Anniversary

Here's to another year,
One more revolution.
I think I've been here before,
No, just another time, another place.

The clock has ticked away
Each second like a punch
Against my tear blackened eyes.
In my dreams we're able to say good-bye.

It's your anniversary.
Once again you say good-bye.
You'll do it better next time
And, I think, so will I.

Maybe another time
And in some other place
We'll be together again;
Until then, happy anniversary.

Part 1: Journey to Maine

I'm tired of the random spurts of poetry I've been posting on here. It's time to get back to the original purpose of this blog, which is to write about how I got to where I am now. I've always wanted to write about my travels, or whatever, since last summer when I returned from Maine. That's what this is for:

I've never thought of myself as brave. I still don't. Before I tried moving to Maine, though, I was chatting online with someone I knew from high school. She and I talk maybe once a year and it's now been a good two or three years since we last saw each other. When I told her about my plans to move to the North East she told me she thought me and my twin sister have always been brave.

In high school I was painfully insecure that I always saw the "popular" kids as the brave ones. Even when I moved away to college and nearly every one else went only as far as an hour or two from where we grew up. Out of a class of thirty only four went out of state and three stayed out of state.

 Maine was an adventure. I was really excited when I learned I got the job at Acadia Shop. I'd be moving to Bar Harbor and from there it'd be smooth sailing to get acquainted with the state, figure out where I wanted to live and learn what I wanted to do with my life. I just knew it had to be out there and with a degree in Literature the possibilities on the East coast were endless! Yeah, that was more than naïve. I'm not sure I've ever been so wrong about anything in my entire life.

 I'm not exactly superstitious. I make wishes at 11:11, I knock on wood, but they're more things I do for assurance. I don't disregard magic entirely even though it isn't something I believe in anymore, but I still like to think that magic is what science can't explain (like why bumble bees can fly). Anyways, the entire road to Maine was covered in bad omens. I could say it even began when I started to pack. I had those vacuum seal bags and almost right away one ripped. That was just stupid. I used it anyway and jammed everything into my tiny car. The fact that it was hell to get everything inside is not a sign itself. Anyone who has packed up everything to move somewhere knows how difficult it is to make everything fit. But the drive to my mom's was almost going to be completely on the interstate. I had chosen to drive through South Dakota instead of Nebraska so I could stop in Wall on the way to see my Father figure and his wife (Ken and Karen). The visit was way too short, but it was good. It was strange to hear a father figure telling me he wished I wasn't going so far away, but he was glad I was doing my own thing. It was something that, until then, I wasn't used to. It made me not want to go, but I'm not one to want to be near family. It's easier to love my family from a distance. At the time Ken was like a dad, but not quite there yet. It's still surprising to me how close we came in our first four months of working at Wall Drug together, despite everything.

 Even though it was difficult to say good-bye I got on the road. I was headed East, a direction that, after I left home, I'd hoped to never travel in again unless it was for visits (most of my family lives east of me). But there I was going against my most recent plans. This was what I had wanted to do before going to Chadron, NE for college. I had hooped to go to Maine to study. It was far away and in the region where most early American Literature was set. Although, after studying American Literature in college I'm no so impressed by what the writers spat out.

 So, Chadron it was. That took me twelve hours from either parent, but still within driving distance so I'd get the car and it was easier on my wallet. Manette was going just three hours further than me in the opposite direction (to Edinboro, PA), so she'd have to fly.

 I was living the original dream, going to Maine. I had few problems getting to my mom's in Strawberry Point, IA. I saw a lot of red wing black birds when I got to East River, SD. The birds themselves aren't a bad omen, just the fact that they're black and black traditionally is a bad sign was enough to put me on edge. Of course, I just told myself I was being silly and kept driving. I stopped in Mitchell, SD to eat at Culver's. I'd always heard a lot about them and wanted to give it a try. I didn't see anything special in it, to be honest. It was a burger and a shake. Big deal. But, it probably marked the first of many disappointments to come.

This House

If this house could talk;
If the walls would speak
And the stairs didn't creak,

Would you hear its wooden tone?
The whispers at night,
It's voice so slight

And careful not to wake
Each child from their dreams
Where nothing is as it seems.

What if the walls rose up?
Became a fortress to shield
And forcing the enemy to yield.

As it grew higher and prouder
Its legs would carry it far away
Just to keep danger at bay.

The hills would make way for it
They'd give this mighty house a road
And help to guard its fragile load.

Imagine the secrets it'd share,
The stories it'd have to tell
If you'd just stop to listen well.

What if the house had voice?
Would you give it yours for a day
Just to hear what it had to say?

11:11

Time ticking away from the
Wish that was made
Eleven on the hour,
Eleven minutes passed.

For the hour will not last.
To wait is to
Want is to feel
Each second ticking by.

Knowing that time doesn't lie.
The clock just stares
With its open face mounted
From its perch on the wall.

Mimi, cry

Mimi, cry in the room just like mine
As we look into each other's eyes
I see she feels my pain, knows my heart
Through she never speaks, she always listens.
How I hate when Mimi cries.

But she sheds her tears for me
Her face becomes blotchy red so mine will not.
I get distracted and look past her
All the things in her room are in mine
As far as I can see when Mimi cries.

I only see her over the bureau
And beyond that is the wall and nothing else.
There is no way in and now way out.
She is trapped somewhere in that space.
Perhaps that is why I always see Mimi cry.

Ravens

Carrion across the atmosphere
So thick without breath here;
Only suffocation without life
And eyes swimming in a scarlet sea.

Reaching wings, mangled feathers of the kite
Dusted black, fall like night,
And a dying echo of a cry
Haunts the air, but never leaves my side.

A warning to the people, death has
Gone and come to pass.
Near the distance life abounds and dies
With no end and no way to begin.

A whisper, a moment and the sight
Cannot prevent the flight
Of the shroud that comes to eat the day
Where life doesn't live to know and die.