Fabric of My Mind

11/30/2020

 

The building blocks of me.                            

String me along. 

Journaling, 

For me

Something to go back to 

Re read, re visit, my mind      then

To remember all the pieces

String along

Weave together the fabric of my mind

To craft me

Connect me

Integrate

Putting the puzzle pieces together

Connections 

 

Puzzles with Grandma [Liz]

 

Ceramic Mask

 

You are 16 going on 17                      - Wish I had met you when I was 17

 

After I learned to set my own boundaries

Not to sacrifice standards for peace

I think I could’ve taken more care

of me.

​

​

He confidently made his first smoothie

A Winter Day in 2020

 

My brother

Made a fruit oat smoothie

For the first time

confident

And sure

 

Comfortable, he asked my like.

He shared. He is kind.

It was good

How does one find confidence for new things?

Where does fear of failure, imperfections, come from?

To not do everything well immediately.

Where does that fear come from?

I, It

Has robbed me

The joy of

Living.

 

But imperfections are beautiful

Silly,

Substance for stories:

I need to practice my imperfect-ing

 

Have I missed the point?

There, I have again

 

How beautifully easy being imperfect being now feels

From time to time

Sometimes.

My growth.

 

His first-time-smoothie confidence

Amazes me.

 

 

On being a girl or my own man: A collection

12/22/20, 12/24/20

 

I. 

I lost a good

man

And it broke my heart.

So I grew

one on my 

legs. 

 

I didn’t pack my 

razor. 

I didn’t 

realize

how long 

I’d be

here.

Heartbreak. 

How you 

cut

linger

grow

into new. 

 

II.

I am teaching 

Myself

How to stand

Sturdy 

Too. 

 

I’ll make a

Man out

Of you

Yet. 

 

Man: strong, sturdy, independent, confident, undaunted, smooth, steady, sure. 

 

III.

I have never wanted to be a man

But when I was little

I did not want to be a girl

Or any other

such embarrassing word. 

​

​

Reading Poems About Another's “You”

2021

 

I’ve always shied away from referring 

to others in poetry;

they too are free members of this relational 

consumer society.

What if they find my art?

Won’t they recognize my memories?

They did help me weave them after all.

 

Or maybe they won't? Maybe the moment 

fell behind the couch

into the dusty crevice 

of un-missed coins and stale candy

or was tossed into a shoebox

with other momentarily sentimental souvenirs

of life no longer 

lived now, 

only to become 

so distant and so long untouched

that only long since time has passed

will you open the shoebox as you

clear out your garage,

only to find some stray unmatching

pieces 

that appear unfamiliar now

Why are these here? Should have recycled them 

long ago, how silly to be storing 

          such somethings. 

 

So maybe they won't remember my memories. 

maybe at most  

a familiar feeling

“I get that”

“I know that that's like”

“I've had similar times”

but not connect the two as one

the same taste

but not realize 

it is from the same meal, the same plate. 

I did cook you dinner once. 

 

But maybe they will remember.

Will they have grown since then?

How has their copy changed, warped, revealed?

Will they recognize, and then 

move on back to their lives?

or will it cause a shift

in their paradigm?

(how impactful or significant 

am I, to you?

 I am not offended if I

am a dusty coin or

forgotten souvenir

seen, tossed, recycled, and forever

forgotten for good

this time.

I honestly find that strangely beautiful.)

            Will they reach out?

Will I want them to? Will I respond?

A time machine returning the 

sentiment to the souvenir

rather, a souvenir no more; back to this current living

weaving their thread once

more into the fabric of my life. 

A regression, or a beautiful pattern? 

Fate? Or a mistake? (are mistakes, fate?)

 

Can I withstand it, either way?

Maybe they’ll never come to find these pieces of me.

Maybe these illustrations will speak to someone

who hasn't seen these scenes before. 

 

So I will serve my memories to you, and not

Hide that I too, as hu-man, wo-man, am inevitably relational towards you. 

For is that not what poetry is meant to do, any who?

 

To share one's self in honesty so that

daughters across the sea or over rivers

times and times away might find

and feel comings of their own birthing pains

to resonate with their awakening souls

“We too have gone through this before”

“From death, springs life, 

and such are there ups and downs”

“May my memories maybe save you

the sting I felt from

realizing          once long overdue”

No. 

I know. 

Hear this, but only

experience will teach you. 

Still, have this, 

maybe it can help hold you

like the earth; soil, as you plant

your pained deceased, 

and let grow. 

 

 

 

My mom was alone

1/15/21

 

When Grandma Alice died,

my mother and I sat

next to her body, and

watched her soul in the clouds

soar up into the blue sunlit sky

 

Dad was in the lobby; 3 years pre divorce

and my uncle a state away

and my mom cried;

I am alone in the world

 

Yet we smiled as we cried, the two of us, together,

watching Grandma’s soul

soar free,         finally

 

I pray, that I won’t be so alone,

The day when my mom flies free into the sky,

to be a Jorja Smith Goodbye,

 

They’re never coming back down

They belong to the stars and the clouds

 

But I know my mom will live forever with me,

it is because

I love her, you see

 

And her love and words will always carry me

​

 

 

 

To recognize creation and you

1/22/21

 

Barukh ata adonai eloheinu melekh ha olam, oseh ma-aseh v’reishit.

 

Blessed are you adonai, our God, sovereign of the universe, maker of all creation.

 

Traditionally it may be said that you should only say this blessing once, and only to repeat it if you see something more beautiful; to say only at the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.

 

But I have my own faith,

My own relationship with God, and with the tradition.

 

I’ve found in my own experience, that being truly recognized by others

To be seen, and have that recognition directly verbalized back to you,

Even for obvious or known or simple things

Can be so profoundly moving in the heart.

So as I appreciate the feeling of being recognized,

I try to recognize those around me, too.

To be intentional about directly verbalizing appreciation and understanding.

And for me, God is not excluded from that.

 

All of creation has its own unique majesty,

And is worthy of praise.

Of course, there's always harm in excess.

But when my heart falls into awe and gratitude

For the sight of creation before me,

I want to recognize that.

 

Brukhah at yah, eloheinu, ruakh ha olam, osah ma-aseh v’reishit.

 

Amen.

 

 

The snow fell straight today - bear witness

1/28/21

 

In the quiet of the morning, is where I find pieces

of peace and calm - loneliness comes with the quiet of the night.

 

The snow fell straight today

Like heavy slow-motion rain on a windless day

I wish I could shed my pains

As non-impactfully as these clouds.

Though I guess even in quiet

Clouds coat the earth, and we all bear witness.

 

To bear witness.

 

Maybe to shed pain means to let someone

bear witness to it.

 

 

How it happened to me

2/14/21

 

For you;

Always.

For me;

Too soon.

I waited. I delayed. Not yet.

Then.

 

First. 

From you;

Caring.

From me;

Excitement.

Intimacy is sweet. 

 

Consistently.

For you;

Always.

For me;

Not at all.

 

Then.

For you;

Wanting.

For me;

Not.

 

But you held delayed against me.

 

So then.

-

Consistently.

For you;

Always.

For me;

Not at all.

-

Then.

For you;

Wanting.

For me;

Not.

 

Then. 

From you;

asking.

From me;

No.

 

But you kept asking.

 

So.

Again.

-

Consistently.

For you;

Always.

For me;

Not at all.

-

Then.

For you;

Wanting.

For me;

Not.

 

My stomach churned.

I said 

 

No.

Again.

Consistently.

 

So.

You turned to stone.

You held delayed against me.

I made you wait so.

So.

S

Oh

Long.

Only

To now 

Allow you

Mere rarelys.

 

How shameful.

 

You let me

Wait

Before. 

How

Good-

Of you.

 

I deny

Now.

How

Bad-

Of me. 

What will your friends think?

 

So. 

You turned 

Not to stone 

But from me

 

Into 

Cold quiet daggers 

That glared with glazed eyes

That wouldn’t meet mine. 

-

Consistently.

For you;

Always.

For me;

Not at all.

Ignoring me. 

Because

-

Then.

For you;

Wanting.

For me;

Not.

I was the bad one. Keeping

From you

Caring;

Because i said no.

No meant i didn’t care since i kept

What you waited for for so long

From you now.

And that was

Wrong.

Apparently.

 

How shameful

Of me.

 

My stomach churned.

But you kept asking.

So.

Again.

-

Then.

For you;

Wanting.

For me;

Not.

 

From you;

Asking.

From me;

…

 

So.

Again.

-

Then.

For you;

Wanting.

For me;

Not.

 

Again.

-

Consistently.

For you;

Always.

For me;

Not at all.

 

Then

Again;

…

Then

Again;

…

Then 

Again;

 

          easier

Than your

Cold quiet daggers

And

Voice

Coated in thick-

flat oil-spill hate

For me.

 

 

 

Passivity - goodbye

2/2/21

 

Passivity - goodbye.

I am clearing you out of all my crevices.

You have no place in my vessel, no more.

 

In clearing you out, I am making room for me.

Taking up all the Sarah space in the world

making my mothers words my living way.

 

 

 

Mom’s correction: re-framing into spirals

3/1/21

 

Not a regression day

But up

Another rung

In the spiral

That is life’s growth

And movement

 

 

No man is an island

3/29/21

 

Talking to mom this morning

“This was the first death I've experienced where I felt supported.

I could be aware and present to my grief.

I didn’t have to run things.

 

I'm not a continent anymore.

In the most beautiful way” said mom

 

“I know what you mean,” I replied. “Independence is bull shit.

 

I was right then, about the poem I wrote about when grandma Alice died.

You were alone”

 

“I had loving connections around me,

But I felt like I was then

The only adult.

I had to be the adult.

But I don't have to be anymore

 

I became a continent because you and Asa needed a strong foundation to stand.

You don’t need that anymore. You’ve got your own rootedness within yourself.
I am not a continent anymore. No man, is an island” ~my mother, for the first time, happy

 

 

Whens: Un Done

2021

 

There is harm in having parents still dreaming. 

A floating survival; waiting for eventually

The child does not learn how to be

Happy at now with the is in the here

Perpetual dreamer, planner of whens;

Never satisfied, never settled

Lost and empty in existence. 

 

I won’t make the same mistake

when I become a parent.

I will learn my present-being first.

A master of now, not when’s

of doing to dones, not laters

 

To be an example of satisfied existing

 

I am pained

And I forgive them, their dreams

Because I grew up dreaming with them

 

It was a wonderful drug to 

survive situational living pains

But I, too young, grew up 

blind and misled.

unaware that the coping mechanism 

was addicting,

and now, trying to live

it’s own source of troubling,

grappling pain.

 

I want to be sober of perpetually dreaming for when’s, un done. 

 

 

he does not see them 

6/13/21

 

See yourself in others,

But also see others without seeing yourself.

Even when their truth does not mirror your own.

 

He may see himself in them

But he does not see them.

And that is a loss for you and for them to grieve. 

 

 

Connecting with another

6/13/21

 

Connecting with another;

I feel more definitions

And rules slipping away - ‘what is best’?

You are human, and so am I

And here we are, sharing our humanity

And this moment

With

Kindness grace and mercy

Heart mind soul

It is not the container that matters

But the deep, the essence, the

Love thy neighbor

As practice, not merely commandment

The doings, not the words that can

            Misconstrue and separate the oneness

Ein sof - ein od - without end - nothing else - our Divine

what is best is to honor you

honoring me

honoring

life, existence, humanity,

and all that that brings

 

 

Honor our sacred distinctions: peace and love shalom v’ahavah

6/25/21

 

To honor my essence, my blood, my words

To honor yourself, your blood, your words

To honor their being, their blood, their words.

 

Containers separate and divide

Masking our likeness(es).

But of course we have potential for sameness(es)

We are all in the image of God.

 

With 

Kindness grace and mercy

Heart mind soul

It is not the container that matters

But the deep, the essence, the 

Love thy neighbor (and thy self)

As practice, not merely commandment.

We are all capable of this.

 

May you honor me, may I honor you, honoring 

life, existence, humanity,

 and all that that brings – messy - with empathy.

(move past these containers)

 

As I will look for myself in you,

Across these walls

I will also look for you

And see you, for you, too,

In the absence of myself. 

With all the unfamiliars to me

That your container holds, in its own beauty.

From you I can expect the same.

Tell me of your words and stories, and I will tell mine.

Dig with me to find our shared Godliness,

And to honor our sacred distinctions.

 

Oseh shalom bimromav hu ya'aseh shalom aleinu v'al kol yisrael v'al kol yoshvei tevel v'imru amen.

May the One who creates peace in the heavens create peace for us, for all who struggle with G-d, and for all beings; and let us say: Amen.

 

What God is for

7/1/21

 

And I lit a candle

To be my God

Reminder.

You are here with me.

I do not carry this weight alone.

​

 

my love history

7/10/21

 

My first love wasn’t but gave me ‘done with firsts’  (and other things)

and then I struggle with attraction

My second gave me standards and

Taught me timelessness.

Then an app lead me to learn about coffee dates

A kiss came around and showed me check boxes don’t make it

A date came later and I learned I can ignore the calculator but need to listen to my eyes

And remember the checkboxes won’t do

Then a crush came around

And I learned I don’t struggle with attraction

I just need to be attracted to your mind, too

But a DM slid in after and I’m giving him a chance still

Cause while apps give options, texting is exhausting, and checkboxes don’t work anyway

And the crush has me friend zoned

But the crush still gave me favorites

And aren’t favorites just our claiming our right to choose?