The Poetry Marathon

Source Material: The Land of Little Rain by Mary Austin

This is the nature of chaos.
Streaked with ash, evaporating the dark and bitter lies.
The wind drifts between them, the quick storms scar them
past redeeming.

One expects not to depend upon brackish and unwholesome dribbles.
Here you find the sink of Death,
the long heavy winds
and breathless calms on the tilted mesas where devils dance.
When all the earth cries for violence, with little in it to love.

[I don’t have a scanner and the erasure website wouldn’t let me create an account to save my erasure work. But I was able to save it as a PDF. Click the title of the poem to see the actual erasure work: Nature of Chaos – Poem ]

Dear former Idealistic Self, 20 Years Ago,

Twenty years is a blink, but you already know the relativity of time.
So listen, and change course.
The path you’re on, though good, is not the right path for you.
You feel lost and you’re searching for anything to give you stable ground.
But that ground leads you away from your dreams,
to a dead end that you’ll never forgive yourself for.
Don’t believe the lie that you were called.
You already know what you were born to do.
You’ll have to fight to do it, to make a way, but you can.

You’re an idealist, who gets a bad rap because you see reality, too.
As heartbroken as you feel, your hopes rise just as much.
But you must temper that hope with wisdom.
I’m so sorry to tell you, there are no miraculous doors that open.
You fight for everything, as you always have.
You are strong, even when you are at your weakest.
But don’t waste time hating that strength.
Be the Amazon you love. You’ll never bring her to life on screens of silver,
but you are a gladiator.
This is your path, though I know you do not want it.

Listen to your head before you go on your year long Academy adventure.
Don’t let religion brain wash you into believing in “the one”.
Use that year to build your dreams and education upon.
Don’t wait and flounder like I did.
Write, write, write, and write… one day you won’t have as much time.
And when you return home, let yourself get lost in the city.
Everyone else knows where you are, they’ll help you find your way.

You bear the weight of the world on your shoulders.
But none of it is your fault.
You must learn to cast the weight off, like a ball into the ocean.
Be brave and ask for all those things you don’t yet know how to do.
Answers will be given, then you can create the doors you want to open.

You have twenty years ahead of you.
Live them better than I did.

It’s been 10 years since I stood under a midnight sky,
sand beneath my feet, watching the fog linger above the ocean waves,
while boats of all sizes swayed at their dock.
I dreamt of getting lost within that fog,
of diving beneath the surface to find Atlantis.
I’d watch the moonbeams move with the crest line of the ocean,
a hush filling the air, the world around me going silent.

In that silence, I felt a sense of home and expectation.
But feelings aren’t concrete, they cannot be held or make promises.
I’d walk the few blocks home,
the fir trees surrounding our house suddenly became twenty-foot Sentry’s guarding
a home I didn’t know I couldn’t keep.
Every blade of grass was a burst of hope,
every crash of a wave was a whisper to keep believing.
…and I did.

Then I grew up.
The moon now is just a reminder
that I was damned long before I ever had a chance.

When your masks of pretend and deceit fall away,
I’ll still be me.
When your words slip, but cannot persuade,
I’ll be the brutality that cuts the cord,
in quiet whispers and kindness on the wind,
ending in inevitable silence.
You might see my visage crack, turning into ethereal ash,
yet I’ll still be me.

For I do not exist for you. Or the world.
I exist for me.

And when that silence descends like a fiery torrent of disbelief,
a burning blanket of loss and regret,
I will still be me.
And you…
You will wish with a guttural moan, that I was still there.

He loved everything airy and light:
traveling and laughter,
unicorns and weed.

He hated everything in the deep:
Deep thoughts and conversations,
emotions and being loved.

And he hated me.

I hear the melodic notes and can’t help but cringe.
I can’t explain why.
When I hear the artsy, folksy tunes of today and yesterday,
I roll my eyes.
When I hear the upbeat, funky pop music of today and yesterday,
I shut it off.
When I hear the guitar riffs and power ballads of rock and roll,
I walk away.

Once upon a time, I had a song for every moment of my life.
A soundtrack of memories.
But now, I only want to listen to the sound of silence.
Silence brings me peace.

I longed to walk among you as a child.
You were sophisticated, sparkly, and accomplished.
Living adventures I so desperately wished were real.

Small town or big city, it didn’t matter.
I grew up, stuck in the unseen world of not knowing how to break free.
I could never seem to find the right door, so I created my own.
Seen only by a few, still unseen by the majority.

Stuck in a world I wanted to crawl out of, always on the outside looking in.
Trapped in a body that can’t be still, my neurons constantly misfiring.
Trapped in a body that is failing, no matter the rigorous training I put it through.
I count the minute hands of every clock, waiting for it to implode.
This is not life.

We raced through the jungle trails on a motorcycle,
faceless men, clad in black, chasing us.
Throwing stars at us from their Ducati’s,
you were finally saving me.

We spun around a corner,
your father’s houseboat docked within the marsh.
Safety, at last!
There was a table for the dead affixed to the stern,
extending into the water.
At first glance, I thought it was a slide.
I lay on its metallic surface, warmed by the sun, because you asked me to.
Then streams of crimson spilled into the water surrounding me,
and then I knew.
You only saved me to drain me.
But why?

I jumped from my death and stormed the boat.
You had my passport, trapping me,
saying I had no choice but to die.
Begging to know why, you told me you had to obey.
Your father wanted me dead.
There was no time for tears, I was determined to find another way.
I could run back to the ninjas and let them take me.
But just like that we were already out to sea,
and your father wanted my blood.
But why?

Standing starboard, I could see the shoreline twenty miles away.
I could swim it. I would make it to shore, and then disappear.
Before I could dive, you grabbed my arm.
You gave me the small paper bag that held my identity and a key.
I followed as you led, a jet ski tethered to the boat.
You told me to go before your father came back, it was the only chance I had.

I straddled the jet ski, ignited it’s fury, and rocketed away.
The salt spray mixed with my tears as I left you behind.
I had no thank you to say, only confusion and defiance.
The further I rode, the more my heart broke.
I loved you more than a human could ever love,
but you were the death of me.

Molasses eyes, vertiginous depths, tender in gaze, opened to me,
abated my fear, born inside.
Velvet hands of strength smoothed my tears; you spoke of hope and held me close.
Distance called, left me cold, until heaven claimed you, and the earth kept you.
Scarring my heart.

Day breaks, the southern orb of light.
Sent to a new world. Red dirt, blades of emerald, mountains and valleys,
Egypt out my window, the Sub down the road from where I slept.
Faith our life, integrity our choice.
Relationships made, honor and excellence our oath.
The creed of our breath, our heartbeat, lived to the hilt till that world just a memory.
Family you were. Love you, I did. Love you, I do.
But too different was I for you.
My face hidden in the shadows, slapped cold with rejection as you lived on.

On butterfly wings I flew, from roots to you.
Creations waiting, new lives budding.
How much I loved you. How much I still do.
Did you know the battles I waged and lost for you?
Did I fail you?
Close my eyes, and feel the loss of the hundred smiles, the thousand tears,
the adventures of wilderness and trails.
Night time songs and hugs forever gone.
Grew wings, you did, and moved on. My hand and smile waving you on.
But I still miss you.

Turned the corner, graduating from war.
New hope, completely whole, till you.
Draining the poison of you from my veins,
Can’t bleed fast enough, years move too slow.
Raped my heart, sardonic laughter in your eye.
Sadistic, sociopathic revelry in your lies
tore at the scars in my heart.
I wait for hell to claim you, and the earth to keep you.

Sharp, cold steel, cut my body new.
Surgical hands, deft and soft, heal what is broken.
God gifted hands, take back what was stolen
And let me mend in the warmth of compression.
Quickly, without delay. And life will renew.

Memories I see. They do not fade.
Moons pass, suns rise, too many lunars and solars have gone by.
I see your face. Though you see not mine, I love you.
If apology is needed, forgive me.
I could not be perfect. I could not be more. I could not be less.

Oh molasses eyes, visit my sleep, hold my heart.
Honor bound friends, I forget you not.
Butterflies of creation, the jewels of my night sky.
Poison purged, I breathe again.
Surgeon hands, I wait for your elixir.
If all fails and goes awry,
I’ve known you. Loved you.
If all fails, then farewell.
I will remember you into eternity.

Empty water bottles sit on my nightstand,
having chugged them last night to hit my gallon-a-day mark.
A vine of purple flowers, ten years old, finally hangs above my bedroom door,
a thin canopy of color against the white walls.
A salt lamp and moon vase diffuser inactive on the table beside my bed,
surrounded by reminders of my life in New York City.
I can still smell the lavender that always travels with me.
Sitting on my bed, a cloud in my room,
the first bed I’ve ever owned.
Rolled it out of a box and watched it rise.
Purple, grey, and green fill my space,
the only space I have.
But it is not home.