Archives for posts with tag: pain

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 “” All rights reserved.

once in awhile something comes along that is stronger than the sum of its parts – a hidden force driving a purpose that can’t be seen by our eyes, not from here anyway.

but from somewhere else, far enough away, the dots start to breathe life into a picture of us – a funny love story – strong & true.

released to go way down
deep inside my soul to feel
where come out the right lines
inked up red with heal

but it might not be this sunday
other stuff i have to do
no songs written
preparing me for you

in the past i could just listen
they would speak through me
call it taking the easy way
yeah, now i see
it may be

still it won’t be this sunday
with other stuff i have to do
but if no songs are written
i’ll mean nothing to you

i watch roadmaps in movies
i look ahead to where it’s going
can i harness the sail
and ride the wind that is blowing

once upon a rhyme
once upon a time
one flew over the cuckoo’s nest
one sentence placed right here
sentencing me to death

but it might not be this sunday
other stuff i have to do
unless you put me on the block
and let it slice through

then it wouldn’t be at my hand
that dreams are born & slain
should you deliver me, please
to love & pain

“it’s bloody to reach boldly…”

by JTW
©2011 JTW “” All rights reserved.

there are a million ways to spin a line; endless threads woven from complexity in the pursuit of balance, what is true & right and a ratio that’s always on my mind.

i helped it for a long time but some things can’t be helped forever. so if you listen, listen carefully. for it’s what is and what was and what still will be. it’s fear & hope. it’s truth and it’s love.

and when i laid there and wondered why, every time, why does it have to be so difficult? well it was just where i was, where i had been and where i was going. the way you can see glimpses of a rainbow in a thunderstorm and drive and drive and still never reach it.

sometimes, at the very worst moments, i see myself in her fear. i see the way i lived and in her eyes i see the horror & pain i faced. the internal struggles. fear, guilt and even a kind of love. a lot of sadness. and there’s nothing i can do but hold her in those moments. i can try to make it right but the damage had already been done long ago, long before this world.

my only solace is that she won’t remember most of it. the mind has a funny way of doing that. i haven’t really decided if it’s good or bad. but i guess it’s necessary. life must go on. anyway there’s a special time for that in your late 20s/early 30s.

and it will go on. it’ll make us crazy. but that’s just something you have to accept, embrace even. a little insanity never hurt anybody, if it’s acknowledged & accounted for. and that’s where i come in. i will champion it until my dying breath because my only prayer is that she lives. one hundred percent. and the saving grace is that truth cannot be denied, truth sets you free, love is truth.

she hears it, she sees it. more than that she feels it & knows it. so i take responsibility for what i can affect and leave the rest in more capable hands.

flashes of guidance in a split-second will change your life forever. as they come & go, each one leaves an impression, like a pan of bread in an oven heated up slowly. as it gets hotter & hotter the pan constricts & contracts. for a time they’re almost one.

and each of us bakes a different way. each of us are left out of a different mould. i guess the trick is to fill every cranny, to rise full and come out with just the right crisp & gold.

i wasn’t sure i’d even write the first one. i hadn’t written any in a long time, a very long time. i wasn’t sure if the effort would be reciprocated. but that didn’t really matter and when i grasped the pen in my hand with a purpose and wrote the first one i knew it was special. i knew it was right. i knew it was love.

it’s dark and he’s late on his way to where he’s supposed to be. but he’s passing it anyway so he might as well stop.

his shoulders are slumped. his neck aches. how many hours has it been? how many trips did he have to make? how many miles yet to drive? what time do we have to be up?

there won’t likely be anything there. why would he bother?

he walks slowly, trying to deny the hope padding the steps up the sidewalk and around the corner.

a few more zig-zags. stands there and contemplates the insanity of putting the key in, for this.

puts it in anyway. turns it. pulls.

“stripping back the coats…you can depend on it…”

by JTW
©2011 JTW “” All rights reserved.


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 84 other followers

%d bloggers like this: