Archives for posts with tag: children

there are some truths buried so deep inside ourselves that they can only be reached by detonating all of the rock we so meticulously accumulate in hopes of protecting ourselves – when we realize what we thought was a shelter is actually a prison.

i don’t believe anyone has to accept that kind of sentence. but i’ll be the first to admit that the child inside me is content to put bright red-colored curtains over that tiny square barred window & call it my home. truly repressing and totally dismissing memories is an art easily learned as a child. i believe that is where it began and i finally found the proof i had been looking for.

so yes, there are reasons we are who we are that we have absolutely no control over. and that is very scary because the way to deal with them is elusive. we can observe them, we can fight them, we can forget them, we can hide them or we can accept them. we can place them in the forefront and put a sparkly top coat over them for everyone to see. but there is nothing we can do to make it any easier.

i don’t want to be that bitter, angry person that could never find the courage to face the demons left by those that trod on our hearts. i don’t want to keep burning the bridges that propel me forward. going back sometimes isn’t a bad thing. in fact it’s critical if you want to solidify your identity. for humans life seems so linear, but it isn’t at all. it’s organic & we are beautiful, but not without our roots. all the fruit on the tree is dependent on the roots we can’t see, and even what’s beyond that. it has everything to do with our ability to love.
-

“the harder you look, the more you’ll find…”

an archetype of love & beauty
she came to me
with universal mystery
shaping starry destiny
opening doors & setting free
no treasure map
no lock
no key

time’s true nature is apparent
each snowflake that falls
becomes the ocean
the sky
us
belonging everywhere
able to rest nowhere

you can let it go
you can walk away
you can say goodbye
you can try to deny
what it’s meant to mean

but what if you’re wrong
what if our song
is still that hum in the shower
on bright mornings
sun pouring in
that carries you through the day
and at night when you sleep
is the soundtrack behind your dreams

true
there’s no pretending
a complete cycle has been fulfilled
we were infants
gorging on magical milk
growing fast & tall & a little stronger
till we exhaled into the night
and from on top of the mountain we knew a god

but you see
there is no one victorious in love
and that light above
is not the moon
it’s not the plasticky reflection from pictures in your wallet
it’s not the flash of incoming calls on your cellphone
and it isn’t the glow from the eyes of the one who wakes in your bed
it’s all in your head
and eventually
like every living thing
it’s dead

as with most dead things
the instinct is to burn & bury
call it a day
run far trying to dull the pain
or write it away
and i’ve done that many times, too
i had my reasons
i knew my intentions
but with you it is different
and i believe there is something new
so even if i’m usually too stubborn or foolish to admit it
i do need you
-

in winter’s cold throws
the last few cinders combust
their glow fades away
the smoke floats off into the sky
an oak tree
once proud & tall
now elemental carbon
seeping down into the earth
ash mixing with dirt
one last gift of the great oak
to what will become
of the acorn it left behind

“maybe you’ve had the best of me, but…”

for k.

by JTW
©2012 JTW “jtwhitaker.com” All rights reserved.

at this point my eyes are wide open. too far maybe. and i see that cabin in the dark, the one surrounded by black mossy trees with boarded windows – charred & rusty. the grey path glows under toe.

maybe this metaphor is my mind’s way of projecting where i’ve been living the past two months into my consciousness and out here for display. or maybe it’s just a dream.

the kings stand there
stalemate
interpolate
un-emasculate
avoid probate
create a mistake

for just a few days
i’ll be back in someone else’s dreams
dust rolls around on the floor
creeps through the beams
down to jungle streams
feeding willow trees

if you believe
you may perceive
no intent to deceive
but if you want me to, i’ll leave
in the end
what we get is what we need

soft lips
certain shapes of hips
late night trips
a little thrill in the mix
call it my favorite fix

well i see more faces & butterflies
roots that go on for miles
sun dials dialing up trials
mascara and fingernail files
matthews, marks, lukes & lyles

garden wall or mountain tall
waterfall & tenant law
i put my knee in his paw
the long line of his jaw
could you see what i saw?
it doesn’t melt my heart
but it helps the chill to thaw

for just a few days
i’ll be back in someone else’s dreams
dust rolls around on the floor
creeps through the beams
down to jungle streams
feeding willow trees

if you believe
you may perceive
no intent to deceive
but if you want me to, i’ll leave
in the end
what we get is what we need

“here we are both half-starved…”

by JTW
©2011 JTW “jtwhitaker.com” All rights reserved.

artwork courtesy of bly.

it hurt a little i guess, at first. but scarcity often makes us do painful things. pain & trust, letting go of control, all necessary ingredients in the pursuit. they’re probably the whole point.

i have no delusions, save one. maybe the biggest of them all. cause we never know where this goes until it’s over. and then it just is.

not cold enough to snow, but cold enough to chill you to the bone. and rain, endless rain. it pours out over the backyard, caught by some plastic tables & chairs. i stare at my own patio chair, wooden, stolen from the kitchen set. i wonder if the laquer will hold, i wonder if it will rot. but i don’t dare bring it in. delaying the inevitable is as pointless as being mad at the sky for crying.

i vacillate between feelings of anger and feelings of pity for those that have never had to face life as a minority, a deviant.

i am angry at their judgmental discriminations and i pity their ignorance, and the love they could otherwise experience.

but more than that i shed a tear for those, who like me, have experienced the horrors of being different. those who have sustained hateful glares, whispered mocking, and the devastating compulsion to hide their true nature from the cruel eyes of the world at large.

when it became a matter of life or death for me, i escaped. but many don’t. many die never knowing how it feels to breathe free from those shackles. and i weep for them.

today, if i see a hitch-hiker i pick them up. today, i share whatever i have with my neighbors who are struggling just as i am. and they share with me.

today i wear my waterproof emancipation to the grocery store & down the main street of my small town. come here and you’ll probably spot me in bright reds & teals at the local diner. or in flip flops up on the bluff overlooking the river & mountains. or at the post office rocking a magenta t-shirt and stark rainbow colored scarf that was a gift from someone i can say i know truly loves me for every ounce of my authenticity.

sometimes people ask me if i worry what my daughter thinks of my flamboyant nature or what she’ll think of me as she gets older. they worry, with some amount of validity, that she’ll have to undergo teasing from her classmates who notice that her daddy is different.

i acknowledge that it would seem easier on her if dad were a conservative-conformist-normal. hell, childhood is hard enough without adding an eccentric father to the mix.

but my answer is always the same. teaching my daughter about love, freedom & authenticity by example is far more important to me than attempting to isolate her from every ignorant taunt and blurred gender stereotype. my hope is that my daughter will love everyone, and not for the things that make people fit in. but for the things that make us different.

after all, if we as parents don’t demonstrate tolerance by the way we live and the way we treat all people – if we continue to perpetuate the fear, hate & judgment of generations past – how can we expect our children & their children to be free of these things?

yes, i’m a minority, a deviant. and now i can say that i wear it proudly, as much for my daughter as myself.

“find your strength…”

by JTW
©2011 JTW “jtwhitaker.com” All rights reserved.

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