the tears brim near, waiting hovering for release. disappointment and anger become all encompassing, the water submerging me in ache.
alone again counting the nanoseconds for the next 15 hours...
so that i can be asleep and pretending like it doesn't matter.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
true til death
2/8/09 9:08pm
"compassionate treatment of those in distress"
This is the definition of mercy.
" the fact or state of being ardently dedicated and loyal"
This is the definition of devotion.
Some words have so much more power, they almost pull you to them. Enough for me to get them permanently inked into my flesh. There are changes brewing. After 7 years in NY the time has finally arrived. I am tired of the way things are now. Frustrated with the lack of hope and trapped among the drowning. A weight has lifted, the way it does after a big decision is made. Relief sets in and things seem different. Even if there is no apparent change or obvious alteration it is there just beneath the surface. A thin mist of anticipation settles over me.
"compassionate treatment of those in distress"
This is the definition of mercy.
" the fact or state of being ardently dedicated and loyal"
This is the definition of devotion.
Some words have so much more power, they almost pull you to them. Enough for me to get them permanently inked into my flesh. There are changes brewing. After 7 years in NY the time has finally arrived. I am tired of the way things are now. Frustrated with the lack of hope and trapped among the drowning. A weight has lifted, the way it does after a big decision is made. Relief sets in and things seem different. Even if there is no apparent change or obvious alteration it is there just beneath the surface. A thin mist of anticipation settles over me.
Explanation
It seems that just about everyone who is anyone has a blog. I have decided to join the ranks.
I read lots of journal like blogs about my patients and their families. I like the outlet aspect, purging thoughts through words. I have written a lot over the last 16 years, always dated and often timed. I will periodically add old writings and mix in new ramblings. I would love to really talk about my work and my experience but I must protect privacy first.
I read lots of journal like blogs about my patients and their families. I like the outlet aspect, purging thoughts through words. I have written a lot over the last 16 years, always dated and often timed. I will periodically add old writings and mix in new ramblings. I would love to really talk about my work and my experience but I must protect privacy first.
It took years to attain and a second to tear it all down
8/15/00
underneath blankets of regret you are on the brink of fading away
whisper to the past trying to remember how this began
you look all around wait so still and patient wanting so desperately for the cue
the word any chance... to prove how much you have to give
drowning in the layers of lies spit out
the door opens the wrong way on the outside permanently
if i told you this was killing me would you stop?
holding my heart in your hands choose the deepest crack
those scars are not just for show.
underneath blankets of regret you are on the brink of fading away
whisper to the past trying to remember how this began
you look all around wait so still and patient wanting so desperately for the cue
the word any chance... to prove how much you have to give
drowning in the layers of lies spit out
the door opens the wrong way on the outside permanently
if i told you this was killing me would you stop?
holding my heart in your hands choose the deepest crack
those scars are not just for show.
This Much I know is True
1/25/08
30,000 feet up...
In the washed out light of the exit door at 134 miles per hour we fly.
My fingers work quickly, tightening my forearms in upright position, creating
constructing this blanket for a new life while on my way to bury, struggle,
loss, and pain my aching myocardium. Each cell breaks often, losing so much heart tissue makes me angry, intolerant, and hopeless. End of the spectrum. Sense and logic do not enter this frame I work in. Where is my safety zone? With each death part of me disappears, leaves, or is lost in the whisps of bitter wind. What does mercy truly translate into?
The cold wraps and surges around enlarging my smallness.
I just want to make a difference.
30,000 feet up...
In the washed out light of the exit door at 134 miles per hour we fly.
My fingers work quickly, tightening my forearms in upright position, creating
constructing this blanket for a new life while on my way to bury, struggle,
loss, and pain my aching myocardium. Each cell breaks often, losing so much heart tissue makes me angry, intolerant, and hopeless. End of the spectrum. Sense and logic do not enter this frame I work in. Where is my safety zone? With each death part of me disappears, leaves, or is lost in the whisps of bitter wind. What does mercy truly translate into?
The cold wraps and surges around enlarging my smallness.
I just want to make a difference.
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