Sue Baiman's Blog, page 4

Too Many Words

 

   There was a time

When I didn’t have the words

A time without meaning

Before this leaning

On words like a crutch

Was much more than a wish

A dream

To somehow take these feelings

Thoughts and dreams

Of a better world

Find a way to pull then together

And say what I felt

And maybe be heard

Over the cacophony of this world

   There was a time

When rhythm and rhyme

Were things I kept secret

Hidden in my heart divine

Poured over but never discussed

Because I didn’t know much

And was terrified

To be ridiculed

When my ignorance was exposed

Naked but for my love

Of passionate prose

Words enveloped in bows

For surely they told a story

Just as important

As longer works

These little verses

That tugged at my heart

   But my art

Was never so refined

So as to be able

To bring meaning to rhyme

No there was a time

A time long ago

When I gave up writing

And only read

A time when my fear

Gave over to dread

Because who was I

To try to explain the world

When my view of it

And my understanding

Was so small

   And then there came a day

When something snapped

Some regulator inside me

Let go

And some switch

That was stronger than

Anything designed to hold it in place

Flipped on and my desire for words

To describe what I saw

To explain what I felt

To try to understand

This thing they call self

Became not a want

But a need

   And with nothing

To hold it in check

The words flowed out

Gushing forth

Like some primitive font

Burst forth from the earth

They are raw

And unyielding

They don’t line up neatly

In tight little rows

Marching forward

Down the page

Like the word soldiers

Of earlier ages

When fashion dictated

They must be thusly so

   No!

These words come

From an older place

Where fashion and grace

Do not get to dictate

How they form or flow

They are my release

A psychic spewing

Of pent up feelings

When I am frustrated

Or worn down

Written down

In a word release

The metaphysical

Equivalent

Auditory masturbation

Were I to read them aloud

   Ah but then

My embarrassment would return

And I would be forced to learn

How society views

Displays like mine

Where inner demons

And undying love

Go to hide

From the disapproving stares

Because to want attention

And also love

Is unheard of

And if you stand

In the center of Time Square

Yelling out your inner demons

You will surely get attention

Love, not so much

   If instead

You scribble down

Your inner demons

My inner demons

The pain of a love

Not lost

Because that would be far easier

Than the love you’ve found

But cannot have

Hoping against hope

That these words

Spilling out of you

Literary blood

Running down the gutter

To pool in the cesspool

Of modern publishing

Would garner some attention

Or at the very least

Out the damned spot

Of existential pain

   Instead

What I’m left with

Are too many words

Imperfect in so many ways

Much like me

Yet even more words

Will follow right behind

Each trying to do

What the previous group could not

Each carrying a piece

Of the things I don’t know how to say

Out into the light of day

As I try to make sense

Of me

Leaving only those words

Too too many words

Behind

Love Yourself

I am fat

I am a fat woman

With breasts the size of melons

That when left to their own devices

On a football Sunday

Where I curl up on the couch

To watch the games

In my pj’s and sweats

And refuse to leave my nest

Will settle themselves somewhere between

My chin and my waist

Depending on whether

I’m sitting or lying down

My ass is dimpled

And my belly resembles a beachball

With the stretchmark stripes

I received in honor

Of my service as incubator

For three wonderful members

Of the next generation

I have scars on every part of me

Some old and faded

Like a favorite pair of jeans

Some fresh and raw

From playtime with a kitten

Whose energy is limitless

And whose claws are sharp

But thankfully

All the scars on the inside

Have healed over

With lessons learned

And stories to tell

Of making it through

Instead of giving up

And living to make new mistakes

But here’s the thing

While I am fat

And scarred

Flawed and imperfect,

I am perfect just the same.

And I love every inch

Of this body.

I am proud of this body

And all that it has done

For me so far

Proud of the children

It grew and delivered

Sheltered inside my beautiful belly

Pushed out into this world

Through my ample hips

If you look into my eyes

You will see a fire there

A desire, a hunger

To know things

Do things

Be things

That have nothing to do

With the size of my clothes

And everything to do

With the brightness of my soul

If you are one of those people

Whose gaze stops at my waist

Keep walking

I don’t need you

Or your closed-minded disapproval

I don’t exist for you

And you certainly don’t exist for me

But get out of my way

Or my fat ass will run you over

And if you are one of those people

Who looks a lot like me

Or maybe you’re imperfect

In some other way

Imperfect compared to the lies

That society tells us to be

Then open your eyes

Open your ears

And open your heart

Your weight doesn’t define you

Your height or hair or skin

Don’t define you

What you think and what you do

Those are things that define you

How you treat others

And how you treat yourself

Those are qualities

That determine greatness

Don’t be afraid

To hold your head up high

Be afraid of not having enough time

To do all the things

You need to do

In this short time we have

Be afraid of not speaking up

Of not leaving your mark

Anything else

Including the size of your clothes

Is inconsequential

You are not

So love yourself

I know I do already.

 

Butterflies

I went for a walk

Head down

My heart in sadness

And a pair of golden wings

Outlined in deepest black

Shimmered and fluttered

As it crossed my path

Bringing a moment of gladness

I watched it as it flew

As it continued on its way

Realizing that I would likely

Never see that particular butterfly again

Yet glad for this one moment

Wondering how many paths

This glorious, ephemeral creature

Would cross in its far too short lifetime?

How many hearts would it gladden?

What works of art

Would it inspire?

Beyond this poem, maybe photographs

Or paintings, or a song

Would be created

Even though its time here

Is never long

And then it occurred to me

That we are butterflies too

With the capacity to inspire

To flutter on the breeze

Chasing our desires

That each is beautiful

Lovely and unique

And our time here far too short

So spread your fragile wings

You rare and beautiful soul

Inspire those whose paths you cross

And fly to where you need to go

You are more beautiful

Than you will ever know

And your life, while short

Impacts us all

Settled

I can’t imagine

What it feels like to feel settled

To know that where you are

Is home

I watch other people

Watching their kids

Our kids

At sporting or school events

And I can imagine them

In that same place

Twenty years from now

Doing the same

With their grandchildren

Because their parents

Are right there with them

I don’t know if my kids

Will have kids of their own

Or if they do, where they’ll raise them

But I’m pretty sure

I won’t still be here

When that day comes

The only place I’ve ever felt like I belonged

Was were I grew up

We moved away

When I was 10

But later we moved back there

And I discovered

That feeling of belonging

Of being home

Was specific to when I

Was that child

And it wasn’t going to change

Just because I moved back.

That place was no longer home

No place since has ever felt that way

So now, home is only a faded memory

Of a feeling, of family

Acceptance and innocence

That I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to reproduce again

The closest I’ve ever felt to being home

Being settled

And feeling safe and secure

Was when I was in your arms

But time and distance

And other people

Separate us

So that you feel farther away

Than even my childhood

And I’m getting used to this feeling

Of living life unsettled

Of being slightly off balance

And never truly home

So much so

That I wonder

If this not-quite-right feeling

This unsettledness and the

Unsettled mess of me

Helps keep me on my toes

Keeps me searching

So that I never settle

For things I’ve already done

But instead keep pushing myself

Forward, onward

Looking for somewhere to settle

Somewhere

Or someone

To call home

Almost Late

This morning was one of those mornings when shaking off the bonds of sleep was harder than usual. But more than that, the last vestiges of the dream I either had just had or was still having refused to leave and I kept trying to return to that place. When I finally gave up and opened my eyes I wrote this in an attempt to capture that feeling. And of course, I was almost late getting out the door as a result.

 

When you wake up early

From an almost dream

The kind where it was almost sexy

But not

Where something exciting happened

But you made it home

Well, not exactly home

But somewhere safe

And somehow you were in bed

Or not

But you were warmly cocooned

And trying to sleep

Because it had been a long dream

And you were on adventures

And this safe sleep

Cocooned comfily

Was your reward

And what is that noise

It’s just a fleeting thought

Not worthy of being in your brain

Because it’s so perfect here

So floatingly, blissfully perfect

Snuggled up here

There’s that sound again

But a smack of the hand

Holds it at bay

Except that the cozy place

Is starting to disintegrate

Foggy wisps flowing away

From your almost dream

Because it’s almost morning

And the almost demons

You have to face during the day

Are becoming more real

By the instant

Even as the sheets and blankets

Become less soft

And the alarm bleats again

But if you’re lucky

You will be able

To eventually find your way back

Through the fog of almost

Into the adventures of your dreams

But for now, almost has passed

Time to get up

Almost

And you hit the snooze button

One more time

You’re almost ready

To face the day

Almost

But not yet

 

Happy Father’s Day, Dad

So many

Of my happiest memories

Are wrapped up in

One single person

My dad

But I tend to forget

To remember those good things

And too often

Cling to the other

Less happy

Less perfect

Events in my life

And then Father’s Day

Rolls around

And I’ll call my dad

And tell him

Happy Father’s Day

And that I love him

But I never think

To tell him about

All the things

The memories

That make him

So special to me

How when I drove my first car

That ugly ass brown Ford Granada

Into the curb

Because I got distracted

By something red

And shiny

Zipping past

And Mom was so furious

But he calmed her down

And said, “The important thing

Is no one was hurt” and

“It’s a learning experience”

For all the learning experiences

I’ve had over the years

I should be Einstein by now

Yet he always believed in me

And my potential

To learn from my mistakes

And do better

Or how he taught me

To throw a football

And hit a softball

How he stepped up

To coach my team

And I was so proud of him

I was never a great athlete

But he taught me

That that doesn’t matter

It’s the love of sport

And good sportsmanship

The joy of competing

Even if you never win

That makes a difference

In a person’s character

I had a difficult time as a kid

Learning to read

But eventually figured it out

But my love of words

Was cemented

When he brought me

The police procedurals

And dark mysteries

As he finished them

With the caveat

Of, “Don’t let your mom

Catch you reading this stuff”

They were books

That I cherish

To this day

Books like “From Here to Eternity”

And “The First Deadly Sin”

Or watching “Airplane” together

For the tenth time

Or the twentieth

Or the hundred and first

And saying the lines together

Until we laughed so hard

It hurt to breathe

Roger, roger

And don’t call me Shirley

How his love of horses

And photography

Became two of my passions

Because I wanted to be just like him

How those things we shared

Helped keep me grounded

Through all the uncertain times

I’ve been through since

His love of certain foods

Like Chinese food where everything

Is thrown together

And it all gets hot mustard

Or of burrito night

With refried beans

And being silly at the table

Because sometimes life is about being silly

And trying new things

Enjoying the heat of something spicy

And coming back to

The simple joy of

Vanilla ice cream stirred until smooth

So this year

When I call my dad

I’ll point him here

So he can read the things

I know I still won’t be able to say

When I call him up

To wish him a happy Father’s Day

Greatest Fears

Dealing with depression and anxiety

Talking with a friend

Thinking out loud

To work my way through

And the truth hits

Staggeringly hard

I list the projects

And obligations

Of time and attention and money

Then I begin the process

Of breaking it down

Figuring out

How to allocate my resources

Allocate me

One step at a time

All the while reminding myself

To just breathe

I can schedule this

I can handle that

I formulate a plan

And take another breath

Until he says, “Just do your best”.

And it hits me

What if my best

Isn’t good enough?

And I can’t breathe

It feels like I’m drowning

With the water closing in

I use the phrases

“Keeping my head above water”

Or “I’m treading water”

Because that’s how life feels to me

That feeling of struggling

To get to the surface

To gasp a lungful of air

Is a panic with which

I’m all too familiar

And still I can’t breathe

What if my best isn’t good enough?

Then what?

What if I can’t really write

And the essay sample

I have to produce for work

Truly sucks

And I don’t get this promotion?

What if it’s merely mediocre?

I’m more terrified of that.

What if it’s fine

But all my other character flaws

Come shining through?

What if I let my family down?

Oh, my god, I need to breathe!

What if I everyone figures out

That I’m making it all up

As I go along?

What if they find out

I’m a fraud?

What if my words

Are just my insecurities

Laid bare for all to see

And they end up helping no one

Least of all me?

Breathe, damn it!

What if? What if?

Whatifwhatifwhatifwhatif????

GASP…

My best may not be good enough.

But good enough for what?

Maybe not good enough

For a better job

But I’m surviving

Doing a job I love

Maybe not good enough

To quit that job

And work for myself

But I can feed my family

And myself

Maybe not good enough

That my words ever matter

To anyone else but me

But I’m writing

And more importantly

I’m breathing again

And I’m going to keep doing both

While I just do my best

 

I Wake at Five

I wake at five

Even though

I don’t really have to be up

Until six

No alarm

Just the way

My body likes

To start the day

I wake slowly

Gradually

Stretching into consciousness

So it always takes

A few blissfully moments

Before reality returns

And I roll over

Realizing

Your side of the bed

Is so cold

A few minutes

Before the memories

Of our last morning together

Come flooding back

And I am torn

Between the joy

Of those memories

And the pain

Of reality

Those memories of

How I nuzzled

Into your neck

Your sweet sleepy scent

Like honeysuckle

On a summer breeze

Memories of how you

Pulled me into you

Warm and safe

Arms so strong wrapping around

Yet holding so gently

The memory of which

Is the only definition

Of the word home

That I will ever know

That hour of bliss

Slowly rocking together

To start each day

In rapturous joy

An hour that was

The briefest moment

Of time standing still

Facing down eternity

Together

Knowing we will never

Be apart

Now I wake alone

Wishing those memories

Could warm my skin

Yet comforted by the way

They warm my heart

And after a full nights sleep

I am suddenly so tired

Grief has a way

Of perpetually exhausting

Of weighing down

The soul

Until even happy memories

Are insufficient

So even as I

Become fully awake

The cold sheets

And the empty space

Next to me

Are bittersweet reminders

And why I wish for

Just one more hour

Of blissful sleep

Writer

I watch you write

Sometimes struggling

To pull words from your brain

Sometimes struggling

To keep pace

As the words gush forth

Loving the hell outta

Your new found productivity

But all good things

Will eventually,

Come to their inevitable end

The whitewater river of words

Will slow to a trickle

The novel will end

And either way

You will

Just keep writing

Because you’re a writer

And that’s the only thing

You know how to do

The stories have to get out

They beg and scream

To be told

And you are both

Their slave

And their master

Sometimes struggling

Between the two

Always writing

Happy Birthday, Mom

I tried to not think about you today

I know it’s your birthday

And that kinda goes against the grain

But I miss you so much

Even when I’m trying not to

If I push you away from my thoughts

I can sometimes

Almost

Make it through a day

Without crying

I’ve had so many triumphs

In the past few months

Almost in spite of the sadness

So many things I’ve wanted to tell you

In the hopes that you would be proud

Even if you don’t understand

Why I’m driven to do these things

I struggled today

A couple of times

But for the most part

Made it through okay

I talked to Dad yesterday

To tell him, “Happy Birthday”

And that I love him

I couldn’t help thinking of you too

I always thought it was so cool

That your birthdays

Were side by side

But I didn’t mention it to Dad

Because he seemed happy

And I feel like I should be apologizing

For not mentioning you

And trying to not think about you today

But I know you understand

It feels both sad and strange

To miss you more now that you’re gone

Than I ever did when you were here

And I regret not working harder

To make our relationship stronger

But I know you understand this too

I’m sorry I’m crying again

Neither of us wants that

When I think of you being gone

It scares the crap out of me

I can’t imagine leaving my kids

My friends, my family

But I guess we don’t get much choice

Or you’d still be here

Celebrating your 70th

And I’d be calling you too

To tell you, “Happy Birthday”

And that I love you.