I heard a man exclaim how he lost an hour of his day, the pain in his voice, as the sun set later and the night stood quiet, echoed through the air. Babies and pets don't care the clocks have jumped forward, the ones looking after them walk around feeling dread. The morning starts an hour later for my body hasn't realized the time has changed overnight.
Not Alone
The books I read mirror my experience back to me, reflected in a way I wish I could say but the words never came. Every page I turn, I highlight what resonates, almost every page has a sentence that will stick with me long after I finish. The beauty of storytelling is seeing the human experience as universal. We are not alone in our journey's even when we feel like we are.
Half-Birthday
I remember walking around the playground in elementary school talking with my friend, who is still my friend today, about half-birthdays. She imagined celebrating a birthday in May while I dreamed of celebrating in February. I pictured blowing out candles in winter and having a party for the fun of it. A half year of living is always worthy of a slice of cake. Every year on the 25th of February, I think of this memory and smile. Oh to be young, imagining the unsung celebrations that do not happen but having them stick in my brain as a memory anyway.
Joy In The Air
Birds chirp on a Sunday snow is finally melting the wave of cold weather haunting us all year leaving us shivering in sweaters and muddy boots has finally let up. The songs they sing fills the air with joy and the morning with hope.
Love Is…
Love is a loud room, people cheering over some stupid game and you look over at your person and everything else fades away. Love is a safe place, a space where you don't hide like you do the rest of the time. Love is a feeling like no other, it's why love songs are so popular and every writer tries to describe their perspective on the matter. Love is searching, losing, finding, keeping. Love isn't just romance, love is family, love is friends, love is pets, love are the ones who we put up with because we know at the end of the day we're better be- cause of them than without them. Love is many reasonable reasonings and crazy thinkings we cannot explain with a twist of fate that led us to buy into a holiday we used to hate. True love seems rare, but it's there if you know your own worth and who you choose, who you would rather not lose. Needless to say, love isn't a day, filled with candy and hearts and flowers, it's a feeling you feel, the person, the people you come back to, the ones you love, each person has their own definition for how it changes their space, their time, and place. Love is a poem too long. Love is listening to your heart, feeling your hand in theirs, the ones you hug before your sleep. Love is a quiet night, feeling how small you are on earth when looking out at the stars, at the overwhelming universe feeling your love is a cliche of overused lines no one has been able to fully describe how you feel. But it is real.
Self-Doubt
Writing is as natural to me as breathing. It's how I make sense of my thoughts and reality. I place my thoughts on lines in my journal, it's where they're safe. I write with messy handwriting, though I'd say it's become more legible over the years. I am a writer, I am a poet but somewhere along the way I lost the creativity that once drove me. I catch sparks of it now and then, jotting down a creative line in my notes, but the flame has remained dim for a few years now. Am I a writer if I don't write? Am I a writer if I have nothing to say? These are the questions that live in my brain, destroy my thoughts to keep my creativity at bay. The doubt keeps me stagnant and quiet. The flame that burnt out years ago, where did it go? I miss it, I try to relight it but without a match, I leave it alone.
First Month Almost Finished
Two days left of the first month of this new year. Third year of the 20s, ninth year of my 20s. Seems like too many years since the pandemic started and at least ten extra years on to the last decade of my life. It’s been a very cold and gloomy start to the year. I’ve heard more remarks about cold days than warm ones. Unusual where I live, we normally see more fluctuation in temperature this month Cold and snow, we still have snow from last year Sheets of ice on the dead grass unable to melt The sun is out for too little time before more snow falls on top of it once more. Maybe we’ll see blue sky for more than a day, Maybe next month the iced over snow from last year will get to melt away.
Self-Talk
The way we talk to ourselves reflects how we view ourselves. We often do it without thinking, the little comments that fall out of our mouths whispered under our breath are quickly forgotten as we move from one moment to the next swept up by the busyness of the day. Only when we become aware of the words we speak and the tone we use can we begin to change. I am strong. I am powerful. I am unique. I am brave.
Cold Winter
Ice stays on the road for weeks. More snow falls, melting on the main roads quickly, remaining on the side ones building on the bumps that have remained since last year.
Weird Balance
Another year, another booster, Another reminder to stay healthy. Three years into this pandemic, And things are forever changed. People continue to wear masks Below their noses and coughing, Annoys me to no end. I don’t say anything, but internally I am judging. I don’t care If you don’t wear a mask, I don’t usually wear a mask. But if you wear one Because you’re sick, All I ask if that you wear It over your nose too. It’s a weird balance between Returning to what we always knew Until someone we know gets it. And then it’s going through The motions hoping No one else will catch it.
Kelly Severseike 