Country Roads

The sun was so warm. The heat was pressing against my body as if I were in a pressure cooker. Instead of feeling exhausted and gross I just shed clothes and got in the water. My skin darkened, my senses awakened to the sounds of millions of cicadas, the smell of fresh cut grass and bbq, and the taste of fresh picked peaches and sweet icetea. Sweaty, sumptuous and free I soaked up the flavors and sounds of my hometown. Day trips to childhood places that I thought would shred my soul turned out to be journeys to enlightenment, strength and whole truths. The nights were drenched in laughter, furtive glances, healing music and sneaky missions. Whiskey trickled and tequila flowed down our thirsty throats. Our glasses full, stories on the table and the corridors of our hearts open wide as we reconnected. Like a wound that took a decade to bridge and grow anew we reached out to each other to form a sexy scar that no longer hurt, just made a story.  We came together with careful tentacles reaching pensively in search of love, patience, honesty and mind blowing excitement. We are the music makers, we are the dreamers of dreams.  The hardest task on my journey home was to face the most horrific relic of my childhood. My dads house and the surrounding land has only offered miserable pain in my adult life. Shame, fear, resentment and great loss are soaked into the walls, yard and garage.  On the way my friend asks me "Why do you want to see it?", "Are you sure you need to go there?" ... I had no solid answer other than I must go. To my absolute astonishment I found the house had been rebuilt and the land cleared of all signs of what used to be. The wildflowers were ten feet high and the Texas grapes still littered the dirt road. My heart was filled with light. I was spared the hell that I was willingly walking into.   As if I couldn't have felt more healed, a dove lighted near us in the yard and was obviously very comfortable to be close. It was like a layer of emotional sludge had been lifted. It reminded me of the bath house in "Spirited Away" when she finds the bicycle and pulls it out of the side of the massive pile of sewage and all the garbage is released in a great expulsion. Then the river god was free of the poisons that had not spoiled it's beauty, just buried it. 

Beastly

They want to eat me alive. That's how they look at me. I feel like a curvaceous, wanton woman on the outside. Inside I am magma, razor wire and poison smoke. He infected me with his disease. I am now numb. No one can touch me. I used to throw my arms out to embrace and love. Now I turn away, cold and angry. I feel this rumbling storm inside me. I just have to paint, dance and write it out. An old friend came calling with crackling fire stories. I am indifferent, aloof, unimpressed. What a pity. This gipsy cowgirl craves release, revolution, seduction and to seduce. I am empty, hurt and dangerous. I don't know what to do with this power, this horrible, cold blade in my mouth. I'm afraid I will shred all suitors who dare to take my hand. Best keep to myself during this time. I'm sure I learned how to be more guarded after what happened.  At least there's that. However I never thought in a million years I'd have to fight myself this way. I am strong. I am a survivor, but it's going to take a lot of self discipline to forge a new path to hope.

Go it alone

I have had to tough out, cower, fight and run. There's never been someone to run to. I have no mother, no father. I feel like an abandoned project from space. Like I was being built to last somewhere far away by highly skilled creatures who were interrupted by some kind of cataclysm. Like I was sent in a pod to Earth so that I could live, but always to be alone. When I am at my most sad, which is rare, there's no one to call for comfort. Ever. My mother left me and I still hurt so much. I remember the last time I laid on her chest and listened to her heart. I remember the last time her voice and arms brought comfort. I don't know why this is hitting me so damn hard lately. This Texas trip has got me shaking in my boots. I'm so tired of being the black sheep. I want to go home and feel the support from all of those loved ones that used to be my family. I know everything is going to be ok, but I also know I'll be making sure of that on my own.

Stinging eyes

Ragamuffin Singing on the swingset
 Tired eyes
Slowly burning
Worn edges
 Rough cut
She can't be tethered
Nor tied
Always a Rosalyn
 This precious gem
  Cleavage planes
glinting in the moonlight
  Singing into the wind
Barefoot soldier
 A rainstorm in her soul
 Lighting in her veins
Thunder from her heart

Untitled

Layers of love stories
piles of precious velvet
lay thick and  heavy upon my heart.
I pull away each layer
 to dig out my soul,
 but I keep lingering on memories.
 They hum and whisper sweet songs that were made just for me.
  I get caught by a stitch or burn.
 Lose myself in remembering
our special patterns.
 I can hear the honeybees buzzing in my red delicious heart.
They remind me
I am queen.
So i continue digging
through soft, luxurious fabric
doing my best
not to linger here
or digress.
I'm on a mission
 I want to love
to be loved back
but I fear
adding another layer over my heart.
I don't want to bury her
She's a good and sturdy vessel.

Broken

This fantasy cowgirl
With lightning bug powers
Brought forth with fervent joy
All of her milky treasures
Exposed the secret places of her desires
She let herself be taken
Dropped her protective shell
Shared her cursive lines 
Gave it all away like a fool
See his face in puddles
bend down to kiss the street
A garbage heap in her  heart
She let him build
Can't help but wait and see
 should be working
Upon her beautiful soul to keep

March 26th 2012 Jupiter, Venus, waxing crescent

Venus, Jupiter and the waxing crescent moon aligned this evening just after dusk.  I went to the studio to paint and had to succumb to the evil cold that has been threatening to take my energy to live for months. I'm going to have to master a table saw and cut a straight line in order to get cracking on the art show.  I know I don't have much time before the art space will be bustling with activity. The sun was out in all it's radiant glory for a few hours today. I am going to drag my baby pool right up to the dock doors and lay in it every weekend for the whole summer if I can manage it.  I can't wait for the weather to change. It's colder in Ballard compared to Capitol Hill.  I HATE living in Ballard, but I do love seeing the stars and swinging in the park at night with out the worry of being mugged.  I have been living in my new place for almost five months now. Alex is a huge part of how I have survived the sad break up with Jeff.  I am very grateful to have such a loving and intelligent being be my son.  I've had so much more alone time since the move.  I realized yesterday that I haven't really had the chance to be a young woman on her own ever.  I had my son at twenty one.  I'm still young, but not so young that I will be dangerous or stupid.  I feel I'll always be wild, daring and free to some extent.  I love my life and am enjoying growing into this version of myself that I dreamed I'd maybe be one day.  I was locked in a perpetual state of insecurity and fear of abandonment for so many years.  Now I see that.  I didn't before.  The same question still plagues my soul....
How to make love stay?