Seek knowledge of multiple aspects in life; relationships are complicated.
Capsized. Off coast of Monhegan Island, ME May 2016

I feel a need
explain myself, hoping misconceptions
do not blur the mirror between our faces.
Our breath fogging up the air.

Waves are what you believe.
Rowing towards another
smooth sailing desired
frantically head towards the shore.

Prepare for the storm
learn navigation, obstacles overcome
hide in the corner, drowning all senses
to trust or mistrust.

Cheating ourselves of courage
of what could be
love atop a mountain view
or mourning under sea.

Ocean rowing is very much what you make it. Rowing technique is pretty irrelevant on the ocean. It’s the psychology that’s important.   –Roz Savage

A child capsized before they realize they have wings, a poor prognosis to rise above. Faulty  attachment leads to mistrust. See the hollow eyes looking back at you? What to do?

There are approximately 500,000 children in the United States in foster care. How else could a heart be broken? Children sinking in a great fissure of happiness and despair. There is hope. A nugget of faith to embrace. A chance to grasp what knowledge gives a person to soar above the noise and reach a point of need. A life purpose I sail towards, navigating bumps and bruises, of my own, as I witness sadness beyond the horizons. Yet I keep believing.  One child saved is worth my life. One smile worth more than gold and gems.

In a sense I travel the confines of another mind. That can freak people out. Who dare look within? I blame no one. I avoided it but now I am grateful to that person who listened. No matter how pathetic I sounded, he rode the waves out. I imagine I put fear into his mind. The multiple thoughts of suicide; knives, ropes and pills. It would cause anyone panic. Towards the end, I thanked him profusely. The mending of multiple people inside that realized only the one who could mentally handle what happened. Essentially sparing others the need to fathom the horror.
I know this all sounds crazy. I feel crazy some days. Especially when I become so open to others I barely know. In a sense hiding behind this screen. Fleeing when I have had enough. I know that as long as the words remain within and I have yet to let them go I will continue to post (warning some posts will be dark and understand if you unfollow) and read and chug along this funny thing called “life”. Ahhhh, then to understand death. Not sure I have enough time to go that far. Be well.

Thanks for reading. Happy to be a Word Press blogger. Enjoying  my time. And all that.  –Jeanne


a man named suicide

i was pulled into a world of suicide.

i often woke, in a peaceful wish, to pass from whatever i felt. it stung. i did not know it had a name. a blank stare at a world passing by that never seemed to stop and say hi.

i did not appreciate the genius of creation. the sparks i saw when i closed my eyes or the beat of a heart, misshapen. not the perfect lines aliens drew. their hearts were desirous and mine turned blue, even with oxygen, i could barely breath. no one bothered to check the air exiting or entering, they assumed all was well.

a man named suicide

a dapper gentleman, suicide
quietly enters a life to steal a life.
he does not want to die
so he drives souls to the edge
keep his moment alive.
(what if i fought back, would he fight harder still?)
i feared and loved him all the same
time passing, he changed.
his long-faced demeanor approached, larger than life.
a dug grave, so deep, i knew he could entomb me
the white flower i held,
grasped tight.
had someone told me to throw it in
i would have gone along for the fall.

*God knew i was hurting, turning His back. Knowing I was slipping from His hands.
Like Job He tested my faith. Like Job I surrendered my soul to Him. God won.

suicideFor me this means Jesus. For others it may be a friend.