My corduroy road
Stiff with a dull ache,
my bones take their time towards the door.
I choose the corduroy road- out by the bogland.
Biding my mountain climb~ instead,
I near the barren terrain; where in first glance
is seen as plain- in short grass.
But aside, a whispering breeze heard shows a closer look;
a muddy pool stained, water dark with rain.
Tears dropped; blighted leaves, curled~ overlay the bedrock.
As toiled fragments of a summer long gone, still circle.
There, along the edge, the Lodgepole glares down the rising marsh.
While fissured bark of a Cottonwood peels back,
avoiding the pale cast of abandoned remains.
For beneath the surface lies the deluged umbrage~foliage forgotten.
A distorted decay of recollections; silent, from the winter freeze.
Another Limber pine twists away, shaped by the wind; eroded on the peat.
~Jessi (image and poem)
My Own Little Shelter
My mind is my shelter from the storms of Life.
Whatever Life may throw at me,
be it pain, sorrow, tragedy, fear,
into my MIND, I go.
For in my mind, I can build a new world,
a new life,
a new Me.
In my mind, I can be rich, famous, gorgeous,
I can be all the MEs that I am not.
In my head, I am safe,
safe from those who hate me,
safe from those who would persecute me,
In my brain, I am even
safe from death itself.
In my mind, I am secure,
I am loved,
I am my best Me.
In my mind, I am all.
When the aches of Life threaten my sanity,
into my mind I go,
the better to escape,
the better to renew,
the better to begin again.
The dampness of the earth is reassuring underneath my feet
As I head towards that tree that rises up from the ground,
Dying branches spread far, but spectral and somber against
The vibrant hues of the other trees in full bloom.
Against the backdrop of the noise of the distant stream,
And the gentle breezes of the early spring,
I wrap my arms around the rough bark and begin to climb
Up its trunk and to the curving branch, perfect for sitting,
Thinking, and being safe.
I am tired, Commander
From all the stress I suffer
From the duties, responsibilities
Is resting even a possibility?
It is I, my Dear Commander
It I your soldier
Please let me put down the baggage on my shoulder
So to you I shall completely surrender.
I am tired, My Commander
Let me in our secret place
Let me tell YOU everything I've been through
Let me cry on YOUR shoulder
Do not cast me out of our place
I can do nothing without You
It is only with you in our War Room
Will be at rest forever.
My safe place
As I grew up, I slowly began to realize that there was no such thing as a safe place. There was never anyone I could trust enough to speak to, a place that I could run to, a door behind I could cry without being heard. So I kept my feelings inside me, I let my secrets weigh me down, it was like crying-but without making a sound. And one day I found out that there is one place you can go, when nowhere else is safe-a page full of words. They'll take your secrets to their graves. Stories that I could hide in, a place far far away, or pages I could write in-to help me face the day.
For I have two safe places and one of them is closed dark places because I like to think I'm filling those places with my thoughts and it makes me at peace with everything in the emptiness I can fill on my own. The second is the people I trust and care about because I know they will always be there for me and that they will protect me whenever they can no matter the situation I'm going through like my best friends, my boyfriend, and all my siblings will always be there to catch me when I fall and I can't carry the amount of stress I'm under they will take part of the load and ask what is the matter and I'm ok. These are my safe places, what's yours?