I started playing Christmas Music in early November. I listen to it while I write, I write wherever the music takes me. I see Christmas lights being put up earlier this year. We put ours up this weekend, A reminder of how odd this year has been. The Christmas spirit brings people comfort. Comforts have been a necessity when everything In life remains up in the air.
If you're a polar bear, you see differently. You see beauty in the ordinary, Details in the smallest of places, You visualize instead of problem solve. You're a poet, writer, artist, painter. You strive to show your perspective Through the work you create. Creating art comes as naturally as breathing. You can see polar bears around an ice hole. I am a polar bear.
There were people dancing in the streets All over the states on Saturday. A collective sigh of relief was had by those Who had been filled with anxiety And fear for the last four years. Anticipation for normalcy and steadiness, Instead of divineness and unpredictability Expanded quickly as music started playing, And cars started honking. Crowds gathered with masks on To cheer for the news that change is coming. A right to celebrate after a long week Of staring at screens and refreshing Twitter. Eagerly waiting for confirmation that indeed Biden would be our next President. It's a sign that so many people are ready For someone who lead for all of us, Not just those who support him.
The moon shining in through the window, bright as the sun at noon. I capture this photo with my phone that doesn't have night mode. It looks more like a painting than an actual photograph. The colors are muted through the lens looking into the darkness. The outline of the room still appears in tact. The night sky is lighter, the mirror is visible. The line of light on the floor, a strip of the moon in late October. The other strip on the wall above the old-fashioned phone. A moment of simplicity captured during a chaotic time in our history.
When snow blankets the earth, life quiets. Stepping outside feels like the volume You never notice has been turned down. The only sound you hear is your steps Making a path that will melt When it meets the sun. The night brings light to the darkness When the full moon bounces off the snow, It creates a view that's rarely seen, Especially by non-night owls. It's quieter when the stars are out, The few souls brave enough to Venture out have said goodnight.
I bite my tongue to not make a remark I will regret. I taste blood without feeling the pain of the pinch. It will heal, forming a scar on my tongue I will never see. Keep the peace. Keep the peace. Keep the peace. It's the only mantra that keeps me sane. You confuse respect with aggression. Look, I don't mean to judge you. I am trying hard not to. I didn't engage in this conversation for a debate. The things running through my head that I will never say. I have no choice but to be the bigger person. To not engage when I really want to. Because I know this conversation isn't productive. Two opposing sides rarely see eye to eye. One person's wisdom is another person's lie. You're trying to get me to agree with you, To see that your way of life is superior to mine. I don't know who told you that when I am doing just fine. If this wasn't your intention, to let me know Your thinking is the only way to think, I am truly sorry. We just live in two different realities. It's funny, isn't it? How the definition of respect changes With every person you talk to? You've shown me my feelings don't matter to you. The scar on my tongue will break open When I bite harder to hold back my feelings.
Autumn crisp Changing leaves Drives with no destination Long walks while listening to audiobooks Chapters ending on cliffhangers Episodes ending on cliffhangers Inclusivity in TV shows Books I can't put down Listening to old songs Discovering new songs Talking to friends over FaceTime Writing down my feelings Meditating without distractions Beautiful sunsets, rare moons Stars in a clear sky Forgetting to check my phone Turning off the news Sticking with what I believe in Voting early by mail
Today is the first day of mail-in voting in CO. This morning I dropped off my ballot at a drop-off box. This evening, I got an email saying my ballot was accepted. Do you have a plan to vote? Have you voted yet?
“I’m the vice president of panic, and the president is missing.”
– Paige Lewis
My right eye is filling up with water As soon as it meets the morning light. I am afraid to look at today's news. I wonder which version of events are worth clinging to. I want to remember this moment like a bad dream I misremembered, though I am certain I secured every detail accurately. Which reality do you choose live in today? The one where everything is fine? Or a lie? Birds singing as the President waves to his supporters As they react like they're seeing The Beatles drive by. Or the one where uncertainty lingers heavy in the air, Like waiting on rain you are unsure is coming. I prefer the one closest to the facts Often labeled by some as fake news. Church bells ring at the top of every hour, No one in the church on a Monday, The thought has faded whether people enter on a Sunday. It's against the rules to gather in crowds indoors. Some people choose ignore the reality we're in. Partying like rebellious teenagers who Ignored their mothers' when they said to stay home. Not wearing a mask like it's a sign of strength To go against the grain of public health and safety. This would normally be labeled as denial, Instead, it's choosing the reality most comfortable for you. I check Twitter to find yet another person In the White House has tested positive. My right eye is now overflowing with water, A perk of recovering eyes that cry Without telling me what's the matter.
Times slowed down as the noise grew loud. I looked back at my mom, she was covering her ears with her hands. "Wow, that's a very loud truck," she yelled. Suddenly, I looked up and there was a plane right above us. "Look!" I yelled and pointed to what I was seeing. It looked like the plane was falling out of the sky. It looked like an old military plane I'd see in history textbooks in high school. Black with propellers on the wings. Time froze as we froze, unsure of what to do. It felt like it was there for longer than it was. The plane continued to graze the tree tops as it flew away from us. We paused and looked at each other. "Clearly, we would hear a boom if it crashed," my mom said. We waited a few seconds for a boom, but we didn't hear anything. We were close to the bottom of the mountain. We walked a little faster down the trail. People in the parking lot were talking about the plane. "Airplane, low. Airplane, low." A toddler repeated. Good to know we weren't alone, I thought.