You build with mortar the barriers around you
Going into shutdown mode
With robotic automation

And I pick up the slack
With my overwhelming frustration
An attempt to bulldoze your red brick wall

My mind whispers otherwise
Reminding me its compassion that tears down fences
That creates safe spaces that coax you out of hiding

But usually my ego wins
Responding from the fear recalled by my previously wounded heart

You’re not him
Any of those other hims
And I’m not the girl I was then either
Nor am I the person who taught you to withdraw

But still we slip into those places our experiences have created
Those places that tell you to hide
And me to fight for my life
That forget the safety we can celebrate in the other’s arms

And I’m thankful for those moments for two reasons.

One: that they never last long
That what used to be my entire experience of love
Is now merely a glimpse of a little girl’s fear that overtakes me momentarily
Before I remember who I am
And where I am
And who I’m with
And what we both need.

And Two: that they remind me of those things at all
Of who and where I am and with whom
That they offer the contrast of a previous life I thought was normal
And the wonder I still dwell in because I’ve discovered that its not
That those places are no longer comfortable
No longer the first place I go
No longer the last place I want to leave
That they no longer threaten me
Or you
Or us together
But that they merely happen as a glimpse of an old self
A history we get to rewrite
And not a destiny we’re doomed to repeat
That it’s never long before your arms are wrapped back around me
And I’m sinking into your heartbeat
And we’re smiling again
With the reminder that decades past is not our reality
Even if we momentarily relive it
For old time sake perhaps

Yes, I’m thankful for the times you trigger my old shit
(although you’ll never hear me say it in the moment)
Because I want to be the woman who loves you that fiercely
As to lean into compassion instead of bulldozer mode
Into love instead of my own fear
Into what you need instead of what I’m afraid to give
(Yes, I have walls of my own
Not the kind that go up in a flash
But the more insidious kind
That stay up all the time
And are made of clear glass
Giving you the illusion of openness
Until you face plant against them.)

And I’m thankful for another thing:
This sacred little space we’ve created between the two of us
Where you learn to open up
(and I learn to shut up)
Where I learn to be patient
(and you hurry up and get there already)

Yes, we have our moments of fear
That manifest as anger and disconnect and hurt
But damn, only moments?
(I’d call it easy if I didn’t remember how fucking hard it was there for awhile
and how much we worked at this
and how we almost didn’t make it work)

I guess what I’m trying to say
Is your damn sexy
Red brick walls and all
And I’m glad you think I’m cute when I’m mad
Because I must be breathtaking to you
Right when we need to love each other most.

I use to write poetry
I use to write it for me
I would climb
To the top of the pine tree
(In front of the house on Powell Street)
With a notebook under one arm
The other barely holding on
And the sap on my feet

And there I’d write words
Words just for me

Whatever happened to that balladry,
The one about the wind wrapping around me?
More importantly
Whatever happened to the pride in me?
The wonder and awe I would see
In the eyes from the mirror
Of a little girl free?
With the scraped knee
And the grand ideas of who I would be?

I use to write poetry
Poetry that was only for me
Words that sang
And excited
And made me love me

I was 10 (or 11 maybe)
What did I know about creativity?
About cocooning my art
My heart
Against unprepared insensitivity?
What did I know about the adult world
of being too busy
too tired
of not taking things personally?

I was 10 (or 11 maybe)
I thought that others would see what I could see
That they would slip into the words I wrote
The wind I felt
The wonder I sensed
That others would celebrate with me

I believed I needed them to see
to feel
to sense
to celebrate
in order for it to be real for me

But the class didn’t see
And Mrs. Whats-Her-Face
That I loved so dearly and now can’t remember her name
Wasn’t even listening

And at 10 (or maybe 11)
I learned to judge me
Only by what others perceive
(Or what I perceive they perceive)
I learned to stop writing poetry
To stop writing it for me
I learned to look for what others might see
I learned to deny me
To call me crazy
To think I’m being weird or silly
To hide me

I unlearned the wind around me
I unlearned the words that whispered softly
I unlearned to shine brightly
For no one else to see but me

For awhile I unlearned how to hug me
And how to celebrate singularly
And how to write according to what I believe
I unlearned that I’m worthy
For no one else but me

I unlearned how to write
My own flavor of poetry
To voice the song within me
To do it for me

But this…
This one is for me

This is the song that’s within me
The words as they speak only to me
The message I seek
That I’m ready to see
The Truth that I know
That I’m ready to be
The voice and the song
That I’m setting free

The practice of my own vulnerability
The practice of my own authenticity
The practice of saying “Fuck it” to the way it “should be”

This…
This is poem for me.

i’m glad you were born
29 years ago
in this very place
when we were still worlds apart

you, with a crooked smile
and a chipped tooth
and a deep sense of responsibility
for things that aren’t yours
and those who are

you, who grew up quickly
and quietly
who’s path i often wondered if i crossed
unnoticed

you, who sacrifices all dignity
to see us laughing until we pee our pants
at the faces you make
or animals you impersonate
or other things I probably shouldn’t repeat
(because dignity is only lost for us, after all)

you, who feels old in his youth
and gives himself a bellyache for it
who fears things
like speaking his mind
and wearing pink that’s really grey
no matter what your eyes tell you

you, who challenges me
and my beliefs on independence
who reminds me without words
(and sometimes with words)
all you mean to us

you, who fills me
who is the catalyst behind our best ideas
who inspires me
and reminds me of my own power
yet fails to see it all lacks without your hand

you, who is not finding yourself
but creating
who thinks deeply
but doesn’t share
whom i can neither read
nor resist

you, who fails to acknowledge
your own wonder and prowess
who can’t admit to the miracle that is you
who has yet to discover
the influence and magic that would disappear
had you not been born
into this world
and into mine

i’m glad you were born
to smile and to learn
to push and be pushed

i’m glad you were born
to influence and shape
and create and Be

i’m glad you were born
into this place, this time
to be this person
just Who You Are
right now
and here with me

Happy birthday, Justin. I love you.

the one who did your makeup
although i don’t remember
more than the photo
that shows your smile
and what i perceive
hope
is a look of endearing love
even though i put pigtails in your hair

i don’t hold many memories
of you
of us
although i do remember
when you held my seat
as i learned to ride my bike
i was awfully upset when you let go
when you said you wouldn’t
even if i didn’t fall

do you know where i was
when you died
hiking angel’s peak
at zion
on Earth Day
the same hike
we went on when i was little
i wish i could remember it
or know where i was
or what i was seeing
when you let go
maybe it was something
we once saw together

i’m sorry
for my last words
for my passive-aggressive tone
for implying
you weren’t enough
i swore
i would never let myself
lose another person
with things left unsaid
without telling them i loved them
but I made one mistake
i always thought
we’d get the call
and i would be there
to hold your hand
and whisper
it’s okay
as you slipped away

instead
you died alone
in your chair
and i never got the chance
to tell you i was sorry
to tell you i forgive you
for being human
and ask you to forgive me
for being the same

i still wonder
what you would think
who you would’ve voted for
or what you would say
about my crazy ideas
or my hair
would you listen
and agree
and tell me I’ll always be
your little girl
or would you chuckle
or shake your head
or debate
like we used to

for months
after you passed
i heard your voice
say my name
and i’d want to call you
but then remembered
i couldn’t
i don’t hear you anymore
and i never forget
your gone
but i still miss you
immensely
and i still regret
your worse fear came true
and you died alone

© Tara Wagner April 22, 2009

.

.

to love the mess
and kiss the rock that tripped me
and bless the burnt edges
of the toast for their discomfort

to smile
at the laughter
at the sun
at the wind that blows away
my patience

to be open
to opposition
contrast
differences
and allow it
to open my mind
and think and wonder
ponder, confuse, debate
and then accept it as it is

to breath
deeply
often
to look beneath
to love the layers
and what they hide

to dance
to spin and sway and float
and then be still
and listen
hear
understand
or not
and be okay with it

to create
with color or word or light
with pen or paper
or heart

to sing
and hum
and hear the music
in the trees
and the birds
and the traffic
and the tears

to play
like a child
like an adult
in my heart
my home
and the world around me

to let go
of anger
expectations
assumptions or impatience

to grow
in the soil or the sand
like the bloom
open
simple
wild and trailing

to give and love
and accept both in return
to pray with my lips
or my heart
my steps
or my lungs
every moment, my offering
every breath, my soul

to be sweet
like sticky honey
dripping from my pores

to offer
what others need
to be what wraps around them
the warmth that embraces
listens
silent
loving
to be the smile
that whispers comfort
that hears the truth
and sits in awe

© Tara Wagner 2009

.

the dance is missing from this town
its sad embrace just pulls me down

impatiently i wait to hear the chime
a chirping message telling me its time
while colored dreams and mighty plans sustain
pushing paths against the weathered grain
i watch the feet that carry me along
humming through the notes within the song
and watering the seeds that have been sown
i miss the things i’ve never really known

Copyright TheOrganicSister 2/27/09

*i wrote this a couple weeks ago but only just got around to posting it.

So we look away

Atrocities are easier to swallow

When blended with half truths

And sweetened with righteousness

Peace promoted through vengeance

Like a child’s immature retaliations

“Because they did it first”

And we shake our heads

Wondering at its failure

We rattle our fists

And swear to our gods

and take two eyes for one

Then leave our crumbling gold

To patch the wound

We arrogantly ask our children to fight

Denying all kinship

And diverting our vision

For as long as we don’t look for it

We’ll never have to see

Humanity in the eyes of our enemy.

© Tara Wagner

ask yourself that question.
you don’t need to answer me.

meditate on the image
that comes into your head

you’re not forever who you are now
you are the Future You instead

Give to me your devotion
A delicious gift to drink
Receive my mutual emotion
Sacred kiss upon your cheek

Lay your heart upon my lips
And dance through my embrace
Soul of one cannot endure
Without love’s tender face

[*Old poem found among the rubble and posted with the date which it was written, 10/25/07, Rebirthed]