Tag: jeannie Bruenning

It’s too late,
I heard her say
And I felt my world
Crumble a little

It can’t be
There’s time
There has to be 
More time
I’ve been waiting…

I’ve been waiting…
I heard myself say

Waiting for what?
Waiting on who?
And how long 
has this been 
going on?

All my life!
My heart responds
As the pillars 
of my life
Come crashing down

I have been waiting…

Waiting for someone to notice
To acknowledge
And recognize
To fix all the broken pieces
And make my world right

Waiting feels like hope
But it is not

Waiting keeps me 
out of today
And puts me in 
a fictitious narrative
One that I have 
no control in writing

Simply waiting
Isn’t simple 

It also isn’t very hope-filled
It’s the giant pause button
We press that brings
Us to a standstill
Unable to take the next step  

But if it is too late
And I can stop waiting
What will become of me?

Perhaps 
I will begin to take notice
To acknowledge
And recognize

Maybe
I will pick up the pieces 
of my own world
And create a new one
Written with a new narrative 

One that isn’t
based on waiting
But on living.

I am ready
An arsenal of words
Organized for impact

I am right!
You are wrong!
I’m will show you the
 errors of your way.

Then…
The sun rose over the hills
The dainty green leaves
Of the Pepper Tree
Danced in its warmth.

Birds flew over
Delighting in all the
Night’s rain had uncovered.

Why do I need you to
Think - my way
Believe - my way
Live - my way

No other creature does this
They just live -

True, they may eat you
And this is always an option

But in the light of day
The beauty of the red flower
The boldness of the cactus
And the gentleness of the sage

My duty of righteousness
Turned to gratitude 
My arsenal of words
Turned to song
And my anger
To joy

It's 5 AM and 75 degrees
The stars sparkle across the sky 
Shining just enough light 
To make the palm trees look scary. 

There's a gentle breeze,
but it does not cool.
In the distance, 
windows begin to illuminate
as wake over-takes sleep 

There’s a sound of nature
In the distance,
the four-legged type, 
and the domestic creatures take note. 

What will this day hold? 
Work and school 
Family and kids 

Life will take hold soon
and if we aren't careful, 
May consumer us. 

My friends grandfather may take his last breath today, 
Yet, there will be others who will take their first. 

A few more windows illuminate
and a few less stars are visible.

In a short while, 
the sun will begin to glow 
from behind the hills
Its’ blaze will extinguish the stars.
 
But at this moment,
it's 75 degrees -
and the stars sparkle across the sky.

The voices of disapproval
Echo in my head.

Your voice is there
Telling me I’m not good enough
That’s it’s my fault
That I’m the one to blame.

The sound plays in a loop
Like a broken record
But there’s no one 
To remove the needle.

The voices of shame
Smother me
Preventing me
from stepping out.

The voices of disappointment
Stop me from trying,
They talk about what 
Should have -
Could have -
But didn’t.

Though not audible to others
They are deafening to me.

I fight them
Try to ignore them
Put them in a box 
And hide them.

But they ooze out
Like a warm, sticky glue
Clogging up my brain space.

I don’t know why I listen
I don’t know why I care

Yet, I wait for someone to 
Pick up the needle 
And bring it to an end.

There is another voice in my head
It’s always been there
It’s quiet and gentle
Easily drowned out

Rarely does it shout
Never does it interrupt
I can only hear it 
In the quiet.

Today, as I sat identifying 
All the other voices
And contemplating my demise
I found a piece of quiet.

Today, my other voice
Gently instructed,
“Pick up the needle 
And get on with it!”