Susan Shultz's Blog, page 4

I drunk dialed Jesus

I drunk dialed Jesus
And he hit ignore.
I’m sure he expected
What he’s heard before.

[image error]

I drunk dialed Jesus –
But I knew he’d not care
Because it’s been so long
Since he’d answered my prayer.
I drunk dialed Jesus
To bring up the 80s –
And he rolled his eyes
And said, “covered that, lady.”
I drunk dialed Jesus –
Used kneeler and tears –
Begged for forgiveness
For so many years
I tried to explain.
Why I’d made these mistakes.
His glasses of stain
Made my broken heart ache.
I drunk dialed Jesus
On hold, soul a drift
Maybe he’s
Trying to get me a Lyft

Change

[image error]I taste the blood
My wasted blood
I block the flood
This messy mud

It just won’t stay
My brain’s ok
My flag is waving
It’s not worth saving

I mourn my youth
But don’t miss pain
Accept the truth
That comes again

It’s not given
What it should have
All I’d hoped
Was it would have

I have these parts
These painful sacks
But I’m ok
To give them back

I see this blood
This aged warning
From my gut —
My hollow mourning


The deepest thing that gives me pause —
My hardest labor — menopause.

Broken

[image error]You replaced my pitcher,

With cracks in composition.

Though I’ve not complained,

Nor expressed imposition.

I traced its cracks

After finding discarded.

I understood,

Having been broken hearted.

It has cradled my flowers.

I embraced its sharp teeth.

We both have parts missing,

To which blooms bring relief.

My pitcher, it leaks –

But It stays front and center.

Together our splits

Let love out, if not enter.

My pitcher tries hard

With mending and missed shards.

It’s ok to be broken –

Takes one to know one

Half

[image error]Half a block from me

All my life spent with you

Half not believing you were gone

Halfway through the seasons

On Christmas Day.

Half a century I’m approaching

Half my Christmases without you

Half my heart left

Half my tears remaining

Half my life you’re now gone

Half way recovered

Half enjoying the holidays

Half of what you hoped for me

Half conveying to my kids

How amazing you were.

Half achieving near that.

Half the confidence you had in me

Half hoping you see my tree.

Full hoping you love my girls.

Half a century approaching

Half my heart remaining.

Half a hope you hear

Half our Christmas singing

Half the time I’m thinking

How much I miss you.

How I’m grateful

You were half a block away.

Now half a sky –

And I

If lucky –

Am

half a life’s way

Back to you.

Turnstile

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Can I exit the turnstile

Left versus right?

Forget my location

– focus on destination

A pharmacy.

A rest stop.

A toll booth.

A hotel.

These all shuffle our lives’ cards.

Can I As well?

I’ll trade you my stresses

Try knitting them closed

take your family problems.

Against mine, juxtaposed.

We exhaust our thoughts

With that decades-old worry

Could it be changing shackles

Would free us in a hurry?

I long for your problems

I’m tired of mine

Rip clean the sketch pad

And start new designs

Hold my hand in the turnstile

Pass me your die, cast

Good luck chasing my future

As I escape to your past

Alice

[image error]I dreamed of Alice

In white and blue

I found my Alice

In morning’s hue

I dug this Alice

From dirt and tea

But does my Alice

Dream of me?

I’m small before

Her immense height

I’m not strong as

her powered might

I dreamed of Alice

But I’m late

Her mystery

My clouded fate

My Alices change

In size and shape

Together we

Are never late

I don’t fear

Won’t lose my soul

I’ve hid it down

The rabbit hole

The queens of hearts’ deal, fate lets stand

My dream, a frightening wonderland

Wind

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Oh, that wind

Rips down our dry tree tops

Knocks out our weak power

Rips off our last leaves

Whistles through creepy eaves

Won’t give fall a reprieve

Oh, that wind

Makes our clouds slowly dance

Teases white foam from surf

Gives the butterflies a chance

Fills my starved lungs with air

Carries upward my prayer

Makes me feel wings are there

For Dorothy Parker

[image error]Some think of luxury

As endless white sand

The bluest of oceans

Waited on foot and hand

Some long for luxury

In the surf, on a yacht

The ass kissing service

For the haves, not have nots

Some enjoy luxury

Their needs, finger snapped

Their dissatisfaction

Un-tipped knuckle rap

Some taste their luxury

In oysters, foie gras

A trembling quail egg

On their beef tartare

My dreams of luxury

Are to laugh, read and rest

In legit pajamas

And not worry what’s next

I have failed my daughters

I have the most amazing daughters that anyone could hope to have. They are vibrant, beautiful and strong. They are 12 and 10. And I have failed them.

Recently, someone made a gross, sexist comment in an environment that  made it easily  interpreted as “funny” or “the environment.” I was uncomfortable but I didn’t say anything because it would have been “awkward” for everyone else.

So I said nothing. I laughed to make everyone else feel better.

This, in an of itself, wasn’t a big deal.

But what the moment made me remember is the imposition of silence.

When I was a teenager, I was routinely stalked by a fellow teenager.  He followed me in my car. He sat outside my school. He showed up at parties I attended. He showed up anywhere I was. He carved my name into his arms with a knife. He threatened to shoot my parents and kill them. In writing.

And still, I was blamed. I caused it. I provoked it. Some people probably still think that.

In college, I drank too much. Who didn’t, right? One night, I drank too many tequila shots. Apparently tequila doesn’t work well with my chemistry. I passed out outside a Staten Island bar. Luckily someone I knew happened upon me on the sidewalk, while someone I didn’t know attempted to take advantage of my unconscious body.

I was saved.

In my high school years and college years, I worked for a New York City firm and put up with sexual harassment I never complained about. I was cornered by a man I was frightened of at an event and again, I was saved.

As I grew up, I became someone who championed women’s rights. I was a woman with two sisters. I believed in equality. I would scream and yell that.

Then I had two girls.

My daughters are amazing.

Since I had them, things haven’t been great.

A person I was acquainted with at work was reprehensible to me sexually. When I talked to my boss, they told me it wasn’t work related. They told me to resolve it outside of work. Luckily, again, another person I worked for was much more supportive. But still, my silence was encouraged.

And the worst, someone I loved as family, sexually harassed me. It broke me as a person and broke my heart. I still haven’t recovered. And more than any other case, my silence was demanded and encouraged. I shove my fist in my mouth so as not to vomit the truth.

There are many other ways I’m failing my daughters. I deal with shit in the worst way and teach them it is what they deserve.

What happened recently wasn’t a big deal. Any woman deals with this crap.

But they shouldn’t. I’m sick of it. And I’m failing my daughters by not changing this pattern.

I’m failing my daughters. I should save myself, so they learn how to do it. I’m tired of making everyone else feel better.

Even in this post, I’m still silent. I haven’t shared any details. I’m sharing as much as I can.

I hope I can do better for my daughters in the future. They deserve it.

 

 

 

 

 

The wooden spoon

[image error]Amidst the peeler

Forgotten pitter

Against your worth

Ladle’s a quitter

You may be clean

But you respond –

My meals, your memory

My porous wand

You are a weapon

You are a muse

You’ve been a part

Of cauldrons, stews

I’ll take your splinters

You take the heat

Our give and take

Makes meals complete

When plastic burns

And dull’s the knife

My wooden spoon

Brings roots and life