without feathers

without feathers
i watch the snow fall
around me
“i love the snow,”
i say quietly
and try to keep from
crying
without feathers
i battle the demons
inherited from my
father
mother
relationships taking
wrong turns
down one-way streets
“i want to live,”
i try to convince myself
i feel in my heart
intense hope
and bottomless
sorrow
and i continue my journey
without
feathers.

to keep my heart safe from dusty, i find i have to remember things i would rather forget.
some of you were with me during the really really awful bad terrible fucked-up hello kitty catastrophe.
you know, when dusty started dating a 30 year old in a hello kitty backpack while he was living with me?
how she would come to our apartment & hide in the bushes & wait for him? how she would write graffiti about the two of them on the bike paths around where we lived?
how she gave him a phone so they could “sext” each other?
how he would sneak off to see her & leave me alone pregnant…with a newborn…and his three other children?
how i would happen across the two of them…how i developed an anxiety whenever i left the house that i would see them somewhere, together?
how i would constantly find fucked-up little gifts & notes from her to him on our front step or hanging from the trees around our home?
how he refused to leave madison with me & the kids because he wanted to stay near her?

sigh.

this is what i have to replay in my head.
the cold way he would look at me when i happened upon them somewhere near our house, embraced.
the way he shoved me when i tried to find out what was going on between them & behind my back.
sitting alone in a courtroom waiting to find out what would happen to me for having a public & profane breakdown.
finding out, too late, from people i thought were friends that this had been going on when i was being told it was not.

this is what i am trying to recover from. among other things. meanwhile, dusty keeps trying to creep back in. still blaming me & telling me what a cold heart i have for not loving him.

i’m tired, y’all.
i’m tired of doing everything alone as he watches & complains that he isn’t being included when i would love to include him–but instead feel it necessary to protect myself from him. i never wanted to do this alone. every day as i struggle to take care of four kids & homestead & have time to myself to do art & to try to keep from losing my mind but losing my mind because i never seem to get time to re-charge because there is always something that needs doing…someone who needs me….

sigh.

i really like this self-portrait.
i think i should take the ones i feel strongest about and do them on a good watercolor paper. this one…i really like it.

ps. so i worked on this last night while watching the netflix original movie a futile & stupid gesture based on the life of doug kenney (who founded national lampoon)…. i totally recommend it. it made me both laugh & sob–which is my criteria for a good story. it also made me think that maybe it is a good thing that i am largely unrecognized for my art, etc. i mean, these depressed & damaged people who make it big & realize that it fixes nothing & end up killing themselves because they still feel like failures….

so today i am thankful that i have never been successful enough to feel like an utter failure.
yay.

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hurting

you can’t put your pain
in front of someone else’s
happiness
you can’t let your own darkness
eclipse
everyone else’s
light
you can’t
because who are you then?
you are the monster
you fear
the most.
taking what has hurt you
& hurting others
with it.

who can tell i was raised catholic? i swear i am not obsessed with angels nor do i entertain delusions of my own divinity. just the whole concept of wings & horns. the weight they carry. the meanings they portray.

i’m healing from this last dance with darkness…should you be wondering. two steps forward, one step back.
healing
and trying to heal
and forgetting to heal
but then remembering again.

unraveling me

i need this day
to blow itself
away
sad sings in my heart
as i wonder
where does the wonder
spilled from me
for the world to see
where does the wonder go?
is it looked after?
cared for…
nurtured?
these parts of me i share
does someone love them?
as i do?
or are they callously treated
roughly handled
piddled upon?
i wonder should my wonder suffer
is it best to sew up these wounds
stuff it all back in again
fester in silence?
or
do i keep to my journey
and continue to unravel
my mysteries?