Purple Mountain of Despair

a spark, to a flame, to a fire
tended for two and a half years.
i stared with wide eyes of a child,
having never seen something so raw,
have never felt something so warm.
i stood close, too close
and sometimes was burned.
but no storm, no rain or wind
was going to conquer that fire!
i would be there, always and forever.
i had no doubt, only fear
that something terrible would happen
if i relaxed, if i changed,
if i took my eye away for one second.
but the natural phenomenon was no longer natural –
its flames ceased dancing,
its pleasant heat faded and fled,
its beauty ripped harshly from the world.
now i’m still standing, just a few feet away,
staring, hoping, dreaming
but shivering cold.
it’s a hard way to learn:
even young love needs oxygen.

the sun’s warm
against my head-cold.
staff meeting in 30 minutes.
an office with no natural light
for hours and hours more.
we apologize for this inconvenience.
thank you for riding.

unreturned emails and calls
years and miles apart
in heart and mind.
wounds heal,
but scars last forever.

i just walked for hours alone.
now my legs aren’t as sore as my mind.
i have grown up a lot since i last took lonely strolls by the lake.
but my thoughts aren’t much different.
there’s just a face, a body, almost three years of memories
to back up the empty feelings.
it’s not as sad as it sounds.
the lake is beautiful and calm.
the sun was showing signs of warmth.
and for some select moments,
i was content.
sitting in this cafe, though, drinking chai with Purple Rain in the background,
how could i not reach back in time
for that girl who was once afraid to reveal her AIM screenname to me
because she though i’d judge her for basing it on her drink of choice.
she always got chai.
she got me out to cafes.
she got me to like wandering around the city.
to not worry so much about spending $5 if it put me in a better mood.
she helped me grow up,
but i saw too much too late.
it’s been over a year and i’m still writing these poems.
i’ve lived in my apartment alone longer than i lived in the dorm, coop or apartment 3N.
i’ve stabilized in this place,
this distressing, lonely state of mind,
but am left scribbling.
an apologist for that with which i don’t agree.
pulled by a paycheck and lacking confidence.
sure i am going the right direction.
unsure who to follow along the way.
unsure who to talk to,
who will be there when i next fall down.
who i could sit in a cafe with in the early evening,
whose hand i could hold on my next walk by the lake,
who i could cuddle in bed with, listening to my favorite music,
forgetting about the world i fight against everyday.

I get weird looks,
sitting on the stairs
alone, writing,
determined to immerse myself
in a world that helps me forget.

Tonight, there’s a bounce in my step,
but no less fear,
no less confusion
about the part of my life
that isn’t represented
in slogans and chants.

My leg is sore from walking,
my heart from searching,
my mind from never knowing
when to stop.

red shirt, cracking voice
and a bullhorn.
the most reliable place
to find my friends.
this week i needed the reminder,
a little push back into struggle,
back into a world i love
but that drains me.
sometimes you have to back off
from strategy.
get to know the people who who will
hold you up
when you put the whole world
on your shoulders
and almost collapse.