(Create a poem or short story that begins with “Hello”)
“Hello”, she stammered with every ounce of courage she could muster. Her lips trembled. The stares that silently echoed across the room created a deep and painful pit inside her stomach. After meticulously removing her gloves, she rang them tightly in her hands. The audience remained quiet, aside from the occasional toe tap from impatient men in the back of the room. Hazy smoke filled the room. Suddenly, Liz found it hard to breathe. “Alright then, let’s get this over with, shall we?”. Taking a deep breath, she began to address the Men’s Club about the concern’s of the Ladies Auxiliary. She held her chin high and made direct eye contact with cold, disappointing eyes that were glaring back at her. She expected to be taken seriously and refused to be intimidated.
If people focused more on the connections with their loved ones than they did on politics, they would be a lot happier. It’s heartbreaking to know that people feel alienated from families because gatherings become political conquests. Love bonds become broken, and we become more divided every day. The divide has moved from politics, religion, race, culture, and right into family homes.
Our sense of belonging becomes less and less as we began to feel detached and so inevitably different from those we grew to know as our family. Those qualities of goodness that we learn as a child are now the opposite of what this world represents. The terms acceptance, love, and humble have been displaced with opposition, hate, and pride.
In the big scheme of things, in life, those things we have no control over are controlling us. Those connections that we do have control over, slip away.
Divide and conquer. That’s how one group destroys a larger group. That’s what has been happening. It’s up to decide if you let it happen to you.
Last week, a daily “broadcast” of my life’s cycle (shared below) brought a reoccurring thought to my mind. It’s a thought that frequently swims through the vast oceans of my mind without permission and yields its sometimes treacherous, rippling waves through those corners of memories that remain dormant until activated.
As I age, I realize the truth behind this. However, this is not my first realization that my childhood molded the very thoughts that were most detrimental to loving myself. Through my adolescents, teenage years, and even adulthood, despite my sexuality, I disagreed with gay marriage and even feared my gay-ness. Coming to terms with the knowledge that I would “go to hell” if I allowed myself to be who I felt I was inside left me devastated and unable to relate to those around me. My heart was cracked open. I became miserable, began self-harming and crying myself to sleep at night.
There were even times in my young adolescents and adult life that I very much thought the entire world, even my family, would be much better off if I ended their misery of having a gay daughter, niece, cousin, aunt, or sibling. With that knowledge, trying desperately to fit into the mold not meant for me left me feeling uncomfortable in my skin. Life felt impossible.
Thankfully, somehow, little by little, I’ve been able to grow and become closer to the version of myself – my true self – that I am meant to be. With any luck, that growth can continue.
Writing prompt: (Let’s experiment with a poetry form today called TriCube Poetry. From Brewer, Here are the rules of tricubes:Each line contains three syllables. Each stanza contains three lines. Each poem contains three stanzas. So we’re talking cubes in mathematical terms (to the third power). No rules for rhymes, meter, etc. Just three, three, and three. ). http://www.godoggocafe.com
She peeked into the sky as if she didn’t belong. Hiding her face during the day, only to appear at dusk, in all of her magnificent, unknowing beauty. Tip toeing into the horizon, she watches for the bright fire to dim his glow as he sinks in the sky. Compared to such a bright flame, her glow feels faded and remains unnoticed. Oh, but when that bright, hot flame takes his evening leave, she is able to bloom into her full strength, opening her eyes to the world again – lighting the way for those that prefer the darkness. People gaze in awe at her beauty while she sits silently in the Universe – unaware of the way we wish to graze her surface – know her thoughts or how we wait each day just to catch another glimpse of her smile. Still the shy moon falls each morning, chased away by the fire. She waits patiently, silently for her time to shine once again.
She healed my soul with threads of herself and left the longing of her beautiful lips as she pulled away the pain and replaced it with her love.
She tucked it away into the dark corners inside of me and it lit a path to hope.
Little did I know that when she unraveled, so would the threads in which she used to stitch my soul and the lantern she left to burn would be snuffed out. Leading me back into a darkness darker than before, void of sound unlike before and full of fearful dread.