i’m not who I was

is the moment frozen in the Grecian Urn
that Keats wirtes about and
that every artist dreams about:
The convergence of the made and its maker –
of the idea and the pencil to paper…
Of 10:35 PM on a warm May night
having finally been captured between
the beginning of the “lasts” of senior year
and the start of the “firsts” of a new unknown life.

The cluster of boys sitting in
desks not far from me
discuss last night’s game and
mock team mates and
brag about stats and
talk shit on opposing teams. 
I listen to the vibrations of their voices and 
can see their cropped blonde heads of hair
and the broadness of their shoulders
underneath their shirts. 

I glance their way and catch
parts of their conversations
which I can make no sense of. 
As my face journeys from their
conversation on the right of me,
to the whiteboard in front of me, and then
to the lined paper on the desk beneath me,
the match inside me strikes.
Simply and innocently
in my mind I realize I like boys.

It must have been only the second or third day when Ms. Hennessy, in her vibrant spirit, excitedly shared with me what had been shared with her. It was called “The Dash.” “You know, like the line between two dates or years,” she explained then turned to her computer screen in search of the poem.

She then read it aloud as I stood in front of the white board, in the process of some mundane task. And though its words were simple and perhaps cliché, and its rhyme scheme a little too sing-song for me, those words only motivated to listen closer; though its last lines were easily predictable, and its theme overly-used, there could have been no simpler and more striking a way to present such an idea.

As Ms. Hennessy’s voice became quiet at the last word and her hand moved from its place on the mouse, she swiveled her chair and faced me. Already my eyes were watering and she gave mention of what I was already thinking, “And of course when I read it I thought of Cara, and Nadia.”

….

The Dash

I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning to the end

He noted that first came the date of her birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years

For that represents all the time
That she spend alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.
 
 For it matters not how much we own;
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left,
That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read
With your life’s actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?

- Linda Ellis
http://www.lindaslyrics.com/thedashpoem.html

….

Now I sit on the hard, maroon and gold colored bleaches in the gym listening to Dr. Hansen read those same words. The whole class of ‘08 is seated there and listening with me… And he challenges us all, “This year is your dash: ‘07 dash ‘08. … After this year you will leave, but if you instill your values in one of those Freshman, your legacy will live on for another three years.”

In the closing words before we sing the Alma Mater, Mr. Frost reminds us, “Before you know it, you will be in this gym preparing for graduation.” And I cover my face with my hands in amazement and fear and a bit of sorrow as my mind revisits the memory of standing in the gym last year as a Junior escort with all those Seniors giddy for graduation, and thinking that this year, 2008, it will be me. But between today and that day, from September 4, 2007 - June 10, 2008, there is a dash - my dash. And I will make my dash represent something. Something that I can look back on and be proud of.

There comes a time,
around this time every year,
when you just feel like doing
Absolutely Nothing – 
Doing absolutely nothing
but wasting time. 
Yet of course,
those days always
turn out to be the days
when you are required to do
Everything.

And that’s when you know
that Summer is coming.

It must have been only the second or third day when Ms. Hennessy, in her vibrant spirit, excitedly shared with me what had been shared with her. It was called “The Dash.” “You know, like the line between two dates or years,” she explained then turned to her computer screen in search of the poem. She then read it aloud as I stood in front of the white board, in the process of some mundane task. And though its words were simple and perhaps cliche, and its rhyme scheme a little too sing-song for me, as Ms. Hennessy’s voice flowed along with those words I was only motivated to listen closer. Though its last lines were easily predictable, and its theme overly-used, there could have been no simpler and more striking a way to present such an idea.

As Ms. Hennessy’s voice became quiet for lack of additional lines to read, and her hand moved from its place on the mouse, she swiveled her chair and faced me. Already my eyes were watering and she gave mention of what I was already thinking, “And of course when I read it I thought of Cara, and Nadia.”

….

I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning to the end

He noted that first came the date of her birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years

For that represents all the time
That she spend alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.

 For it matters not how much we own;
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left,
That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read
With your life’s actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?

- Linda Ellis
http://www.lindaslyrics.com/thedashpoem.html

….

Now I sit on the hard, maroon and gold colored bleaches in the gym listening to Dr. Hansen read those same words. The whole class of ‘08 is seated there and listening with me… And he challenges us all, “This year is your dash: ’07 dash ‘08. … After this year you will leave, but if you instill your values in one of those Freshman, your legacy will live on for another three years.”

In the closing words before we sing the Alma Mater, Mr. Frost reminds us, “Before you know it, you will be in this gym preparing for graduation.” And I cover my face with my hands in amazement and fear and a bit of sorrow as my mind revisits the memory of standing in the gym last year as a Junior escort with all those Seniors giddy for graduation, and thinking that this year, 2008, it will be me. But between today and that day, from September 4, 2007 - June 10, 2008, I will make my dash represent something. Something that I can look back on and be proud of.

I want to live for You
and honor You with my life.
I understand that You are
     My First And Greatest Lover
And I need to respect that
by revealing certain things
     to only You.

In the past,
boys have taken Your place
as the One who share my
     most intimate thoughts
But I don’t want that to
     happen again.

Above all,
I want to keep our love secred.
You are the LORD of my life,
I submit to you —
    Your will, Your plan,
    Your purpose,
    and Your glory.

In the name of Jesus Christ my Savior and Lord, AMEN

love, CARA

As I take my first few breaths
of fresh hospital air,
your fingers wrap around
my smaller fists
and my body is laid
on your breast
until my mouth finds
that never-known familiar taste.
And now
as your heart beats its last melody
of strong/soft notes,
my fingers intertwine with
your equal-sized fist
and I lay myself
beside your breast
until your soul finds
that never-known familiar peace.

My kiss says ‘good-night‘…
     did you hear it Mommy?
Let me turn off your light
     with a click, and
I’ll tuck my own self in…
     But i might wake up
after one of those dreams,
     or not be able to shut
my eyes because I’m
scared of something outside.
     But if that happens
I’ll peek in on you just to
     make sure you’re alright
and echo back all of your
     I love you’s
using just a whisper.

original:   Thursday, 07 September 2006
     final:   Sunday, 17 September 2006

i am a people pleaser               a perfectionist

i seek gratifcation.           i do not           push

      the boundaries               i follow the rules

i live by               lists       and         objectives

without direction       i cannot move       for w a r d

i see the world              for more         than it

       physically is.                  i get    attached

easily.            am      always     looking      for

                   somthing to pour my heat

                               soul into

i  want  a  purpose  in  life.              i   always

     look ahead    make decisions       t h o u g h t

f u l l y.                i    mostly    think    positive

but  dewll   on   and   store up   the   negative

        to   write    with            and   learn   by

because  dispite who i am,  i am still   learning

written sunday 13 august 2006

(my advancement from denial towards accpetance)

The four of us smile and laugh as
we turn over cards in an un-recreational
game of golf. It’s your turn and
I look at you. Your scarf wrapped
tightly around your bald head
matches your pink shirt and your
drawn-on eye brows could
almost be mistaken to be real.
Even though your eyelashes are gone
your brown eyes are very much alive.
And from behind your bi-focals,
to me, you come across as beautiful.