A few Haikus

Leaves falling slowly

The cold wind bites me gently

My heart longs for heat. 

Oh child, be not dumb!

Hear what I have to speak:

Do not look back ever. 

There is more than this

I promise and guarantee

Just keep pressing on.

To be warm, I am

To be safe, I know I am

Can't you see I am?

i sit curled up in blankets with my guinea pig as the pale red sunrays rise illuminating the horizon. quiet sounds of a few cars break the early morning silence. pipo is snuggled against my neck, asleep. his mother and sister crowded the cardboard tube in the white wired cage across the room. as i gently stroke his head and stare at the dew covered green grass outside, i breathe. the silence that surrounds seems impenetrable, but i know that in ten minutes this tranquility will be a fleeting memory as the schedules of my day command presence of mind. i close my eyes and just breathe. if i don't breathe now, when, in this chaotic jungle, will i find the time to remember: life is for living.

alone in the dark

These days are strange, not my usual routine it seems. Yet when I look at my datebook, nothing is out of place. Long/short days of being aware, simultaniously unconscious, I watch as time walks past without a care for me or mine. I can't sleep, not for the life of me. I'm tired, yet still it seems to escape my body's realization. I'm running close to empty and I know it; I can feel this in my bones. Except, here I am: sitting at my computer at two in the morning. I suppose (to myself of course since there is no one around) that this is going to be one of those semesters: the ones you don't really see pass by, yet years down the road you realize the toll it has taken on you is far more serious than you'd ever imagined.

I've oft wondered what it will be like. I suppose it will hurt a little. Maybe even break me a little. Perhaps I'll cry. Perhaps I'll laugh. I don't know. I'm not sure. I've resigned myself to not being able to know what's coming or how I'm going to retaliate. Though, if i were to hazard a guess on past experiences and reactions, what would I do? I'd do what I've done for the past nineteen years. I'd do what I've always done. I'd do what is routine and familiar. I'd be

Silent: that was what I was hoping my life would be. Needless to say, life isn't silent. It's full of sounds, of noises, of commotion and clamor. Big rigs are always rummbling, sounding alarms as they pass by, shaking things up, confusing drivers. Nature is always chirping away letting everyone know there's still some places that are peaceful. Cities are always rushing past--people chatting on mobiles, families fighting over the last serving of turkey at Thanksgiving only to end up laughing, friends singing "Love is all we need" at the funeral of one of their own--keeping an eye on how many days are passing us by, careful to let us know that we haven't got too many of them left, so no wasting. Children are always asking questions, or actually only one question: why? It's what you're secretly wondering as well, only you think you should know the answer so you never ask. It's ok. We all do that. We all keep silent when we're dying inside to do the opposite, to ask and tell and learn and teach. We all keep silent when we shouldn't. We all say things we've never meant. We've all been

Stupid, I know what I did was stupid. There was nothing i could do. Nothing I could say. But now I'm beginning to understand that all I had to do was just say it. There was nothing to be afraid of. There was nothing to tremble at. Yet I did. I paused, hesitated, afraid. And now, all I can do is put one foot in front of the other and hope I don't make the same mistake again, and if I do...well, I'll know that I just need some more time to learn that it's ok to trust. It's ok to lean on someone else for a little while. I don't have to be the rock all the time. I don't have to be life buoy for all time. I can reach out my hand and say, "Hi, I need a hand to help me up."

So with that thought, I think I've just heard an answer: "Here, I can help."

My bed calls.

Good Sleep

i stood at the back of the darkened room watching picture after picture fade on and off the white screen. voices described the life of the people who's faces we were staring at, but i'm not paying attention to what's being said. i'm wondering why? why didn't anyone ever slow down? why didn't anyone ever take time, even five minutes, to ask these kids, "hey, what's up? how's it going?" and from there perhaps get to know them. we move so fast we somtimes forget that in order to see what's going on around us, we can't be moving at 190 mph. we have to stop. we have to just stop, look around, see what's going on. maybe then we can understand why even though we long to be understood by others, they can't understand us and we can't understand them. because neither of us are willing to slow down and say, "hi, my name is ______. what's yours?" and really mean it. not one of us are willing to take time to know another person. and that's why we're always wondering, "how could something like this happen? what made a person do something like this?" if we want to stop wondering, we have to start paying attention. to pay attention we have to slow down our pace of life.

"my advice for obtaining pearls: shuck some oysters. you may find a treasure that lies therein." no one thing worth the world's weight in gold ever came without a price, even a sacrifice. and sometimes, it's the person we least expect who holds the biggest pearl of all. every person, every circumstance has a grain of sand in its center. if we rub hard enough and long enough, something will come of it. we just have to stick with it.
find the pearl.