Wednesday, March 24, 2010

another kind of normal


What is this life if, full of care, we have no time to stop and stare?"
--W.H. Davies

I read {this}
and it literally hurts me to think I spend day upon day
hours linked like paper chains
over and over
at a desk
in a room with no windows
missing the sunshine
and the cloudy fog that suspends itself over
almost-spring days like it does today.

I am a city girl.
A suburb girl at the very least,
yet when I read this, and
I ache for nature and long walks and puddles and little fingers that pick up
leaves and rocks and everything.

I ache for mid-week days that allow for walks before the light is out for the night
for seeing the sunshine in my kitchen
for cooking before the day is nearly done.
for so many things that I could list like a liturgy
I could write them out with a tired hand.
maybe I will.
maybe I will to understand what I have to look forward to

onday I will be able to open a book at a time other than 15 minutes before bed
I will be able to sip coffee from something other than a styrofoam cup
I’ll have the chance to write with the sun reflecting off my windowsill
words that mean something to me
words that don’t suck me dry and leave me for crust at the end of the day
burnt, stale, cold crust of a life.

I should make a list
put ink to paper to remember
when oneday comes and the monotony of some new life
leaves me feeling the way I do now,
I can remember
the way I feel right now and all
the things I’m waiting to do.

*Curtis will read this and say this is my depression speaking. 
I say I'm just ready for another kind of normal.


Marisa said...

"burnt, stale, cold crust of a life."

i'm pretty sure we're (depressed) soul sisters. hahaha.

i couldn't have expressed it better.

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