long exposure , two poems

Night sky and Lake:

As above,
so below
two washes of color
indigo tinged with 
sunset's golden gleam
one rippled
as though a stone were tossed
into the heart of still water
but the lake is the still
serene as my heart
it is the sky
rippled infinity
streaked with stars
ring around ring 
of endless light
that reaches to the edge of my sight
and continues on.

Firefall:

Firefall
streaks of light like arrows
raining down
on dim rocks
and gleaming eyes
they last forever in mind's eye
remaining burned into retinas
a flash of silver-gold
on a dome of diamond dusted velvet

Skipping Stones

Skipping Stones 

She skipped stones

across the sun-stared river

and each stone was a prayer

for the stream and the sun

and the sand,

warm under bare feet.

She sent out stones like

letters in a bottle

to some unseen being

in whom she puts all her trust

and love.

She grew, and clouds came

sticks and jagged rocks clogged the stream.

Her tears made ripples on the surface

Murky water.

She returns, or perhaps

never left

but all the same she picks up a stone

feeling its weight

the cold against her palm

and tosses it 

half heartedly 

into the water

Splash. Another and another

until her stones are shouts, begging

answer, please, I can’t-

I’m no small child skipping stars

I need more than a dead stream

and sinking stones

I need, I need- You. Please.

This stones sinks

quiet as her whispered prayer

slips out to the sea, slips into the sky.

Her fingers, red and white

blotchy with cold

scrabble in the sand

find another stone, the last

and desperately she sinks to her knees

flicks her wrist. Skip

ripple

skip

And then the stone

Returned

warm, sitting in her palm

blazing with a word.

Stigma

Note: these are real quotes from people when I tell them I'm Bipolar.

I still like you anyway.

I never would have known.

Really, but you don’t seem-

These are things that ring in my ears

comforts you offer unthinkingly

as if who I am

what I’m telling you like I tell anyone

is something to be ashamed of-

I still like you anyway

and unspoken,

I like you even though you’re broken,

bipolar

a freak just like the play yard bullies said.

because I’m supposed to hide and deny the light-dark inside me

that rules me day and night

which will it be, hope or despair?

I never would have known

or cared to know,

not really.

All those tears and fits of running, begging to be alone

not normal

no, you did and still

try to fix with words  

what cannot be fixed by anything

but miracles of modern medicine

really? but you don’t seem-

Seem like what, the thing that media says I am

violent, flick a switch to peace

and then in a heartbeat, craving the blade

then sunshine?

you think you know so much, from the word you use

to describe erratic weather

that is not who I am

I am bipolar

hypomanic

a constant struggle that lasts with winners for days 

and then an upset

I’m the flag stolen by the other team

a no kill battle between mania and sorrow

and I don’t know who I want to win

because in the light I crave shadow

get away from blinding bright

and in the night I need

a star,

just one,

light my way

but no

denied that by biology

and by society deny the whole of it

pretend that it’s not pills that keep me 

from imploding and exploding

in a shower of dark fire

I still like you anyway

is what you said when I told you the whys of my life

I never would have known

because you seem so normal

so sane,

not like the killers on late night television

or in bad novels

the change your mood with a remote control 

characters

they aren’t reality.

I am.

see me as I am, the dark light inside me

both the condition and the soul.

really, but you seem

No.

I seem like me

the hyper happy drowning in despair girl I’ve always been

now you know there’s just a name to it

not just too much sugar

or a bad day

I am Bipolar

Hypomanic

keep your pity in your own heart

I don’t need it.

This is not something I am ashamed 

to call a part of me

not something to hide 

I don’t need you to keep me from

 the stigma you see my diagnosis as.

Why should putting a name to my condition

change your heart about me

or my heart

about itself?

Trek

Trek

Nearer My God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!

E’en though it be a cross that raiseth me.

Not a cross but a mountain

Melissa Corey Peak.

This is what I climb

What brings me nearer.

Nearer to Thee

Still all my song shall be, 

nearer my God to Thee!

Up we walked, pulling all our worldly

possessions 

for the weekend, anyway

behind us in creaking wood

rutted wheels

Though like the wanderer;

the sun gone down.

Only not, the sun beats at us

not black and blue but pink

sticking white gold shirts to our backs

caked with trail dust.

Darkness be over me,

 my rest a stone.

I am stone, only

stone wouldn’t hurt so much

aching fingers as I pull

pull

pull

Yet in my dreams I’d be 

Nearer my God, to thee.

No waking dreams, no distractions.

Beside me, a girl lets go of the cart

moaning about hurting hands.

Throat dry, I try to tell a story

but the words run out of my head

like water from my empty bottle.

There let the way appear

steps unto Heaven.

Steeper than before, dust so thick

my feet have no purchase

we slide back two steps for every three.

All that Thou sendest me, 

in mercy given.

Peppermint candy from one hand-made pouch

sets my mouth on fire

I need the sweet, something to rinse

the dust from my mouth.

Angels to beckon me

nearer my God, to Thee.

We are separated, Pa leaves

And the brothers.

So sisters lean forward on the bar

on the backboard

with all their loosing strength

Women’s pull.

I am weaker than I have ever been

Weaker than flu or fever ever left me

Or if on joyful wing

Cleaving the sky;

I am so stooped that hemline

and bonnet strings both reach 

the dust.

I am breathing it, part of me

but still the sky seems to near.

If I could reach one hand  away

from my burden

I could feel its silk.

Sun, moon, and stars forgot

upwards I fly.

Around me, we ache

each leg and arm straining

so weak

but never in my life have I felt

Stronger.

I am made of thin bones and strands of muscle

small and low

but my feet keep skidding forward

through dust and stone.

Still all my song shall be

nearer my God, to Thee.

It is not a song, really

but a cough, choking words

with some faint tune

We are not a choir of angels

but dust covered girls

weak and strong

breathing out and in-

Nearer my God, To thee-

nearer, to Thee!