Lyrics

Did I ever really know you?

You act like you know me, in the mirror you look at

your reflection is all you really see. 

Not in focus. 

It’s clear you never chose us. 

It’s ok, 

cause I’m thriving 

living in the land of locusts.

A new dawn

     Personal Revolution

Hope seeps in filling the space where anguish once resided.

     Each new day welcome and devoured, 

like mornings first rays of penetrating light.

               Beauty sprouts from tender cracks pain once ripped open,

      Exposing honesty and fresh perspective.

   In every place I have lived that was not a rental, I have written on the walls at some point or another. Some times silly meaningless things and other times things I wanted to hide there for some unsuspecting person I imagined would find it later. Maybe it was a small motivational note, sometimes a confession, a poem or other times lyrics to songs I found meaning in. As a young girl it was on the Cow Shed with the chalk used on the milking cows udder, as a bit older it was on the inside of the dry wall in my room in Washington, then again as a bit older girl in my parents home in Salt Lake City, and again in Our first home we bought after we got married during the major kitchen overhaul, and now I am in a new home with an empty slate... What to write? where and when to write it? AH! So much pressure! not really. I am sure one day it will feel right. Just for now, please don't tell my kids! they seem to have already picked up on the habit and have not figured out how to do it inconspicuously. The only way to do it, is on the inside. They better not be taking my walls apart to do that! But if you know my Girls you probably know as well as I do its only a matter of time.
   I have written in a journal off and on, I use to really love that but now it takes more time to get into the zone and write freely then it does to just pick up my phone and write. I have oodles of lists and journal entries on my phone in the note pad.
   All my poetry that I wrote on paper years ago and kept is in a chest with a bunch of other important type papers. I "write" poems in my head all the time usually in the shower or driving and then they are gone by the time I can write.
I want to write poetry again. Or write it DOWN again.
   I am working on writing down my life story. It's unedited and not intended for public consumption. Mostly its my way of letting go of some things and processing others. As well as for my kids and husband to know everything I can remember about me, Maybe give them clues as to why I am the way I am and what my life was like, including the parts that don't involve them. They will get it when I have passed, and it will be up to them what they share and with whom.
   I always have words in my head. Always.