I’m in the process of moving to a city that’s roughly 50 miles away for next semester. I’ll have a much smaller area, and therefore can’t bring/pack everything I’ve grown accustomed to having.
So I am forcing myself to finally start going through the mountains of containers and boxes I have in a storage area here. I have been finding a lot of random things, but the most exciting is a book I was given in 2002. It’s dark green, with the lyrics of a song that I absolutely adore, from someone in my life that still is a major influence (whether he knows it or not).
The cover has autographs of a lot of musicians that I have worked with and whose music has influenced me over the years. I have all 4 members of Vertical Horizon, Angie Aparo, Barry from Carbon Leaf, and Andy from VaCo (with an original saying <3). I have a space on the top of the cover of the book where eventually, hopefully, I will get Dave Matthews or Glen Hansard to sign it. Keep dreaming, I know….
But a long time ago I started writing poetry (as in, 1990 – I was published in 1992 the first time I believe) and I've kept track of a lot of the random poetry I used to scribble here and there in this book.
Then I misplaced it for YEARS. years. So I have poetry scattered half a mile across creation. Every time I open a box with papers I am COMPELLED to check every one of them to make sure I'm not throwing away half a novella I started when I was bored in class. I do find bits and pieces here and there.. originally I was going to keep them all in this book, then I lost the book. Now I found it again. I don’t have much of an excuse anymore, do I?
This is what takes me so long to go through storage and pack. I have a lot of memories, and a lot more written words than I'll ever admit. (at minimum 750 poems just from 2000-2005 alone, not to mention my completed play and the 2 novels I'm working on…)
So I'm constantly on a hunt to try to gather the bits and pieces together and solidify them into the myriads of journals I have lying about.
I should do this more often, but I don’t; I’ll post an original poem that, while I know and remember the particular situation, a lot of it still seems to ring true even almost 10 years later. It’s quite interesting to me to see how something I wrote then applies oh so well to now too.
Last few moments
before I lift away
back to everything familiar
yet not as familiar as
your scent as you
hold me close to your beating heart
I know what I have to do
and that’s let go and walk
on, turning the page
and starting another chapter
in the sketchbook of my life.
So I look in your eyes
one last time, squeeze your hand
and run away silently
turning around for one
last fleeting glimpse I find
you’ve run silently on
not opening my mouth lest
I start bawling.
No goodbyes said
though the chapter may be
done, there is no