It Is Winter

This is not an incredible poem but I was feeling a little neglectful of the blog and thought I might shoot this up there mostly to make me feel better. I regret not writing more but with the album about to come out it has been harder than I would have thought to find time to write.

Either way, I don't want you to feel concerned about the content of the poem. I'm not depressed but winter to me is depressing so it seem suitable to write in such a way that I expressed that.



It is winter
And I find now that I feel my breathe
I find now that I am more or less
I find now what I lost

It is winter
And all the memories come too
All the sadness and bliss
All the time

And in my heart the breadth of these days
Does not exist on the same plain
As the rest

It is not higher nor lower
But I am different
I am changed

It is winter
And everyone thinks warm thoughts
Everyone thinks of summer
Everyone but me

Me who wonders only how she
Can move toward being
better

If only it were possible
To ignore the cold
and just live

One more memory

I've been writing a song... unbelievable I know but this one I'm especially excited about.  

A couple days ago I had this memory pop into my mind.  It was one of my first memories and one of the happiest I've known since.  

My dad used to have this old, green mg complete with torn vinyl seats and rusty floors.  It was incredible.  As broken down as it was I still wish we had that car.  

Being the only girl of four, I didn't get much time with my dad so when he suggested going for a ride in his rust bucket of a vehicle I jumped at the opportunity.  He was taking me for a ride in the mg and I was going to sit in the front seat with my hands gripping the door handle and window all the way down just to let the breeze run wildly through my hair.  I wasn't even tall enough to see out the window.  The only thing in view from my sticky throne was the sky and some branches and I thought to myself, "This is heaven - my dad by my side and nothing to see but sky".  It felt like I was flying. 

I've never told my dad how much that day meant to me and it was easy to forget when other car rides piled on top of it - car rides to ballet, to lacrosse, to choir, to band, car rides to college and back, car rides with difficult questions to answer.

That ride was the beginning of many but it embodies the unique relationship this man and I share.  

It's protection.  It's challenging.  It's inspiring.  It's what I needed when I didn't want it.  It's realizing there is someone else just like me who doesn't care whether I failed a test or whether I sing the right words to Paul Simon songs.  It's the feeling of knowing there is someone riding right beside you who looks at the world the same way you do and treasures the view from an old car.

Long ago we got rid of the car and on that day my dad and I both cried.

Here it is:

It's the first time I'm going with you

It's the first time I'd even dare

The whole world passes by without a care

Gonna breathe it all in I swear

I'm too small they say

for the will that drives me on

I'm too wild they say

to contend as just a pawn

so I'll go, go, go until I'm gone

My happiest day would be 

not seeing what's ahead

The two of us not knowing where it's gonna end

and our futures charging the wind

I don't know the way

to live life on my own

I'm afraid to

race on all alone

but I still go, go, go until I'm gone

It's time that I hate

It's what's done me in

Oh the line we must walk all of us balancing

but if I look at you I forget where I've been

and we go, go, go until we're gone

Years ago, when I was a little girl, I remember my mother reading me this poem. Its simplicity struck me.  Its meaning was attainable to me even at a young age and it was poignant to me then though I still do not know why.  

Thinking back, I believe that was the beginning of my love of poetry - the rhythm, the meter, the mystery, the misinterpretation.  The whole experience was magical to me.  So, in light of this memory I thought that I might post it to help us all remember the joy of words and the beauty they bring to our lives.

Bed In Summer

In winter I get up at night

and dress by yellow candle light.

In summer quite the other way

I have to go to bed by day

I have to go to bed and see

the birds still hopping in the trees

and hear the grown up people's feet

still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you

when all the sky is clear and blue

and I should like so much to play

to have to go to bed by day?

-Robert Louis Stevenson