Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Interstate-64

Yesterday, on my way home from a college visit,
I counted six crosses on the side of the road.


Multiple lives have ended on interstate-64
six of them stopped forever in the hundred mile stretch
between Mt. Sterling and Louisville.
A cross placed on the side of a road
is the most tragic events
that is inflicted upon innocent eyes.


A life ended in that spot
without warning,
without goodbye.
There was no period or end mark given to them ahead of time to say their farewells,
Only metal against metal
brakes screeching
and loved ones yelling.
Reporters recite a memorized speech into a microphone
in hopes of drawing compassion from an otherwise
desensitized humanity.


There is no beauty
in a cross of the side of the road,
no matter the number of flowers
or coats of paint
or angle of the sun.

There is no beauty in a tragedy that steals lives.

Let Them Rest

We are incapable of rest.
Our society is relentless
always going
always expanding
always moving.
We have ceased to be still.

From day of birth,
to day of death
Our minds filled with thoughts
of Manifest Destiny
and the curse of placidity.

But there is a day
that reaches everyone
when the earth will take our last breath,
and disperse it.
Then,
only then,
will we be still.

Once they are gone,
let them rest.

Do not dress in elaborate affairs of black
with hopes that it will bring them back
They are already gone.


Let them feel the peace
                  the tranquility  
that society never has.

Let them rest.

Anxiety

My thoughts are silent.
My feet are still
My hands calm.


But tranquility never seems to last.


The words arrive
Whether by feeble silence
or thundering  detail
They always find me.


They crawl in through my ears
 my fingertips
my toes.
They find their way inside
no matter the boundary
no matter the dose of medication
no matter the amount of slumber.


The words find their way inside,
traveling through my organs,
up my spinal cord,
weaving into my bones,
clenching my heart.
Till it reaches my brain-
where it imprisons my mind,
traps my soul,
interlacing with my feelings,
ensnaring my whole being,
and I am completely submissive.


My feet are pacing,
my hands are sweating,
my body is shaking.


My thoughts are no longer silent- they are running a mile a minute
playing on repeat before my eyes like a movie flashing on the big screen.
A tornado of unrest,
a hurricane of emotion
with a frightened child trapped inside.


With each breath taken in-
I pull water into my lungs that are already filled to the brim.
One more deep breath-
and my lungs will collapse.
Causing all the water I was drowning in-
to flood out through my eyes
spilling like a tsunami straight from hell.


I am ten miles deep in the waters from my eyes,
      ten miles deep in the emotions that stole my peace,
ten miles deep in an ocean with no outlet.


But somehow-some way- the words are pulled
from my feelings
       my brain
       my heart
       my bones
      my spinal cord,
      my organs,
Shoved away from my entire being.


My thoughts are once again silent,
my feet still,
my hands calm.

Friday, October 2, 2015

Where I'm From

I am from the endless supply of horse tack 
lying around the dusty barn.
       from the blue ribbons
covering the walls.
       from the smell of leather cleaner
in the morning.
I am from the house in the country-
both of them.


I am  from the trees.
        from tireless hours spent
setting up a tent.
        from the lake with the slimy bottom
that always smelled like fish and pine needles.
I am from summers spent on the trails.


I am from the clothing dryer I tried to hid in
when my parents were fighting.
       from the words yelled
and objects thrown.
       from the gravel thrown up in the driveway
when my dad sped away.
I am from the decisions of surface level love.
I am from the five day drive
to the promised land.
       from the stays in cheap hotels
for one night.
       from roadside bathroom breaks
and gas station pizza.
I am from the journey to Kentucky.