Wednesday, August 19, 2009

untitled rambling

Everything was building up.

around me and inside.

literally and figuratively.

I needed to get out....So, I did.

I walked away..not telling anyone where I was going...with nothing but the clothes on my back, the shoes on my feet, and myself.

No cell phone.
No bag.
No bike.
No iPod.
No journal.

Without a means of contacting others--just in case.
Without something to hold onto at my side, and grip tightly for comfort.
Without the dear thing that pulls me through the streets at whatever speed I choose.
Without the music...the sounds that normally would accompany me on such journeys.
Without my outlet... no pages for me to write on, explaining what I see and capturing that moment through my words.


No, this was not a time for the usuals.


Just me. The world and me.

And I walked.

No...I didn't walk.

I...pushed forward. I was moving in such a way that you could tell I needed to get it all out.

All I could focus on was moving forward. Move. Move. Move. Keep going. Pick up your feet.

I could hear the rubber squeaking on the bottom of these old, white leather shoes.

I walked...moved faster.

Until I made it to my bench. I sat there.

My bench.

I looked out. At the view from that one day in April. The cars...the shining water..the boats...the buildings. You know.

I tried to smile to those walking by me, but sometimes it was just too much. And I'd have to hunch over..covering my hair with my face.

Then...after instead of going back...I kept going.

I it all out even more. Keep going.

I found myself at the swing set of a park. And sat down...and swang. A little blonde girl next to me--with pink and black striped socks--looked at me curiously with her big eyes, as she spun round and round on her stomach. I smiled with my lips closed, looked forward...and just swang.

My mind was blank. I was just pushing forward. But I could still feel.

A few minutes passed...or who knows--really--how long it was. I did not have a watch. I did not care about time. That was what was beautiful about all of this.


I went back the way I came. But this time, I wasn't pushing forward. I wasn't walking either. No, I was...cautiously stepping.

Step. Look out. Stop. Hold on to the loose, plastic green fence.

I saw every angle.

I made it back to the bench. And it was at this point that my mind started to form coherent thoughts. I finally thought about everything that was going on.

All the problems.
All the cries.
All the issues.

The constants.

But then, something happened. I started to think about each person in my life. In my mind, I heard their names. I saw their faces. I saw faces of people I hadn't spoken to in..months. People I'm not necessarily close with, but who had a mark on my life. And I thought about the difficulties in their lives. And for each person, I felt their pain. It was awful. I sobbed for all of them. For everyone.

And here I was hunched over, silent tears flowing down my face. My face in my hands.

And then, I got up and continued along the path.

Stop. Look out.

Picked up some flowers. Stuck them in my pocket. I have a large yellow one and small purple, orange, and red ones. They're still in my pocket.

I needed to go to the corner of that street.
The one you know. The one you've stood at with friends. The one where you were so close.
The one I go to when it rains. The one I go to sometimes to look at the sunset and the view.

I made my way there. And walked up and down the red curb. Over and over again. I picked up a stick. I whipped it through the air. I made music with it as I banged it against the metal of the fence. I saw the cars moving..saw them stop at the lights. I'd never noticed that. I saw the sailboats. There were 9 of them, coming in as the sun was starting to set..though it was still high in the air. Five small birds appeared at my right and sang a 3-minute song.

I kept looking out, gripping tightly to the stick.

Then I skipped home.

I still have the stick.

1 comment:

  1. Very poetic.
    I enjoyed it very much.
    Beautiful writing style.

    Is any of this true?
    Or is it just artistic expression? (Also known as 'a nice way of stretching the truth', if you ask my opinion).

    Anyway, very beautiful either way.
    Lovely blog.
    Keep at it!