Thursday, October 8, 2015

The Return Brings Light At The End



"Hello."

"Did you miss me?"

"I know it has been so long."

"Don't worry though...I am back. I just had to handle life's unsolvable Rubik's cube."

Yes, I went away for a bit, both literally and figuratively.  I took a trip in August right after my last post on this blog.  I travelled overseas to London and Paris. It was an amazing experience and I even started a new blog about it, http://gypsywriteradventures.blogspot.com/, if you would like to read.  As so often happens though when you take two weeks off; you end up playing catch up for your daily life. It was a time that was busy also with major work meetings and obligations followed by personal hurdles and walls that prevented entrance of creativity.

However, today is National Poetry Day. For a writer, and especially one that writes a lot of poetry, this is truly a holiday that must be observed.  In this observation I am posting here a poem.  In addition, I am following the theme that was prompted by @PoetrydayUK on twitter, which was "Light." I hope you enjoy and there will be another new post next week. I am once again clearing out the cobwebs of my mind and writing, writing, writing.

The Doll Has Taken The Stage


I step onto the stage

The lights so bright

I can’t see you

But I know you are there

My outfit ideal

Pink tutu full, hair pulled back tight, and toes pointed

I get into position

I wait for the cue

I wait for the music to begin its slow rhythm

The first sounds float through the air

I try to move my head in turn to the music

But can not turn or stir

Instead I feel a tug

And my leg goes out

Toes pointed rigid

I feel another tug and my arms rise

And then slowly my head looks up

And I rise on my toes

Spinning round and round

Yet trying to peak

And see your face

Are you delighted?

Do you see me perform for you?

The music picks up pace as I spin

Until finally out of breath

And feeling like I can go no more

I feel the rhythm in my heartbeats

In time to the sounds begin to slow

And I feel another tug

This time I feel my arms raise over my head

And then back down

As I step lightly to the side

So swift, so cute

I can feel the heat from the lights overhead

Their brightness making it impossible

To see the beautiful faces of the audience

Or the one in the crowd

Who I yearn to see

My one light I always want

Shining on me

Finally the music stops

And everyone takes a bow

And feeling another tug

I move to the center of the stage

And pirouette in style

Amid clapping and brava

Finally I see the curtain begin its descent

Until I alone am on the stage

Picturing the other side

I feel arms wrap around me

And lift me up

I am placed on a bed

My hands crossed at my chest

And just as I look up

Into the face of the man

His eyes so dark

His face so intense

My heart beats wildly

Wanting to reach up

Unable to move

Panic setting in

Until I see him put the strings

He tied onto my back on top of my head

And the last sight I see

Before the darkness took hold

Was the lights of the stage

Screaming “The End!”

Monday, July 13, 2015

Writing in Red













I know, I know, another poem. How could I?  I had a writing inspiration and a writing feast. I couldn't stop myself. It is amazing what a little peace and time away from chaos can do. Next week's post will be the end of the short story series (I promise!!! I have it almost complete and then need to edit it.) and then it is back to the book posts. I am almost done. Two more chapters to go. Don't distract me now. 


Writing in Red Lipstick
I came home that night
Walked up the stairs slowly
Never turning on the light
Enjoying the cloak of darkness
Fearing the glaring light of reality
I did not fear the dark
It was a blanket that covered up sins and scars
It was an impassable wall
Keeping at bay the wolf who now sleeps
Down the hall from me
I know the path by memory
The memories of destruction seldom easily fade


I entered my room
Slowly closed the door
Never making a sound
Never disturbing the night into waking
Never alerting the moon
To appear from behind that cloud
And I locked the door
Knowing its fallible defense won't protect me
Refusing even now to light my path
I tip toed and stumbled
Cursing under my breath
Soundless fury, quiet shock


I walked into the bathroom
Closed the door behind me
It whispered shut
And I held my breath
The sound of nothing felt loud, screaming
My held breath releases
Like a gale force wind
I crept like a ballerina
Gliding effortlessly on my toes
I grabbed a towel, rolling it into an impenetrable roll
I laid it by the crack in the door
No light gets out, no light gets in.


I turned on the light
And looked straight into the mirror
I tried to give a smile
But it didn't change my face
Dark circles
Tear stained eyes
Red nose
Disheveled hair
Sunken cheeks
And eyes whose depths of sadness
Seemed deeper than the ocean
I clench my fist


I dried the tears with the back of my hand
I squared my shoulders
Anger now pouring out of my eyes
I stood taller somehow

Resolution!
Awareness does not always come
Wrapped in a pretty bow
Often it cuts
Like a knife
Straight into the heart
Cutting through to the bone


I grabbed for the black tube
And gave a small, angry, defiant grin
I opened the tube slowly
Turned the knob at the base
And raised it up to the mirror
taking a deep breath
Should I really?
My head snaps back up
Did you stop to think
Before you hurt me
No!
And I write my message in red lipstick


THE END!


Monday, July 6, 2015

Someday


This is a poem that has much meaning for me at this point in my life. This poem spoke to my heart and my life and flowed down through my fingers needing a voice. For anyone living in an internal darkness, I understand. For anyone surviving not living, I understand. For anyone feeling too much and then nothing at all, I understand. For anyone floating on a cloud of pain, I understand. My answer is someday. Someday I will be fine again.


Someday
Someday I will stand on the top of the mountain
And scream at the top of my voice
I’m fine!
Someday I will swim in the depths of the ocean
And scream over the sound of the waves
I'm fine!
Someday I will sit in the darkest cave
And scream as it echoes off the walls
I'm fine!
Someday I will stand under the drops of rain
And scream over each clash of thunder
I'm fine!
Someday I will lie on the cool, green grass
And scream into the vast blue of the sky
I'm fine!
Someday I will stand under the darkened sky
And scream up at the large mocking moon
I'm fine!
Someday I will sit quiet and alone
And scream into the silence
I'm fine!
Someday I will stand unmoving within the crowd
And scream into the throng
I'm fine
Someday I will return home and open the door
And scream into my sanctuary
I'm fine!
Someday I will take up my pen and put it to paper
And write out in large capitalized letters
I'M FINE!


Someday
I will look into the mirror
And see my outline
And the colors and shadows
That make me beautiful inside and out
Someday
I will look down at my scars
And see the whiteness
And healing powers
Telling me I have strength to out live my pain
Someday
I will open my eyes
After a good night's rest
And smile not cry
Telling me that joy does exist again
Someday
I will cry
But they will be tears of joy
Like a rainbow after the rain
And know that hope resides in my land again
Someday
The flowers will have color
The sun will shine
The moon will not be ominous
And I will know they are watching me even behind the clouds
Someday
I will have hunger
My fingers will ache for my pen and paper
My heart will pound with excitement
And I will know the comfort that I live again
Someday
I will think of your face and your eyes
Remembering the love I felt
Relishing in the memories
And not live the ache of pain anymore
Someday
I will be fine
Someday
I will believe this again
And from the top of the mountain
I will shout
I'm fine!



Friday, June 26, 2015

This Is Me...Now Take A Bow



No ending of the story yet. I have not been able to write for over a week except for some poetry. This weekend hopefully will be a bit more promising in the writing.  In the meantime, enjoy this poem.




This Is Me...Now Take a Bow

How do you define me?
How do I define me?
Do I have one definition?
Do I have many?
Do you see just a shadow of me?
Do I have an outline?
If I scream will you hear me?
If I whisper will you notice?
If I caress you will you know me?
If I touch you will you respond?
Are my eyes blue?
Or are they red from crying?
Do you see me?
Do you know what I hold within?

I have many definitions
Which one is right?
Mother
Sister
Daughter
Friend
Lover
Writer
Poet
Warrior
Angel
Adventurous
Emotional
Loving
Jealous
Patient
Impatient
Creative
Pretty
Lazy
Kind
Petty
Altruistic
Soft
Hard
Depressed
Joyous

Can we be defined in one word?
Should we be defined in one word?
Don’t take my actions
And define it as me
When next I can change
Like the leaves on a tree
Don’t take my silence
As anger or sadness
When in reality
It may be both
Or it just may be madness
Do not take my hurt
As love gone astray
I feel and I express
Because love for you never goes away
Do not take my softness
Do not take my pain
As signs of weakness
I have lived, I have survived
I have danced in the rain
I have bled
I have wept
I have screamed
I have trembled with fear
I still rise like the morning glory
When sunlight returns near

You can overlook me
On days it is just my shadow
You can slice me in two
On days I am too weary to battle
You can push me away
Say that I am wrong
Take my love for granted
Leave it in vain
You can dress me up with a bow
You can put me on a pedestal
You can promise me all your lands
And your gold and you laughter
Then cover my mouth
Stop my voice
Cover my eyes
Stop my sight
Bury my body
And stop my heart
This does not erase me
I do still care
I do still feel
I do still hear
I can still ache while I show a smile
I can still remember
Of the soft petals of the roses
Now withered and buried
In a box I hold dear

How do you define me?
How do I define me?
Do I have one definition?
Do I have many?
Do you see just a shadow of me?
Do I have an outline?
If I scream will you hear me?
If I whisper will you notice?
If I caress you will you know me?
If I touch you will you respond?
Are my eyes blue?
Or are they red from crying?
Do you see me?
Do you know what I hold within?

There is just one definition
This is me…Now take a bow

Monday, June 15, 2015

The Wayfarer's Journey to Happiness: The Journey Continues

So you may have thought that the second issue of this serial story The Wayfarer's Journey to Happiness will be the final part of the story. I hate to be a tease but it is only the second edition of this serial story. You can't really call it a true serial story with only two episodes or acts if you are a Shakespeare lover.  So I am pleased to present to you the second part of this story and I promise that the next edition will have the end to this tale.  If you want a refresher to the first part before enjoying this second part just click here.

Enjoy!

The Wayfarer's Journey to Happiness:  The Journey Continues


Through the darkened, cool cave I could hear birds begin to chirp, breaking into my dreams. I had a restless night’s sleep which mixed memories of what has already been experienced with expanded thoughts and imaginings. I couldn’t keep anything straight in my head. The one constant was the old man on the side of the road. He invaded my every thought and image. He would show up in a sequence and give me advice or steer me in a different direction. I could not escape him.
When I opened my eyes I felt the familiar ache of my body from the exertion of my trek leading to the now familiar slowness of fatigue. All I really wanted was to be under freshly washed sheets on a cushioned mattress, snuggled under the covers with my head on a soft pillow where I could sleep for days. The birds outside were like an alarm ringing in my head and I just wanted to scream, “Be quiet!”
Instead, I gathered up my belongings, the few I still had. Shook my head clear of the cobwebs of sleep and, squinting at the brightness of the morning sun as I left the darkened cave, I stepped outside. The ground was still muddy and wet from the hard rain the previous night. I could feel it squish under my boots. The air was already humid and I knew it would only get worse. The birds continued their morning serenade. I was not an appreciative audience, however, as I was still trying to shake the fatigue that was now feeling like a permanent condition.
I could feel my exhaustion give way to sadness and questions. I felt defeated. I wondered why I was on this journey and why it was so difficult. I looked into the sky hoping an answer would appear, but all I got was the glare of the sun forcing me to look back down to the path I was walking. I kept putting one foot in front of the other and my thoughts and mood seemed to get darker with each step. The incline from the large mountain was making my breathing labored and I began to move slower and slower upwards. Yet, I was more focused on those dark thoughts and was not paying attention to my footing until I found myself tripping over a small tree root in the way, stubbing my toe, and beginning to fall face first. I managed to not fall on my face, but rather my knees, scraping them and yelling out, “Ouch!”
When I managed to stand back up I took a cloth from my bag and wiped my bleeding, scraped knees of the dirt and grime from the ground. I was no longer depressed. I was angry. Looking up into the sky I yelled, “So what?!? This was your answer.”
I heard a chuckle come from the trees off to the side of the path and whipped around towards the sound. I could not see anything at first, but I saw some slight movement of the leaves and knew it was not my mind playing tricks on me. There was a person in those bushes. “Come out of there! I know you are in there. What are you doing? What do you want?” I yelled out loud.
Slowly a figure began to emerge and it made me gasp. Coming out of the bushes was a young man. He was wearing next to nothing except a wrap around his middle. His body was tanned and toned. His muscles seemed to flex automatically on their own and each hard line and ripple was leaving me mesmerized. His legs held their ground like tree trunks that had been planted hundreds of years before. His arms so muscular they looked to be as wide as my own legs. As he watched me look over his body he gave another delighted laugh that seemed to tinkle along the breeze like wind chimes sounding on a spring day. I looked up then and saw his face. His chiseled features and large aquiline nose seemed out of place in what felt like a primitive area. The merriment in his eyes seemed almost childlike in their innocence.
He started to speak to me and I shook my head. I responded back, “I don’t understand anything your saying. I don’t know your language.”
We stared at each other both shaking our heads and frowning in confusion. He finally signaled me with his hand to follow him, like a universal symbol. I followed after him in silence watching his every step. He moved with such grace and ease that told me he knew this mountain and its inclines. They were his home and his memory. He would stop periodically as I tried to keep up but was having a difficult time. Once he stopped and motioned with his hand flat down which I did not understand until he began to sit under the shade of a tree to rest. I quickly realized what he had meant and followed suit.
He took from a bag tied to his hip a piece of bread and broke it in half handing me one side. I had been so intently watching this stranger and trying to keep pace that I did not notice how hungry I was or that it was time for a midday meal. The sun was high over us in the sky but the shade of the tree provided a slight breeze which helped me catch my breath and dry the sweat that I was sure I was covered in, red-faced and grimy. The man then dug into his bag again and unwrapped something tearing it in half like before. He handed me a slab of cheese. I hesitantly took it and nibbled a bite. It was a harsher flavor than I ever had and I realized it was a goat’s milk cheese. With each bite of the cheese I tried to take a nibble of bread as well to cover up the strong taste. I knew the nourishment was necessary though so I ate it ravenously. I dug into my own bag and took out my canteen of water and gulped it down before handing it over to the man for him to try it. He smiled though and took out his own animal skin casing filled with liquid.
My stomach was filled and my thirst quenched and the slight breeze that played through the trees was cooling me off quite a bit from the long trek. I began to feel my tense muscles relax and my eyelids get a bit heavy as I leaned back against the trunk of the tree to rest before beginning the journey again. Before I realized it I was fast asleep.
When I opened my eyes I felt much more refreshed and a lot less fatigued but the first thing I noticed was that the sun was now much lower in the sky. The second thing I noticed was the man staring at me with a grin on his face. He looked at me and said something in his language I did not understand. When I frowned though he made the sound of snoring. My face turned red instantly in realization of what he was saying. I jumped to my feet and, instead of responding, gathered my stuff and signaled for him to start walking. I could hear laughter behind me and tried to hurry my steps up the ever increasing incline without acknowledging my embarrassment.
I knew my nap had taken precious time from reaching the top of this small mountain and I was concerned about not reaching the top before dark. It was so hard to even see the top now that the incline was getting so steep. The man again seemed unconcerned about the time and still walked with ease up the inclined land. I could not understand how this was so easy for him and so difficult for myself. I started to complain to myself as I compared the easy gait that the man was able to maintain while I huffed and puffed and struggled along. He soon passed me and had to stop periodically again to wait for me to catch up, which only aggravated me more and more.
As the incline increased we were having to grab onto items to pull ourselves up with large boulders or low hanging tree limbs. I could feel each bead of sweat as it rolled down my back. The breeze that gave a little relief that morning had died down and the stillness of the air felt thick and made it harder to breath.
So far I had battled hunger, dehydration, being lost, being afraid, fighting a battle, meeting a solider who showed me to safety but who I lost, and now this attractive man. Yet, with all of that, it was the hike up this mountain that made me feel was the hardest part of this journey as of yet. I felt ready to give up. I wanted to go back to the flat path where the strange, little man gave me the choice of direction and instead go the other way. It had to be easier than the path I had taken.
Just when I felt that I couldn't go one step further and I was practically crawling up the way on my hands and knees I put my hand up on the land to pull me up and instead of the mountain continuing up I was pulling myself up onto the top of the mountain. The man had let me reach the top first and when I stepped foot onto the flat ridge I stood tall and then fell to my knees in amazement and gave a wild laugh that probably sounded a bit hysterical but was the ultimate laugh of relief.
I stood back up then and looked out over the most amazing view I had ever seen. I saw a lush green valley with a long river and full, beautiful trees along its edge. It felt as if I were looking into a utopia-like paradise. After my long journey so far it was hard to imagine anything more beautiful.
The man walked over and was standing beside me quietly for a minute. He then suddenly dropped to his knees and raised his hands up toward the sky. I was stunned into silence unable to do anything but stare. His voice rang out loud as he continued to look up into the sky. It sounded like a chant or a prayer. I realized I felt uncomfortable and started to shuffle my feet. I had not felt the presence of faith in my life as fervently as this man expressed his. I was a woman with faith in so much but this overt display was unlike anything I have ever experienced or felt. I started wondering about my own expression of faith versus this man's.
As I looked out over the beautiful valley I felt a level of calm suddenly come over me and I realized that, though my faith my be different and not as loud, I still had a faith I was proud of because it was my own. I felt the beauty and richness of this time and when I stopped comparing myself and my own spirituality to another's I felt that same sense of calm wash over me. I moved off to the side giving the man time alone with his prayers and sat down on the edge of the mountain rim and just let this calmness stay with me for as long as I could hold onto it.
At the edge of the valley in the distance I could see that the sun was beginning its slow move towards the land. I could see the change in color in the sky as it was turning towards the colors of evenings. The blue was starting to have edges of gold and then the gold had edges of rose pink. As I watched the sun's descent I heard the quiet and realized the man had finished his prayer.  I looked over my shoulder to see where he went. He was walking around hauling large branches that he found on the ground and in no time at all created a small tepee-like shelter for us to retire to for the night.
I was a bit nervous realizing I would be in this small shelter alone with him but, at the same time, I was too fatigued to fight. The man led me over to the shelter and pushed on my shoulder until I sat down. He then handed me a stick and when I looked at it confused and then up in his face I realized he wanted me to make a fire. I was at a loss. I did not do these things in my life. He gave a nod as he saw my understanding and then marched off pulling a bow and arrow out from where it had hung all day at his back.
Okay, what do I do? I tried to recall the lesson of fire skills I learned at camp. I found some tinder underneath a nearby tree which I thought would make it easier to grab a flame and grow a fire. I saw a stick that had broken off with a sharp point and I grabbed it in hand. I split another stick slightly making sure not to split it too far. I put the pointed end of one stick in between the cracks of another and against a rock for support. I began moving the pointed stick hard feeling each effort of exertion tire me out more and more. I moved hard and fast though and prayed for the sight of smoke but nothing came. Sweat was pouring down my face and I let it just fall as I tried to keep up the fast pace of moving the stick to get enough friction for smoke. I wanted to cry when nothing seemed to happen. I was out of breath, exhausted, hungry, and now once again frustrated and ready to just throw the stick and cry. I threw down the stick and gave a cry out loud in frustration. Two days before that I picked up a weapon after never having done so and was able to shoot. Today this primitive form of fire was eluding me.
After my cry of frustration I heard footsteps behind me and saw the man frowning as he walked up to me. He leaned down on his knees and then gave a small smile and dug through the bag on his side again and pulled out a shiny lighter. I yelled in surprise and snatched it out of his hands laughing in glee. I realized then he had been asking me to gather firewood and not start a fire with a stick. I got up to do just that and marveled again at our miscommunication and eventual understanding of each other. I also wondered again at how my misconceptions of this strange man were wrong. He was not as simple as I thought, nor as primitive. He was more in tune with the land and nature but that did not make him simple. It made him a survivalist. Just because we spoke different languages and looked differently it did not mean that I was more or less important and knowledgeable than him. He may live in a tribe or a village but that does not make him less capable in this world of surviving than myself. It makes our ways different. At the end of it all we both are working at surviving our own worlds. We are both on a journey, a different journey, but a journey of life.
We had a fire going before long and the small rabbit the man had killed was cooking on the fire. The smell of the meat cooking was making my stomach pang in hunger. I knew from the smell I was going to enjoy this meal. The sun had finished its descent and now the gold and rose sky was just dark. On top of the mountain I watched the stars shine in the sky so clear and the moon seem so big. It was as if we were so close to it all that I could just reach up my hand and pull down one of those stars. Sights like both the solider and the man sitting across the fire from me, the memory of the lush green valley below, the way the water moved down my throat and tasted so cool and good, the feeling of hunger being abated with a simple sandwich of cheese and bread, and even the wild storm from the night before made me revel at all that had happened on this adventure and made the hard times pale in comparison to the beauty and strength and wondrous moments I have also experienced.
I knew this feeling was euphoric and I wanted to hold onto it. I also knew I may not be able to because I still needed to cross the valley and I didn't know what was on the other side that was going to stand in my path. I watched the flames of the fire and thought maybe this was the end of my journey. Maybe this man and this place were all signs this is where I should be. I looked up into the sky hoping for a voice to whisper, “Yes, this is where you will find yourself today, tomorrow and tomorrows to come.”
As I stood staring intently there was no voice and the feeling of home quickly disappeared and I knew that this life quest I was on had not yet ended. I still had much to see and much to learn and many more people to meet.


Friday, June 5, 2015

My Heart Beats For Me

I know I promised the second part of the short story I posted last week.  Unfortunately, my week did not go as planned. It was emotional and sad. It was painful but full of realizations. It was not all bad though. I learned that I am getting another writing award. This is the second one in a month I will be receiving. That is very exciting. The up and down emotions of my week though made it difficult for me to write and caused a bit of an emotional block for writing my story and even my novel. Sometimes that works for writing. Writing then becomes a way of corralling those emotions instead of having them fly all over the world and in your face. Sometimes, though, there is not control and they run rampant around you. Then it is a bit like herding cats.

I have calmed down quite a bit. I have found some of my focus. It returned to me in verse instead of in words for my story. Below is the poem that came to me as I was rebuilding my strength and realization that I do deserve happiness in this world, everyone does. It often just takes pushing that rock up the hill one more time in the hope that this time it will reach the top and not fall down again.

My Heart Beats For Me

You can cut off my feet
But, I will then learn to crawl.
You can push me to the ground
But, I will pull myself back up.
You can cut off my arms
But, I will then learn to stand taller.
You can turn your back on me
But, it won't take away what you said.
You can cut me at the knees
But, I will still find a way out of this pain.
You can slice open my body
But, I will still be amazed by my heart's beating.
You can cut off all my hair
But, I will still have a beauty.
You can take away my sight
But, it won't stop me from seeing.
You can bind my wrists
But, I will still scream my loudest.
You can take away my words
But, I will still hear the poetry.
You can cover my ears
But, I will still know the feel of your whispers.
You can cover my eyes
But, I will still remember the colors of Spring.
You can cover my mouth
But, I will still sing in my heart.
You can ignore me
But, I still exist.
You can scream at me
But, I can still have love.
You can look at me with hate
But, I know I can still deserve happiness.
You can stop loving me
But, I know that I still believe in magic.
You can shout at me insults
But, I still have hope.

I can push this rock up the hill
And have it come back down
Again
And again
And again.
I will not give up.
I will not give in.
I will push that rock up the hill
Until we reach the top at the end.

I can take up the fight
And lose the battle
Again
And again
And again.
I will not give up.
I will not give in.
I will fight on
Until the war has come to an end.

You can pierce me through the heart
And, though I bleed
You haven't taken away my ability to love
My hope, my happiness, my heart
Still reside within
My strength, my character, my truth
Still define who I am
My emotions, my tears, my joy
Still shine on my face
And, though I may be broken
Battered and abused.
I may be unable to move
Unable to stand
Tired without and within
You only pierced my heart
And watched it bleed
No feeling or emotion on your face
I felt it beat
I felt my life
I did not die
I will fight, and love
And cry, and laugh
Stand tall
Be strong
I will do all this again
This time not for you
This time my heart
It beats for me.

Friday, May 29, 2015

The Wayfarer's Journey to Happiness




As a kid I remember sitting in Catholic school class and they would treat all of us once a week to a radio broadcast over the loudspeaker.  They always played a broadcast of someone reading a story like a serial soap opera.  Trying something new this time, I am posting part of a short story I have written here.  It is not as much of a serial event like those radio programs I heard as a kid, but this is the first part of a two part blog. Stay tuned next week for the ending...Enjoy!








The Wayfarer's Journey to Happiness

I needed a new word for tired. My legs were sore, my feet ached, and my heart was heavy.  This journey was long and I was lost. I did not know how much longer this trek would take or even where I would end up.  All I knew was that I wanted home.  I didn't know if I would even recognize home at this point but, I wasn't going to give up or give in. I felt an exhaustion course through me like I have never felt before. It was not because of the long journey but because it was a hard journey.

I stopped next to a creek bed to rest.  I was so thirsty and my stomach grumbled with hunger. I dipped my hand into the cool water and raised it to my lips.  The cold liquid slid down my throat and I could feel its whole path through my body. It filled my empty stomach enough for me to stand back up to start back on my quest for home.

As I turned back to the path I saw a man staring at me through the trees on the other side of the road. There was nothing outstanding about this man. He was short with only thin wisps of dark hair strategically placed over a balding head. He was portly and even his drab, dirty robes, which looked as if they were made from scratchy material, could not hide this fact.  He had a round Asiatic face but even from the distance I could see the light of intelligence in his eyes.  As I neared the road, and got closer to the man, I saw that he was older than I initially thought.  The light in his eyes was youthful but it was difficult to see up close given the layer of dirt and grime and the wrinkles which showed a long, hard life.

He stood across from me with a sly grin now on his face pointed in my direction, a twinkle in his eyes, his hands clasped over his rounded center, but he did not say a word.  I finally gave a shrug of my shoulders, whispering under my breath, “little weirdo.”  I turned to head down the road again when I heard him clear his throat and in a clear, loud voice he asked if I wanted to find happiness.  I answered without thinking as I tried to continue walking, “Of course.”

“Do you know if you are on the right path?”

I was tired and cranky and the old man was now blocking my path so I snapped in response, “What is this some kung fu, samurai, voodoo crap?  Does anyone ever know really if they are on the right path? I do know one thing.  You are blocking the path I am on and need to get out of my way.”

The smile never left the old man's face, even after my rude response which I started to regret the moment the words left my mouth.  I shrank back in disgust when I saw the discoloration of his teeth and the large gap on the bottom where two were missing. Who was this man? He was dirty, bedraggled, wrinkled, short, and just stood there grinning.  I put my hand to my head which still hadn't stopped its constant pounding and aching to try and massage away the pain in hopes that my thoughts about this man would become clearer.

He rose up and down on the balls of his feet and gave a laugh.  “Ah...so you are on a life quest.  We all take those at times in our lives, even if we don't realize it.”

“I am not on a damn life quest.  I really just want to get home.” I said as I felt exhaustion creep over my body.  “Who are you anyway?”

“My name is To-dai.”

“Today?”

“No no.  To-dai.” He responded giving a chuckle.  “And, where is home?”

This question made me uncomfortable. I started to shuffle my feet and look at the ground. Finally I just gave a shrug of my shoulders and said, “I don't know.”  Before he could react though I quickly stated, “But I will know it when I get there.”

His face became unreadable as his brows knit together and he put his splayed fingers up to his mouth as if in deep thought.  He started to nod his head and then finally said, “Good, good.”

He started to finally step aside shuffling out of my way.  I gave him one more strange look and then hoisted my pack higher up my shoulder, feeling its weight and started to pass by him.  I got only a few feet when I heard him call out, “Life quests have many obstacles to get through.  There may be war, famine, heartache, mountains, oceans, rain, snow, and indifference.  We are all on a life quest. In the end we all reach home, scarred, changed, and for the soldier, stronger. You will get home.  Follow this path you are on and you will find all of that.  Turn around and follow this other path and you may not.  You have to choose.  Will you choose the path that may leave just a pebble in your shoe to worry about or will you choose the path that will lead you over mountains, valleys and oceans?”

I started looking down one way and then the other.  Both of the roads looked the same to me.  They had cracks and potholes and were tree-lined.  Nothing stood out different from one side to the other.  There was no sign with arrows pointing, “This way for an easy trail” with an opposite arrow that said, “This way for a painful trek.”  I once again just gave a shake of my head and thought, “Why am I listening to a crazy old man anyway?”

I continued to walk down the road that I had started.  After a while I peered over my shoulder but the old man was gone. I put the conversation out of my mind and just continued with my travels.

The sun started to rise higher in the sky and I had already sopped through the first sweat rag I had in my pack.  I felt sticky and wet and knew I needed to find some shade quick.  The tree lined paths from earlier were gone and now the terrain was barren and empty except for dust and sand, all of which was broiling under the sun along with me. I felt alone except for the bugs that flew in my face or I saw crawling along the ground which I tried to avoid. 

Each step seemed harder to take than the previous one.  I knew my energy was fading and I needed to eat and drink some water and take a brief rest to gather my resources again.  I rounded a bend feeling the weight of my pack like it was full of large rocks instead of supplies.  Around the bend I saw a small grove of thin trees.  I mustered up enough reserved energy to reach the grove and proceeded to lie on the ground for a few minutes in fatigue.   The trees did not offer much cover from the sun that was beating down on me but the rest I was taking was much needed and I felt some of my strength slowly come back to me.  There was a slight breeze that I also felt on my face and I leaned toward it letting the little bit of cool air dry me off and refresh me.  I finally sat back up and opened my pack, pulling out a canteen of water gulping it greedily.  The one nagging fear that came into my mind was that I did not know when I would be able to refill my canteen again and knew I should conserve the water when I can. 

I slowly dug through my pack again until I found some ready-made food.  The ache in my stomach felt like such a permanent condition that I almost didn't notice it anymore...almost.  I took a bite and then gobbled up my food like I hadn't eaten in days.  It really had only been half a day but the full stomach now actually left me a bit nauseous.  I took one smaller sip of water trying to conserve and it settled my stomach down. 

As I was putting the canteen back in my pack I was startled by a loud explosion in the distance.  I almost fell to the ground in shock and fear.  My senses were instantly on alert.  In the distance I saw a fire creep over the land like a bright, slow-moving snail.  I started hearing a “Pop! Pop!” in the distance.  I quickly gathered my things and started running down the road thinking I was running away from whatever was occurring nearby.  I wasn't.  I was running towards it. The noises around me and my fear and adrenaline had me turned around.  I rounded another bend and saw men with weapons.  They were holding their rifles tight and pointed.  The weapons reminded me of the M1 Grand I've seen in pictures with my grandfather who fought in World War II.
I instantly froze and then went to turn on my heels when I was pulled suddenly from behind.  A young man that looked only about nineteen years old thrust a weapon in my hand. “Here. Shoot.  We are being overrun.”

“No, no, no.  I can't shoot.  I don't know what to do.” I yelled at him as he was running off.

He looked over his shoulder and simply said, “If you see red uniforms and it is moving...shoot it!”
I started to shake.  I was not a hunter. I did not grow up playing guns. I grew up reading classics and playing with dolls. I knew I had to get through this area to reach my destination. I did not know why I knew this but I did. I was on a path and unfortunately this trail led me here.

I hid behind a tree and tried to think about how to stay safe and get through. I peeked slowly around the corner keeping my weapon ready to shoot but out of sight enough that no one could see it if they were looking at my hiding place. Nearby I heard a twig snap and my attention instantly became alert.  I needed to know if it was the enemy or a friendly.  I stole another peak around the corner and saw a flash of red move.  Without even thinking, I put the weapon to my shoulder.  I did not think other than to notice what was around me.  I did not waver other than to try to keep my mind hyper focused on the enemy ahead.  I waited, and then, I saw them inch closer in sight.  I counted out three seconds as he neared my position and then inhaled and held my breath, flew around the tree and put my finger on the trigger and SHOT!

I don't think I breathed for a full minute after I shot. The pounding I thought was from the sound of the gun was actually the adrenaline ringing through my ears.  The man fell to the ground.  I walked over to his lifeless body, making sure he was not fooling me in any way by playing opossum. I put my boot to his side and I gave a swift kick. He lie face down on the ground and did not make a sound.  That is when I noticed the pool of blood forming under him and I realized the consequence of my actions in disbelief.  Before I could register any of this though I heard steps behind me and swung the gun around ready to defend my life. “No! We are friendlies.”
I instantly swung my gun up and then fell back against the tree.  The feel of the hard bark digging into my back and the strength of the wide based tree supported me for a moment while I tried to gather my thoughts into some normal calmer pattern again instead of a chaotic mess. I heard the solider approach me.

“Who are you? What are you doing in a war zone where you shouldn’t be? Are you crazy?” He scolded like I was a misbehaving child.

“No…no…I guess…I was lost.” I stammered in response. “I am trying to find my way and the path brought me here.  I did not expect to have to battle in a war. I did not expect to have to fight my way through a forest just to get back onto my trail. I truly thought it would just be a straight way with a few turns maybe…not war.”

The solider studied my face for a moment.  There was something oddly disconcerting about the way he stared at me.  It was as if he was trying to hear beyond my words and see through me to discover if I were leaving out a truth.

“Life has a way of doing that to us doesn’t it?  Come on.  Follow me. I know a hidden way to the edge of the encampment that will take you to safer and higher ground. Walk fast though. I can’t be loitering with you all day.”

He started to march through the trees and swift was exactly how he moved.  I practically had to run to keep pace with him.  I felt myself start to breathe hard. “What did you mean by ‘life has a way of doing that to us’?”  I managed to gasp out the words, now fighting for a breath.

He stopped and looked at me with that hard look again. I did not care this time though. I was just enjoying the brief break from his fast pace and put my hand up onto a nearby tree as I pulled air into my lungs hoping to lessen the breathless gasping I had been doing.

He handed me a canteen of water which I gulped at greedily and he answered as I drank. “No one expects to be faced with a battle or a war.  Everyone leads their life on a path and hope that it is straight and sunny and there are never any obstacles.  War happens though.  You don’t plan for it.  You can try to skirt around the edge of it to avoid it, you can run away and hide, or you can face it and head into the battle.  You can snatch up your guns and you can shoot at your enemy all while turning off the emotional side of yourself and turning on the survival side.  That is war.  The strong are the ones that battle and, yes, sometimes lose, but at least do not stop or hide but run in and face the enemy.”

I stood slowly taking in his words, looking down as I did to the gun that remained in my grip and which I held in front of me for protection.  I was again feeling less labored in breathing, I took one more gulp of water and handed him back the canteen.  He spun on his heel and head back down what was now barely a path.  We were moving under low hanging branches, obstructed by large roots in the ground, the areas where sunlight could not reach were soggy and wet, and the leaves made me slip a few times forcing me to grab onto the closest branches I could find.

We finally seemed to come upon a tree line and he pushed me to the ground into a kneeling position and raised his fingers to his lips for me to remain still.  He peeked through the thick bush slowly making barely any movement so that the enemy would not be alerted to our presence.  He finally felt secure that there was no one around and gave me a nod. 

We stood up and headed out of the cover of the forest.  “I did not think the enemy would be here.  They are far up the hill top where most of the fighting is currently, but you can never be too careful of the reconnaissance teams.  See this creek bed.  Walk close to it and follow it for about four miles.  It will run and lead you to a small lake.  That is where you can take up on the road again.  That road will continue away from the fighting and your path should be much easier now.  Remain at constant alert though until you hit the road.  Here, take this also.  It will protect you from the sun.”  He handed me a dark scarf which I tied around my head.

I gave the man a smile and then felt an indescribable urge and found myself pulling him into a hug.  “Thank you so much.  I don’t know if I could have gotten out of there alive without you.”

“He gave me a slow easy grin. “You would have been fine.  Now take care. I must return to my men.”

He turned to head back into the forest, although I suspected he was kneeling out of sight watching to make sure I made it down the creek.  I walked along the edge of it for a couple minutes and turned to look over my shoulder to see if I could notice him.  When I turned back I heard a shot echo through the whole forest.  It made me jump and the birds in the trees in unison flew off in loud, winged fear.  I wanted to run back to check on the solider whose name I never even got, but who I felt a kinship to after he selflessly led me to safety.  In my heart I was fearful of finding out that the shot was not made by him.  I also knew that I should not turn back but run. 

My head suddenly screamed one thought at me as I started to see a shadow of red through the trees…”RUN!”  And, that is just what I did.  I ran and dodged the trees, keeping close to the creek line as my guide.  After about ten minutes I did not hear anyone follow me.  I also noticed the creek bed getting wider and wider and knew I was getting close to the lake.  I stopped and hid behind a bush gathering my wits and my breath once again.  The sun was falling in the sky now and I knew that I would have to find shelter soon. My heart ached when I thought of the dead solider, who may not have died if he were not helping or concerned for my safety.  This was a loss I could not understand. 

Pushing aside this type of thinking for now to focus on the challenge I had ahead of me, I leaned over and filled my canteen. My stomach began to make loud noises in protest as I realized I was again hungry and water was not filling that void anymore.  I kept myself hidden within the trees except for when I had to go out for water at the creek.  I would always take my rifle with me then and remain vigilant as I searched the landscape.  I started to wonder if I was just being foolish now or, if once you learn the need for vigilance you can never fully return to peaceful naivety.  I sat down and pulled my bag closer to me.  I rummaged through it until I again found a sandwich wrapped in paper and some fruit. It was not much but it will tie me over for now.

The sun was falling and losing its own battle now to the dark night.  The night falling usually made me fearful of what was out there.  I was scared of the unknown and what could happen to me.  After my small battle and actions of the day, I realized I was not afraid of the night anymore.  Instead, I found a comfort in it.  It protected me from sight of the enemy and it allowed me to seek shelter and rest.  I laid my head down with my bag propped under it like a pillow and I fell into an exhaustive, fitful sleep. 

The next morning it was the rising of the early morning sun sweeping over my face which woke me from a deep, exhausting sleep. I started out early and managed to find the lake the solider mentioned after an hour and I knew the road was close by.  I filled my canteen, not knowing when I would have the opportunity along this trail again, and I ate a morning snack of blueberries which I found growing near the lake.  It was not much but it would give me the small boost of energy until mid-day.  I veered to the left and climbed up a small craggy hill and at the top I was again planted onto the road.
I looked back down over where I have already traveled and marveled at the enormity of what I had been through and survived.  I must be close to home now after all of that, right?  With that small hope I turned back to the road and continued my trek home.

I continued walking all day without any major incidents like the previous day, one foot in front of the other, the sun beating down on me hard by mid-afternoon.  I stopped periodically to rest and dry out from the heat. I realized I had to take more frequent rests than when I started on my journey and it was slowing me down.

The terrain began to change a bit by the early afternoon.  It was becoming more elevated and difficult to maneuver in my fatigued state.  I could see mountains in the distance and hoped that I would not have to climb over any and this trail would cut through them instead.  There were clouds forming overhead and I knew a storm was fast approaching.  I started to look for any kind of shelter as I walked, but only found tree lines or hilly, craggy fields.

I reached the top of another long, winding incline, fighting for breath I stopped.  I had to put my hands on my knees and my head down until I could breathe normally again.  As I stood up I gasped and almost fell backwards.  There in front of me was the small mountain I was hoping to avoid.  I knew I had been nearing it, having marveled at the beauty of the mountains in the distance, but here it was presented before me, blocking my straight and peaceful journey I had most of that day.  I knew it was either find a way around it, which could take so much longer or find the strength to climb it, which I did not have at the moment. I wanted to just lie down on the ground and cry.

Instead, I looked up into the sky for an answer and felt the first drop of rain hit me in the face.  I knew I wouldn’t be climbing that mountain today with the storm now almost upon me.  It was late afternoon and based on the darkness of the clouds in the sky this was going to be a storm of large size.  I needed somewhere to ride it out in safety.

I moved fast as I edged closer to the mountain.  A small recess off to the side caught my attention in the corner of my eye.  I moved some of the branches and brush aside and saw a small cave.  Just at that moment, I was startled by a loud clap of thunder that sounded more like the Earth were breaking apart.  Without thinking of what was inside, I crawled into the hole, feeling the hard packed ground on my knees.  I settled with my back against one wall, put my knees up, and buried my face.

It was only a matter of moments before the sky opened up and rain poured down in a sheet.  I had found shelter in the nick of time.  I usually loved the sound of storms and the bigger and wilder the better.  I sat there and listened to the music of the storm outside so full of rage and wildness.  Yet, invading my enjoyment of the sounds was the nagging dread of the mountain in my way.  I knew the only way was to climb over the mountain.  The storm outside did not give me energy like listening to a storm normally did.  I felt tiredness hit me that was not physical. I sank back, closed my eyes, and knew I better rest now.  I had a hard trek ahead of me and will need all of my strength for this one. 


TO BE CONTINUED.......

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

A Title Is The First Impression Handshake...Wear It Well!

I could make the obvious Shakespeare Romeo and Juliet, Act II Scene II, reference here..."What's in a Name?" That is too easy though.  The truth is that I am getting so close to the end of my novel and it still bears no title.

I remember when my son was being born. I had his name picked out months before his birth. I just knew that was the name he should have.  I know other people don't think they can name their kids until they are born.  They need to see their babies and then the name will come to them.  Others just can't find a name or come to a consensus for a name of their baby.  I fortunately did not have that problem.

I also have no problems when I am writing my poetry or short stories. Granted a poem and short story are not a novel.  They do not take as long to write.  I don't really have a pattern for naming them though.  Sometimes I name poems and stories after they are completed and I am secure of a theme or an idea that seem to be prevalent throughout.  At other times it is the title that I work around.  When I wrote the short story Endurance of Hope, which I posted in an earlier blog post, http://wordsgal.blogspot.com/2015/02/endurance-of-hope.html, it was the title of the short story that inspired me.  Actually it was a homily given by my priest, but it was the title for the story that led me to then create the story around it.

I don't know if there is one hard and fast rule when it comes to creating a title for your novel.  I know I have had a difficult time thinking of a title or name for the book but I am now nearing the end of the first draft and this baby needs a name. I wonder if other authors find it difficult when it comes to naming a book.  I mean, Anton Chekov when the basic route with many of his titles.The Wife, The Boor, The Three Sisters, Uncle Vanya, The Blunder, and so many more.  Other authors use the main character as a way to name their novels.  The book that comes to mind would be F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby.  I think more often than not it will be the titles that stand out that may attract a reader at first.  Titles like, Scream, Quietly, or The Zookeeper's Wife, Gone With The Wind, A is for Alibi, again I could go one here.

I of course decided to do a little research.  How do people, novelists, create the names for the works? Was there a scientific, mathematical approach? If so, then I would be out of luck.  I am not good at the scientific, mathematical approach.  Did the title just appear to them as if the Greek Muse of Poetry and Love, Erato, was whispering in their ear?  This I would raise an eyebrow in doubt but I put it out there as a possibility.  Did they break down their novel and try to see the theme?  Do they wait until the very end and use the last sentence and beginning sentence as ways to create a title?  Maybe they are fortunate to see a phrase that seems to be repeated throughout and that has become the title.

The truth is all of these and more are accurate and probably used to create the title of a novel.  Just like their are multiple ways and reasons people name their children something there are even more ways and reasons authors title their stories.

In my research to assist me with how to title my novel I came across a quote someone posted:


"The title of a novel is part of the text - the first part of it, in fact - and therefore has considerable power to attract and condition the reader's attention."
- David Lodge 


This is my first novel.  It is my first of many I hope.  I realized that the title is really the first connection the reader will have with me as an author and my words.  That is a lot of power for something that could be just one word or five.  The title is also what has to lead the reader into opening the cover and starting the story.  It gives them a sense that they want to read what is between the bindings.  A title pulls and draws the reader first.  The title is the first impression where the text is the juicy getting to know you.  A title is the hand shake in greeting while the words inside are more the comfort of a friends voice.  Ah, the pressure!

Ok! Ok! Ok!  Don't worry. I am breathing again.  I am the person with the firsthand knowledge of this story.  In truth, the real quote I should use here is, "By George I've got it!" The reason being is that I have decided on a preliminary title for my novel. No, I won't be sharing it quite yet. GASP!  I know how awful of me.  The reality is that  if my novel is fortunate enough to be published from what I understand there is a great possibility that the title would be changed by the publishers.  Sounds a little sad to name your "baby" only to have someone come around and select an new title for it, but it is a possibility.

In the meantime, a teetering possibility of a title has been selected.  Chapter Thirty and Thirty One edited and next week, if I manage to finally finish it, I may be posting a short story to give me extra time to also begin writing Chapter Thirty Two, the second to last chapter.

"Onward and Upward we go!"

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Arnold Schwarzenegger: The Writer's Coach


In my best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice I say, "It's not a poem." I have posted many poems lately instead of anything about writing or my novel. April was National Poetry Month and I definitely took advantage of this fact to take a break from my novel and write my heart out in poetry. Poetry, as I have stated, is my first love.

But, Poetry Month has ended, my collection of poems have been expanded, and it is again time to get back to the novel.  When last we were tuned in....I was about to start writing Chapter Thirty Two, but had to complete the edits on Chapter Thirty and now Thirty-One First.  My poems were a nice distraction from editing.  I love editing, except that it takes great concentration, which at present I have been having problems with, but it also takes great time allocation, again which I at present did not have much of.  Added to those barriers, every Spring seems to be filled with work meetings and, since work pays the bills, that needed the necessary attention.

My work meeting is now completed. I am back home a little more tired and still busy with the aftermath of the meeting, but able to dig into my writing again. I also put off editing because Chapter Thirty is a longer chapter so editing would take that much more time and attention. It turned out that having an appointment where you have to sit around for a long time gives you what you need to do a bit of editing.  I am one step closer to being able to start Chapter Thirty Two writing.

This is exciting for multiple reasons.  One, this chapter will continue the conflict of the characters and probably be the penultimate chapter for the action and consequence of the book.  (No pressure there right?!?)  And, two, it may actually be the second to last chapter of my book.  It is like running a really long marathon and being able to round a corner and see the ticker tape you have to run through to complete the race and take home the trophy.

That does not mean the race is over. After completing the last chapter there are a few things that need to be done:

1. Edit;
2. Read the novel and make sure it flows;
3. Edit the novel to make sure it flows;
4. Name the novel (currently my book is like a baby without a name);
4.  Edit;
5.  Edit;
6.  Decide how to proceed with getting it published;
7.  Edit;
8.  Type The End and take a sigh of relief;
9.  Send out for publishing as decided;
10. Wake up the next morning and start my SECOND NOVEL!

You probably see the theme of the work I will be doing now that I am nearing the end of my first novel.  I already know what I want to write for my second novel and my fingers are aching to start.  That probably won't be for a while because I know that the editing process will be long and continuous for a while. So as I put in my edits for Chapter Thirty and dream and long to see the end of my novel there are two worries I currently have:

What in the world am I going to title this book!!!!

and...

The final edit of the entire novel!  

(Lord give me patience with myself and not demand perfection just possibility).  Every writer when they are editing are a bit of a perfectionist.  I am no different.  I am also not a very patient person in some matters, other matters I have all the patience in the world, but since I know what I want for my second novel, and I am so close to the ending of the first, I can feel the creepy, crawly, nagging bug of impatience scratch up my leg bothering me.

For now I push aside the nagging bug, and I look down at my paper and not at the fanfare in the distance waving the flags that say The End.  I will make it to the end of my race with a sense of accomplishment and much more plan and insight for the next novel I write.  With Arnold Schwarzenegger's voice again in my head I hear, in his thick accent,"Focus!" No one wants to cross Arnold so it is back to the writing and of course as prefaced in the list above...the editing.

Monday, May 4, 2015

Did Superman Know Love?



Did Superman become a hero
When he got his red cape
Or when he learned
The true meaning of pain?
Did he have to cut himself
And see that he bleeds
Before he understood
The cries of mankind
Dying in war?
Did he have to feel the ache
Of hunger and thirst
Before he understood
Longing and Desire?

Did Superman become a hero
When he flew from a skyscraper
Smiling at the birds
Feeling the wind under his feet?
Did he have to know despair
To understand elation?
Did he have to know anger
To be able to love fully?
Did he have to know discord
Before he could appreciated
The sweet song of the nightingale?
Did he have to feel the bruise of a fist
Before longing for the gentle embrace of a hug?

Did Superman become a hero
When he held the Earth
High in one hand?
Did he have to know the heaviness of grief
Before he can learn about charity?
Did he have to feel the cold
Before craving the warmth
Or know the blaze of summer
Before turning his face towards the cool breeze of Spring?
Did he have to know poverty
Before reveling in the riches of fame?
Did he have to know betrayal
Before believing in loyalty?

Did Superman become a hero
When he ran the speed of light?
Did he have to believe a lie
To see with clarity what is truth?
Did he have to feel the tears
Running down his face
In order to laugh away his pain?
Did he have to feel the heat of a bullet
To know the benefits of healing?
Did he have to know fallibility of sickness
Before he knew the nourishment of health
Did he have to grow old and feeble
Before he ran with the speed of the young
And the energy of the strong?

Did Superman become a hero
When he put on his first red cape?
Did he have to leave his true love in pain
To understand the depth of emotion?
Did he have to lash out in anger
To know the importance of a smile?
Did he have to know a heart feels pain
That it can ache and feel loss
Before truly knowing to hold onto love?
Did he have to be hurt
To then hurt someone else?
Did he have to know indifference
Before seeing the truth in a smile or a wink
The love in a touch, in a kiss?

Did Superman become a hero
Because he could easily love?
Are we all so different in our hearts
Or just screaming in different voices?
Was I a super hero
Wounded in battle?
If I stretch out my arms
Will I feel the freedom of the wind upon my face?
If I moved and never stopped
Will I forget about my own pain
Until I finally drop in need of rest?
If I have to save the world
Will I become too weary
Will I ever know the love of one
When I have to save the hearts of so many?
Do heroes ever get to love
When they carry around so much pain?
Did Superman ever really know
How to love or just to save?