly on food – the humans really are kind for setting out free food – and not have to be worried about sharing or that smaller humans or animals would wreak havoc while they relaxed.

Pip and Jerry were among those savvy birds. They met every Tuesday at a water hole in the backyard of a human named Warren Buffett and discussed life and how chirpy their wives had become.

But the watering hole visits had changed when Pip decided to leave his wife of seven migrations for a new life as a solitary man. This had caused a bit of strain on Pip and Jerry’s relationship as Jerry’s wife, Raven, didn’t want Jerry getting any ideas from Pip and leave her along with their eight children.

Jerry would still meet with Pip, but he would do so in secret, telling Raven that he was “volunteering at the elderly bird home.” He knew his wife didn’t believe him – Raven knew everything, and it scared Jerry to death – but Raven never confronted him on his lie.

This day the discussion was to revolve around a rumor Jerry had heard about how Pip had been spending his time recently.

“They talk about you, you know,” Jerry said in a sudden topic change from new developments discovered in birds who live on steady worm diets – it turns out the early bird who gets the worm is also getting Worm Flu more frequently than that late bird.

“What do you mean,” Pip said.

“The wives and other women. They talk about how crazy you have become and how much damage you are doing to the perception of the local bird society. They are all scared your going to move into their tree and bring down the property value and morally corrupt their hatchlings.”

“Let them think what they want to think. I’m at peace with where I am,” said Pip, who had a genuine look of peace about him and a slight smirk on his beak.

Jerry hesitated before speaking again.

“The latest thing they have been talking about… Well I don’t even know if I believe this story. I’m sure they are making it up.”

“What are they saying?”

“Well…” Jerry let out a sigh. “They say you are spending a lot of time hanging out in the middle of the turning lane on Southwest Trafficway, near the Nut Hut at Rotary Park.

“Yeah, I find it very peaceful and adventurous there.”

Jerry let out a laugh. “You’re kidding right? …Right?”

“No, I’m not kidding,” Pip said, maintaining his calm presence. “Humans make very interesting things to help them get around from nest to nest. Have you ever seen what the underneath of a car looks like? Very interesting.”

“Wait, these stories are true then?” Jerry said, so alarmed the at he knock some of his pile of seeds into the watering hole. “Dammit!”

“What’s so wrong with me hanging out at the Nut Hut and in the middle of the road?” Pip asked, more out of curiosity of what Jerry would say than being defensive about his free time habits.

“What’s wrong? What’d you mean what’s wrong?! You’re fucking crazy! How can you possibly risk your life like that hanging out with Nutheads and wondering through the middle of human traffic? You’re going to get yourself killed and I’m going to be forced to spend more time with my wife. You know she made me rebuild the nest for the third time this month? She is convinced the migration is going to be late this year and she wants to make sure the nest is sturdy enough to handle the extra time here even though half of the nest is inside a goddamn Wood Pecker hole. You know how many worms I had to get that guy to have him peck out a hole my wife apparently thinks is worthless? Its preposterous!”

“I hear you,” Pip said with a smile.

“Don’t change the subject you suicidal freak, what they hell are you doing? And what the hell is a ‘car’?”

“I’m exploring. How many creatures get the view I get every afternoon, sitting in the middle of the street and watching cars drive over me? And cars are those big, shiny things humans get into to get somewhere faster to compensate for their inability to fly.”

“Oh, those loud, obnoxious things that kill squirrels – God bless’em – are called cars. Can they fly, I’ve always wondered that?”

“No, not from what I can tell, anyway. They just roll really fast.”

“What the hell is the point of making something that doesn’t fly?”

“I don’t know, but it is fascinating. They have all these tree branch looking things that are harder than trees underneath them. Its interesting.”

“Not interesting enough to die for,” Jerry added.

“You’re so convinced I’m going to die.” Jerry couldn’t decide if this was a comment or a question so he moved on.

“Why can’t you just come back to the tree, make up with Betty, and return to reality? What good is hanging out in the middle of the road and hanging out with the Nutters going to do for you? Why do you have to keep making my life hell at home?

Pip’s smirk on his beak left him and he repositioned himself sideways on the edge of the watering hole so he could see Jerry eye-to-eye. “I don’t want to live in a tree anymore. I want to see the world, experience it. I don’t want to deal with all the other neighbors, and fighting over who’s worm hole is who’s, and telling Betty that I don’t want any hatchlings and that I want to spend our life together as a couple flying all over the world and discovering new things. I’m tired of living in a canope. I want to explore.”

Jerry sat for a moment and pondered.

“I just don’t get it,” Jerry finally sighed. “As annoying as Raven can be, I can’t imagine living anywhere else than the tree. Living near such a pleantiful supply of worms, bugs, limbs, twigs – it’s paradise there. The kids can be obnoxious, yes, but the other day Buster hovered for the first time and this sense of pride and joy came over me that I wouldn’t trade for the world. It would seem so foolish to leave something so safe for something so… unknown.

“I mean, what happens if you get the Worm Flu or losing a wing on the street or get trampled by a Numbnutter? Who’s going to take care of you? Where are you going to live? How are you going to be able to get enough worms to pay for everything?”

Pip’s smirk cameback and he looked out from his pirch towards the horizon above the fense.

“I don’t know what I’ll do,” Pip said, hiding his thoughts and dreams behind his eyes. Jerry could see that he was hiding something, but didn’t press him.

“Well, I hope you get run over by one of those ‘car’ things and die suddenly so that you don’t have to worry about any of that stuff,” Jerry said after a long silence.

Pip smiled. “Thanks, friend.”

“Well, I’ve got to go. Raven knows the elderly should be asleep by know. That woman knows everything.”

“Not everything,” Pip said. “Did you know the humans call the Empty-Feathers ‘Ravens’?”

“Wait, you mean the humans call those meat-headed, half-witted, little shits ‘Ravens’?” Pip nodded. “Ha! I can’t wait to tell Raven that, this is wonderful news!”

Jerry ate the last of his seeds and took a drink then came back up with a thought. “You know, maybe it is not such a good idea to tell here that.” Pip nodded and smiled. “I’ll just keep this one to myself. It’ll certainly make listening to her chip and about the damn nest a lot easier.”

And with that, they said their good-byes and flew their separate ways: Jerry flew off to his tree with a quick stop to pick up some twigs for the nest while Pip went to go settle in at his spot in the middle of the turning lane on Southwest Trafficway near the Nut Hut.

Struck by curiosity, the man bit into his treasure.  It tasted like cake stuffed with warm honey.  And when he swallowed, he felt the truth come alive inside him like pure oxygen filling his lungs.  His own breathing slowed and deepened, and he exhaled the sweetness of the honey all around him.  Contentment filled his soul, and he planned to sit there forever and taste the truth alone.

Soon, though, the treasure that was sweet inside his mouth began to sour in his stomach.  Hoping it would pass, he continued to fill himself but the longer he sat, the more the bitterness grew.  He wondered what kind of treasure tastes sweet to a man and then turns him bitter.  Sitting there, angry for believing in buried treasures, he decided to leave after filling his pockets with all the treasure he could carry.  If he could not enjoy it himself, he would at least profit by selling it to some unsuspecting strangers.

Wandering through the desert again, he found a group of weary travelers and offered them a free sample.  He did not expect the insistent and warm hospitality of these nomadic wanderers, who would not eat without him.  The man did not look forward to walking alone with another sour stomach, but at least his pockets would be full of money instead of this worthless treasure.  So together, they ate, and the travelers closed their eyes and made deep, warm sounds as they slowly chewed.  Honey filled their stomachs, and then their hearts and minds.  Content to pay any price, they gathered all their money and exchanged it for the remaining treasure.

With a quick half-smile, the man rushed off in no particular direction.  As he rambled across the desert, counting his money, he noticed that his stomach did not turn sour.  Making its way through him, the sharp sense of truth he had felt before now mixed with the warm affection the travelers had shown him.  The money lost its luster and became a heavy burden in his hands.  He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the travelers, shoved it into his pockets and ran back through his own footprints.

He found them in the dark, guided by their laughter in the night.  I have made a mistake, he said, and I need to buy this treasure back from you.  Will you please accept your money back?  He held the bag of thirty coins for them to see.

For hours or maybe only minutes, the entire desert was silent as the travelers contemplated the man and the money.  Finally, one of the travelers reached for the bag, dumped the coins into his right hand and hurled them into the darkness of the desert.

Now, facing the man, he spoke softly and surely.  Go back to where you heard the voice and found your treasure.  We will wait here, for the rest of our lives if necessary, for you to return and share what you have found again.  For that which is meant to be shared always goes bad when consumed alone.

And so the man’s eyes lit up like lights behind his misty tears, and he ran to where he’d heard the voice and found his buried treasure.  By now, the wind had blown and the sand concealed the truth again.  But he thought of the wanderers waiting and of the sweetness they would share together, and he dug from his knees, day after day, week after week, until he reached his treasure again.

He saw there would always be enough for him, his new friends, and all the weary travelers in the wilderness.

For the rest of his life, the man wandered back and forth between his treasure and the desert wanderers.  Sometimes he dug for months to find his treasure, and other times, it lay just below the surface wanting to be found.  In the beginning, he dug anxiously, desperately trying to unearth the treasure.  But over time, he came to love the digging, too.  He was happy just knowing there was a treasure always waiting to be found, and travelers to share it with.

*   *   *

Teacher, tell us what this story means, the students said to the wise sage they had gathered around.

Well, she said through misty chestnut eyes set deep inside her face, the treasure is the gift buried inside each of you.  The rest you will have to discover on your own.

What do you mean?  Why won’t you explain the rest of the story to us?

Because if I tell you everything there is to know about the treasure, you will mistake the story for the treasure, and you would never dig for the treasure itself.  For that, you will have to enter into the desert and listen for the voice yourself.

At this, all but three of the students walked away, searching for more practical teachers.

“I forgave you long ago, now how do I forgive myself?”

In the days, weeks and even months that followed the tragedy that took David’s life, Samantha replayed over and over again the sequence of events.  That David was guilty was never in doubt; that she herself was responsible was also obvious.  Over time, she had learned how to forgive him, but her own guilt and shame wouldn’t allow her to forgive herself.  Even now, more than twenty years later, she was still haunted by the same question.  When would it ever be enough?

David was a hurricane force in Samantha’s life.  Meeting two weeks after she moved to town.  The party.  The beer.  The dark room.  And then the begging.  The screaming that went unheard by anyone else.  Thinking about it all again now sent a cold shiver down her spine.  That first day of school, surrounded by seniors because of her late enrollment, she never anticipated she would be required to see him every single day.  And then there was the end of the school year.  Why did she listen to Sean that night when he asked her to go with him to David’s house to pick something up?  Why didn’t she just tell Sean to drop her at home first.  He may have been like a big brother, but she had never told him what happened, so how was he to know?

When Sam realized exactly how much Sean did know, and his purpose behind taking her there, she wanted to run screaming from the house, but instead she stayed to hear David out.  What came next wouldn’t have surprised her any more than if he had proposed marriage.  A heartfelt apology.  A request for forgiveness.  A speech about doing things differently.  A question about the future.  At first she wondered what could have happened to change him so drastically, then she found herself saying only one thing.

“Prove to me you’ve changed.”

Her head began screaming immediately at words that could only have come from another place.  There’s no way she would logically ever make that statement.  Her mind remembered all too well the pain over the last ten months.  Her heart seemed to have forgotten all of it, or at least forgiven.  Against her better judgement, she listened to her heart.

Two years later, after a couple of false starts and more than a couple fights, they were still dating.  Sam was just starting college; David was halfway through.  So far, David had been true to his word.  He was different.  In Sam’s eyes, he couldn’t have turned out any more perfect.  Attentive.  Liked taking her out.  Loved to show her off to his friends.  Just a small hint of jealousy that in her mind signaled his love for her.  Her heart was still leading the show, but only because she had learned to block out the persistent screaming inside her brain.

Their friends could all see the truth.  David’s jealousy was an insecurity streak a mile long.  What she found endearing, everyone else found to be a sign of trouble ahead.  When David’s facade broke, only Sam was surprised.  Shocked.  Grieved.  Devastated.  Her mind had been silenced for so long that when she snapped, it was deep and immediate.  After all the pain her heart, soul and body had been subjected to, it was something trivial that finally broke her.  Trivial in comparison to the violation of their first introduction, but maybe she had used up all her forgiveness.

As she approached the curve in the road and the wall of rock next to it, all she could hear in her head were his last words.  Accusing her of terrible things.  Calling her horrible names.  Whore.  Slut.  Worthless.  And then the little voice inside that whispered,

“You’ll survive.”

Dougley has an aversion to cottage cheese, and in the hospital it is served with every meal. He won’t sit at the same table with anyone who has “that white shit” on their tray. Muriel holds a red velvet journal tucked under her arm at all times. Muriel always stares at Dougley, and when they do speak, he is always kind. Muriel seeks him out on the days they had group exercises. They mock people and are disruptive together. On the day Dougley is deemed ready to be re-released into society, he scrawls his name and phone number into the back page of Muriel’s journal. He says nothing as he does this and slides the journal back to her and leaves the cafeteria. Two days before Muriel’s 16^th birthday she is released. At home in her closet where she conducts all important business, she dials Dougley’s number. A woman answers. When Muriel asks to speak to Dougley, the woman informs Muriel that he has killed himself two days after being released. Muriel never tells anyone about Dougley.

Family

On a Sunday evening Muriel mentions graduation and looking for a place to live. She talks of apartments she’s found and areas she is fond of. Muriel’s brother scoots away from the table abruptly and goes to his room. The family hears footsteps above them and his door shut moments later. After dinner Muriel enters his room and finds him lying on his bed, cheeks flushed and glossy from tears. “Why are you crying?” Muriel asks. She stands before him, yet his face screams of loss. “I don’t want you to leave,” he says softly.

Stupid Bitches

 “I like your shirt. Where did you get it?”  In this situation, the only option is to lie.  “It’s from The Gap.” Muriel says. The girl doesn’t look impressed; her pursed lips frame a doubtful face. She looks back to the crowd of girls who have formed behind Muriel. “She SAYS it’s from THE GAP….” The girl says to the spectators. There are laughs and Muriel feels her tater tot and chicken nugget lunch dance in her gut. Courtney reaches behind Muriel and lifts her tag. “It’s not from The Gap. It’s from Wal Mart or something. You are such a liar Muriel.” Courtney walks away and Muriel doesn’t go to class. She instead goes to the bathroom where she sticks a finger down her throat to induce vomiting.

Overheard

Muriel is a young girl in the bathtub and we can hear her splish splashing amongst the bubbles and foam toys. Her hair stands on end, constructed by suds. She sings: “doo wa diddy diddy dum diddy doo!” As loud as she can until her smiling mother raps on the door to quiet her down.

 Self-analysis

For awhile there is something brave about Muriel. She is unafraid of opinions. She holds hands with her mother in the mall, and refers to her mother as her very best friend. She only wears make up on special occasions. Now she is painted up and posing when no one is taking her picture.

Revenge

 “This just isn’t working out. I can’t be with you anymore.” He hangs up and leaves Muriel with an open mouth and bloodshot eyes. To cheer her up, her friends take her out that night. They have a friend buy the booze and they party in the garage of a house nearby. That night Muriel leaves the party drunk, and takes a baseball bat to his truck. She smashes out the taillights and dents the doors and fender. The darkness conceals her smile as well as her crime.

Guilt

Muriel walks into her mother’s room without knocking. Her mother quickly gathers her robe, sniffles, and turns her face from view. “What’s wrong?” Muriel asks. “Nothing. I mean, I guess I am just not happy with the way I look.” “You look great mom, but if you’re that worried about it, come to the gym with me. We can do some crunches together.” To which Muriel’s mother says: “I can’t lose weight around my stomach. The muscles never healed after the C-section I had with you. The doctor severed some nerves and I have no feeling below my belly button.”

The first love

He is cool and handsome and Muriel thinks he is too good for her. In fact, this is the very insecurity that leads him to break up with her. When he tells her she is pretty, which he often does, she disagrees. He gets fed up and assures Muriel that she is beautiful for the very last time before he drives away in his blue pickup truck. He had drawn her pictures of a lighthouse on a rocky coast. He had promised her, as he handed over the picture, that he would build her a lighthouse one day and they would live there together. When she recalls the picture, it makes her cry. He graduates college with a degree in architecture and he marries in the spring when the grass is wet.

Shame

Muriel is having sex with her ex boyfriend. One night in particular Muriel is lying in bed in the dark, listening as he dresses himself. He says to her: “You know this isn’t a big deal right?” Despite the darkness she turns her face towards the wall and slams her eyes shut. The sex stopped, but not on account of Muriel. He got sick of having to lie, and Muriel had gotten clingy.

Definition

Muriel is leafing through her red velvet diary. She takes it to the windowsill and props it up on a pillow. She leafs through the pages and comes to a sick realization. Every page, a different guy. A different “love.” When had she come to define herself by the person she was dating? The timeline in her journal bore names and bad memories.  Her strong, independent mother had raised a girl who needed a boy. She is disgusted and hides the journal under the mattress.

God

Muriel’s soul is unsettled. She doesn’t fit in anywhere, anymore. One night while at her boyfriend’s house, she is stoned out of her mind and looks around the living room. Nothing seems familiar and for the first time ever she truly feels the presence of something spiritual. She feels unclean there. Not sure if this is the God she has heard so much about, she gets out of the recliner and never goes back.

A Fantasy

Muriel has a fantasy. She wants a house with mirrors she won’t purposefully avoid. She aches to believe in the good things. She wants to believe love is something she deserves. She wants to believe love is something she can keep. Now Muriel will wait.

“Ponticake” she responded.

“Onomatopoeia” again he spoke smoothly and direct.

“Onammmpia” she responded.

Arduous, Massachusetts , calibration, ecclesiastes, formaldehyde, proctology, multitude became, ardiass, maskerchoochoo, cabibrabra, keyezax, maldahyde, pocktology, mulmatude. After 20 or so, his mind was running thin. The room was giggling and the doe eyed child was eager to please.

He couldn’t help but marvel at her laugh as she spoke each word with the innocence only a child could maintain, all the while having no clue why the room was laughing or what any of the words meant.

More! More! She screamed that shrill excited voice that kids get. He searched the insides of his brain, looking for the end all be all word. It would have to be something that would make her cock her head to the side and deliver that perplexing look that one could only laugh at.

At this point, her mother and father and the rest of the room sat in a terse silence, waiting to hear how this game would end, while at the same time occasionally turning their attention towards something else.

“Antidisestablishmentarianism” he sprawled from his lips.

She laughed a phony laugh. Had his game suddenly became an insult to her?

Her frustration was evident. Play time was over. She didn’t repeat the word, her mouth only turned down to a frown. She bounced off his knee and landed on the floor on all fours. She tilted her head towards him and in a serious tone let out a “bark” and rubbed her nose into the carpet.

He smiled and returned the “bark” as she shuffled off in character.

Songs Used (But Not Necessarily In This Order)

Mumford and Sons: Sigh No More; The Cave; Thistle and Weeds; Little Lion Man; I Gave You All; After the Storm

Coldplay: Politik

Sia: Lullaby

Florence and the Machine: What the Water Gave Me

**********************************************************************

(Son)                                          (Dark)                                            (Light)

Son,

Don’t wish upon a star…

…Just do my work,

Don’t go too far.

Son,

Don’t wish upon a star,

Lose the map…

…Here, I are.

Son,

Don’t hope upon a wave…

…It’s a dying wish

Before the grave.

Son,

Don’t hope upon a wave…

…For the souls

I will fail to save.

Son,

Send your questions to the wind…

…Because it’s hard

to know if

I’ll begin.

Son,

Send your questions to the wind…

…Wait alone

Without a friend.

Son,

Place your life into a book,

Put in everything you ever took.

I’ll

Burn the pages,

Let them cook.

You may stand tall

But you will fall

And fail to break the spell

Of a life spent trying to do well.

Son…

I will fall

And break the spell

Of a life spent trying to do well.

Son,

Don’t wish upon a star.

*****

*****

You ripped life from my hands,

You swore it was all gone.

You ripped out all I had

Just to say that You’d won.

Well, now You’ve won.

You’ve won!

But I gave you all.

Weep for yourself, Son,

You’ll never be what is in your heart.

Weep for yourself, Son,

You’re not as brave as you were at the start.

Rate yourself and rake yourself,

Take all the courage you have left

And waste it on fixing all the problems

You’ve found in your own head.

It’s not your fault, but mine.

And it was your heart on the line.

I really fucked it up this time,

Didn’t I?

Tremble for yourself, Son,

You’ve seen this all before.

Tremble for yourself, Son,

You’ll never settle any of your scores.

Your boldness stands alone among the wreck.

It’s not your fault, but mine.

And it was your heart on the line.

I really fucked it up this time,

Didn’t I?

Spare me your judgments

Spare me your dreams

‘Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams.

I sit alone in this winter clarity

It clouds my mind.

Alone in the wind and the rain He left you.

It’s getting dark,

Too dark to see.

I’m on my knees –

And your faith is in shreds,

It seems.

I was corrupted by

The simple sniff of life

One unknown.

Even I have felt much more

Love

Than He’s shown.

I’m on my knees –

And the water creeps to your chest.

Plant your hope

With good seeds.

Cover yourself with

Thistle and Weeds.

Rain falls down on me…

Look over your hills

And be still.

The sky above,

He shoots to kill.

I begged you to hear me,

There’s more to this bag of

Flesh and Bones.

Let the dead

Bury the dead,

They will come out in droves.

So take the spade from his hands

And fill in the holes You’ve made!

Plant your hope

With good seeds.

Cover yourself with

Thistle and Weeds.

The rain, it drowns me.

Night has always

Pushed up day.

You must know

Life to see decay.

But I won’t rot.

Not this mind,

Not this heart.

Then let me take

You by the hand, Son.

Lets stand tall and remember the land you lived for.

He’ll say there’s a time without tears.

But His love will break your heart,

And heighten your fears.

Rain falls down on me…

But I will hold on to hope.

(Laughter.)

Climb His hill with fear in your heart

And doubt in your mind.

You can cling to what you think you know, Son,

But I saw what was true.

But that’s why I hold on.

If not, I will die alone

And be left there.

So I might as well go.

Death is just so full,

and my life so small.

I’m scared of what is behind

and what is before.

I warn you, Son,

He’ll say there’s a time without tears.

But love will break your heart,

Heighten your fears.

Climb His hill and

You will find fear in your heart,

Doubt in your mind.

There will come a time with no more tears.

And love will not break your heart,

But dismiss your fears.

Get over this hill and see what you find here.

Walk,

Find grace in your heart

And you’ll sigh no more.

Walk with one foot in the sea and one on shore.

My heart is never sure…

I know you.

I know you.

His love will betray you,

Dismay and enslave you.

My love will set you free.

Be more like the man

You were made to be.

There is a design,

An alignment against you.

My heart you see –

The beauty of love –

It won’t be.

How fickle my heart,

How woozy my eyes.

I struggle know

Truth from Lies.

And now…

My heart tumbles on things I don’t know.

This weakness, I feel, will finally show.

Lend me your hand,

We’ll conquer them all.

But lend Him your heart

And He’ll just let you fall.

Lend me your eyes,

I’ll change what you see.

But your soul,

He won’t take for free.

Just give me

Love over…

This.

I can’t promise you I won’t let you down.

I can’t promise you I will be the only one around…

…When your hope

Falls down.

I can’t take the burden of both of you.

It is all so fast,

Casting a spell I cannot break.

At every turn the water will run away from

Me and never fill the hole where I despair.

What if I’m wrong?

Hold on to what you believe

In the light

When Darkness has robbed you of all your sight.

Hold on to hope.

Then lay me down

And let the water flow.

And let the only sound be the overflow.