Tuesday, July 19, 2011
We have learned to be brave, intelligent, hard-working, ambitious. We have realized that you can never judge a book by its bespectacled, mysterious, small, bushy-haired, carefree cover. Forgiveness is vital, that we shouldn’t dwell on dreams and forget to live, and that we are always stronger together than apart. We know that it’s levio-SUH, not levio-SAH, that even the smallest person can be a hero, and that our expectations for schools are now impossibly high. Red, blue, green and yellow aren’t just colors and to always keep a bezoar in our pockets, just in case. We know to never pity the dead, to sacrifice ourselves before others, to never doubt the power of a library and to have faith. Above all, that the most important thing we have in this world is love. Because our love will keep this story alive. It doesn’t all end here, because we won’t let it. We aren’t merely a fandom. We’re a group of people who have been touched by the greatest story ever told, and therein our hope lies.
In the words of the incomparable JK Rowling, the woman who has changed our lives forever, “The stories we love best do live in us forever, so whether you come back by page or by the big screen, Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home.”
Thank you, Harry. For everything
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
I am eight, and my family
Is on the pier at
The beach. I see the swells
Of Long Island Sound, the
Seagulls emerging from air
And land and sea in a raucous
Chorus. I smell the air wafting
From the cold seawater, and the
Distinctive must of the pier’s old
Weatherbeaten wood. My dad is
Pointing out the islands, and
Grandma is correcting him with
Kind amusement and telling us
Of her own adventures at
Different beaches, in different
Times. And her white glasses
Mimic her white hair as she
Laughs, her purple-weined hand
Clutching a cane, and I
Smile now, in the remembering,
Even though she won’t swim
With us ever again.
I tried to stop myself, I really did try
but the water was so inviting
and the air was so humid
and I knew they were your jeans
that you had bought just
two weeks ago from our
and I think most of the
saltwater smell will come out
in the wash. I’m sorry.
you should jump in with me.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Tuesday evening, around 5:45 pm:
I’m screwing up.
No, really; you don’t understand how bad this is.
My brain is about to implode, collapse in on itself like
One of those fancy chocolates from a box someone gave you on a holiday--
That one chocolate that you expect to have a hard center
But instead smashes under slight pressure,
Saccharine filling oozing out in pain and defeat,
The fragile shell surrounding my volatile psyche breaking apart
Into splinters of cocoa butter and shriveled efforts curling up into the fetal position.
I’m waiting for this to be over.
My voice teacher told me the other day,
“Keep the energy spinning, let it vibrate.”
Well, my energy right now is spinning
Like the engine of my mother’s car,
Eating itself to death because of a cap left carelessly unscrewed--
My energy is dying, along with most of my desire to do anything but what is required from me
But I can’t even do That much,
So all my self-sabotaging thoughts converge on me,
Circling me like we’re about to start some cheesy tango
In an overdramatic, nationally televised dance competition
And they intend to dance me till these fingers hurt,
Till the pressure building up in my temples explodes and my
Thoughts and fears drip down all over long black stage curtains and fellow musicians,
The ones who know what they’re doing,
The ones who have no reason to feel scrutinized or embarrassed or ashamed.
I want to reach higher levels of musical ability, but how can I do that when
Exhaustion and frustration butter the rungs of the ladder going up to the little control panel where I turn on the “mental processing” switch?
My fingers and my brain have ceased communications,
Old friends who suddenly stop talking over some trivial disagreement
And cannot seem to resolve their tiff until years later when it’s too late to matter anymore.
I can no longer sing through my fingers;
They cannot speak intelligently, with all their information locked away
In a coat closet corner of my brain.
They do not traverse the black hills and ivory valleys like the frequent fliers they are;
These travellers somehow develop vertigo,
And I have little to no control over where they decide to wander off to in their
Drunken, unthinking stupor.
The mental haze settles in the back of my eyes,
Rendering them next to useless in trying to read or fake the next tricky chord changes.
What is wrong with me? Why didn’t I do this
Yesterday, last weekend, ages ago?
I’m a disappointment to myself,
To the people around me who thought we would sound better but
Aren’t sure why we don’t.
My prior arrogance embarrasses me, makes me regretful.
I just need to get through this moment, and the next two hours of moments like this one.
Maybe just once,
I’ll play something decently enough
So I don’t stay completely grim for the whole rehearsal.
But then I just have to rely on muscle memory and luck.
I just need to pull myself through the swamp reeds
To the promised land of water and shelter on the other side of the river.
You question me, and all of a sudden
Without my consent
Without my desire my voice
Slips out of my control
And the words I’m shouting
In my head--
Strong words, confident words--
Are trapped behind my voicebox like...
Like fumbling actors looking in vain
For their lines, like...
Like tall men awkwardly trying to
Tip-toe through a labyrinth
Full of broken glass; all of them
Hesitant, no matter how much
They wish to save
The play or run
Through the maze with
Heads held high and proud
And so even though I struggle and
Fight to keep the frightened horses
In check, the reins
Slip, the rider cries out and falls, and I,
Left on the ground far from my
Destination and without a horse, am
Left with no control
No control! None at all!
And that frustration alone,
More than anything else,
Forces the words stumblingly,
Haltingly out from where they are
Clenched between my teeth
In an ugly drip-drip of words
Slowly calcifying in brittle stalactite spears,
Easily crushed in the careless vibrations of your
Voice, telling me louder, louder! I can’t hear you!
Crushed to the marrow-yellow dust of my weak words
And even more mortifying I can hear the
Agonizing onerous pace of my
Struggling speech, dragged out to tortuously
Slow proportions-- god, a child of two could
Express herself better than I at
This moment-- that makes you relent,
Because you think
I’m going to cry.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
The person that you were
I was to caught up
In a silly love triangle
And my heart
My stupid heart
That made me fall
So madly in love with you
I knew it couldn't last forever
But now that your gone
I realized how lucky i was
To have been able
To call you mine
And I want to thank you
For the special memories
That might cause me
Heartache for a while
But will end up
Meaning a lot to me
In the future
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
There is nothing more
For me to live for
You were everything to me
You weren't just a friend
You were something more
Someone I truly loved
And now your gone
Just like that
And the memories
I have of you
Haunt me like a waking dream
Silence suffocates me
As I lie away at night
Waiting for the tears
That won't come
I let you into my heart
And now I play the price
For loving you to much