OK, so, I know I shouldn't be so naive as to think that everyone understands the ways of the world. And I DEFINITELY shouldn't be so naive to think that everyone cares about the planet we live on. But, I mean, COME ON! I can't believe there are still people out there who throw trash out their car windows. I mean, seriously?

I know, I know...you still see trash on the side of the road. And I've been part of a crew of ladies who picked up trash on a 2-mile stretch...we did that for a few years. But, I guess I just hadn't actually SEEN anyone do it. And now twice in one week. 1st guy--a plastic water bottle. Oh my gosh--are you kidding me? That's one of the easiest things to get rid of responsibly by recycling. Almost every neighborhood has a recycling program that accepts plastic. And even apartment complexes, once they have a certain number of residents, have to offer recycling. I totally glared at him when I pulled up next to him at the light--I was appalled. He seemed confused by my glare. (that part was kinda funny, though)

Then, this morning, driving behind another car, I see a guy toss out a styrofoam cup from Whataburger. Ok, now I know styrofoam may not be as easy to get rid of, but some of those cups can be recycled with the other plastic and cans. I mean, at LEAST hold on to it and put it in the trash when you get home. At least show a LITTLE responsibility.

damn the human race...we are such jerks sometimes.

I sat there trying to listen attentively as others shared their personal narratives, or variations thereof. But my mind was on my own story—the words I had put together...words from my heart and soul. I had worked so hard to create this piece, and it had taken a turn I hadn't expected. I realized I was nervous to share. My hands were shaking as I fidgeted. I kept re-reading the lines on the pages in front of me, hoping to lessen the blow. But, now it was my turn. I took a deep breath and let the words flow.

And I listened. It was as if I was hearing it for the first time. For some reason hearing my own voice speaking the very same words I had written on paper, seeing all those faces, non-judgmental in their observation, I felt the memory of the truth of those precious words. I felt the years of wondering and the poignant questions simmering just under the surface of my heart, so close to the edge I could see over it. And looking into that expanse, I peered back into my own soul and realized there was pain. It wasn't that I hadn't known it existed. It's that I thought I was beyond it. But there it was. Buried under selfish desires and memories of childhood, existing. Even though I had read those words aloud countless times…listened to my voice, foreign and unrefined, whispering them under my breath so I could listen to their sounds… Still, I felt the pain and loneliness and questions and confusion and anger bubble up. Seeming to boil over the edge—tumble into the crevasse and fall.

The tears began to spew forth, threatening to endanger the words as they flowed past my lips, as if simply not saying them would render them false. As if becoming mute would take back everything I had already said and make me forget again. And they almost won. I could have given in—let them take over and engulf me. Succumb to the truth of those words and let the pain reign over me. But with strength, I pushed them away, knowing that in speaking them aloud, I could truly move beyond. Wiping away the complex feelings of abandonment and un-want, real though they are and always have been, I finished my final sentence, and I felt free.

This piece was written as part of an assignment to read a photograph that meant something to me.

rain pouring down worries in my head

lightning illuminating fears of what-ifs

thunder crashing and clashing against all that's left to do

the storm settles in for the night.

but, behind the relentless rage is a silver-hued moon that brings with it the breaking of another day

one filled with twinkling eyes, sunshine smiles and giddy laughter

tear-stained cheeks leaning over haikus

jewel-dazzled ears listening as poetry comes to life

hearts blazing and bursting into multi-hued auras

a new life begins as another verse ends.

WELCOME TO THE CHORUS

He walked down the street, for what he knew not.

He followed his instincts, drawn by fate and a question mark.

The drifting music pulled at his battered soul,

its tendrils caressing his heart as he ambled aimlessly along.

A light in the window, soft and beckoning, calling to his inner, unknown desires.

Your voice, he heard, expressing your renewed spirit upon awakening

after being entombed, trapped, for so long inside the negativity of your past.

And in your voice, he found that fate was showing him the faith he thought he had lost.

That--and a question mark.

**another assignment based on reading a photograph...

A pink dress with sweet frosting is all that remains of that little girl who held so tightly to the noisemakers in her grubby little hands. That, and a photograph.

To her left—a man she hardly got the chance to know, and definitely doesn't remember. He leans in and wraps his arm around her fragile little body, protecting her. A smile graces his face. He is proud to be included—to be a part of this memory, for who knows what the future may hold? He smiles with love for the sweet frosting little girl.

To her right—a woman, yet still just a girl. Barely able to take care of herself. Stubborn and headstrong, she's always broken the rules, until now. Sweet Frosting has changed all that. And it's all she can do to grow up in time to be a good mother to the girl in the pink dress. She must learn to take care of herself and Sweet Frosting. She says she's happy, that she wouldn't change it for the world. But her eyes betray her.

Shining silvery serpents hisssss as they slither through the grass.

Sliding across slippery streams, sustained and steady, their flow.

Suddenly a slick salamander saunters through and seems to sass on the sly saying so sarcastically:

"Silly serpents, striated and striped, your shiny silver skin is sooooooooo silky…"

This piece was written as part of an assignment for a Writing Workshop I am attending the next two weeks.

pale firestorm striking in my dreams, an awakening within me

dawn breaks, and with it, the faith existing in our preordained destiny

the tyranny of reality opens my eyes to see the corpse in my arms

your silhouette in the fog, clouding my mind

a system of uncertainty makes me feel unnecessary to the days' success

an epiphany i need; i search for, yet none will come