Acceptance

01/16/15 | by Shareen [mail] | Categories: downtown girls

The bar in Cambridge,
blues and greens
as preppies like
But he was Portuguese
Sexy man
Who taught me about freedom
We shared a love of the truth
His Pulitzer
My business
Our hearts lived
Apart and at a great
And comfortable
distance

And his first kiss on
Valleyheart
When he argued
For his limitations
Daring me to love
Him anyway
Nine years later,
three cats
and laughter
I’d dared
And lost
The argument.
Friendship
Now
Trumps all

And the intense stare
across the theatre
Eyes locked
A slow, understated
Approach
I thought was sexy
Only to find
he was just depressed
The black jaguar
The penthouse
And me
Sitting
Patiently
Beside sadness

And how I lost
three years there
which weren’t as fun
as three years lost
in a trailer park
along side him
in the pick up
Marlboro reds
and flamingoes.
Real, sexy years of tequila
And jerkey, Montana and shooting ranges
He had a glock
Under his pillow
We’d have been ok anywhere

And then there was Yale
And the Olympics
And shells on the Thames
And the river Charles
A green Porsche
and the secret society
His book
My glamorous job
Endless betrayals
his with others
mine
by absentia

And he had a lisp
and was a valet
and loved me like
No other and
I wanted to make him
my Pygmalion
and I could have
If only
We hadn’t lost a child

And one I distrusted
hypnotized me
And another
dying to love me
left me dying to be free.
And one I adore
Is out of reach.

Finally, I look
Back to my father
And wonder why,
he hurt me so.
No sympathy requested
No complaint here stated.

As I lay dying
I read the swords
(Like on the tarot card)
Betrayal,
Compromise
Confiscated
Robbed
Raped
Cheated
Liar
Loss
Absent
And finally,
The last
So what.

I saw him
The other night
Resurrected
in a golden orb
His face shone
With a gentle pride
At me.

“I did it
all because
I loved you
And your
triumph is
My job
well done.”

I may be late
To the library,
to the party
To discover
Wiki
I may be late
to You tube
And behind
In the polls
But I am not
surrendered in pain
I am triumphant with
Understanding

I am “it”

And “no"is my best
friend
And “yes” is its great cousin

How might I
Find my man
Until I know
The man in me?
She who asserts
And discerns,
Establishes boundaries
Is on her side
And behalf.
She who fights for her best
And takes no prisoners.
She who knows
Her worth
And protects it
With ferocity
She who would be him
if he were to arrive as me
Man.
Mine.

Comfort

01/15/15 | by Shareen [mail] | Categories: downtown girls

The most
gentle
of calls to
rise,
tenderly rain
touches the spirit
with the softest of
nature’s dance

and in the white
tranquility,
tucked warmly
under
the wing
of a swan,
Eyes yet closed
against the day

I heard
I listened

Lifting
Shimmering
Kissing lightly tree branches
Whispering through
Falling leaves,
Carried
To heaven

a voice
Light and clean

I held
My breath
To receive
Her message

“in the arms of…..”

The note
Was carried
Open
As a cry
Broken hearted

Breathless
I held
Open
The door.

“an angel,
may you find……….”

and again a caress
Tumbling the
Length of
A shattered body,
A hand
made of
tenderness
sharing, taking
the suffering of her
beloved

“some comfort here.”

The comfort of
angels is here.

my
first
on another
blessed day

A New Year

01/08/15 | by Shareen [mail] | Categories: downtown girls

It begins.
The first
new day
of the first
month.

A new year
is 365
new days
Thank God.
May we
have them
all.

Resolve only
to love
yourself
with
all
of
your imperfeCtionS

Pray only
that you love
others as
you do
yourself.

Love is
90 percent
forgiveness.

It’s ok.
All of it.
The good.
The bad.
The ugly.
The wrong.
The false.
It’s ok.

We are human.
None of us perfect.
Love is all.

Forgiveness
makes it so.

He sings……
” the power
of your heart,
the power of
your heart.
All around
the world
just to bring
you back,
that’s the power
of your heart.”

Pray it.
Whisper it.
Sing it.
Scream it.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Another year
lived,
another
offered.

Happy, indeed.

I love you,
Shareen

Acceptance

01/08/15 | by Shareen [mail] | Categories: downtown girls

It has been a year
Of growth.
The pushing
Through soil
Is not delicate
For the
Tender sprout

The debutante arrives
Out of the
Discomfort
Of puberty.
White finally
Becomes her
Marriage
Into self acceptance.

I bid him adieu.
The kiss
Was lacking
And I’d spent
Too much on my
Nails and
Blow out and
finally
The affronting
Wax.
He wasn’t worth it.

If you would
not try
so hard
Making your
Discomfort
My seduction,
I might
Approach with
Willingness.
What you offer
In acceptance
Encourages.
If only
You would offer
It to yourself
In equal measure

Humanity

10/10/14 | by Shareen [mail] | Categories: downtown girls

It was a day off. I got up early and made my organic french roast, freshly ground, french pressed coffee. I wrote for a while, just to clear out some thoughts and then read until my deeper voice came. Mid-day my guy Patrick from the Pest Control people came to see if all was quiet on the western front. Sure enough another little rodent was caught in my attic crawl space. ”I think this is finally the last of them,” he said. ”I’ll check on you next week.” As he left, I felt safe. I felt well cared for. I am safe. I am very well cared for.

I went to the gym. I work out at Equinox, and my favorite of all their locations is downtown. As you get off the escalator, you are greeted by a magnificent waterfall in the center of a breath taking open courtyard . The buildings framed against a sky defining blue become modern art. The light and shade play against glass and metal and water, and often I think to come back and spend the day, right there. I am filled with gratitude each time I step off the elevator to head into the gym.

I rode the bike and watched the news, drank water, texted, read mail, instagrammed. I did some incline walking on the treadmill. I spent ten minutes on the rowing machine. I took time to breathe and stretch and do abs in the dance studio. Alone there in the quiet, I closed my eyes and felt the ease of my good life. I have a good life.

The night before last I began work on a poem it is long and intense. In one moment of it, I ask, “When the buildings fall, and when the bombs break, and when the guns blare, and when the hunger comes, and the babies starve, and the water rises, and land dries up and the mothers cry, Where is God? Where is God? Well….. where are you? Where are you?
Why suffering? Why pain and anguish? For us, perhaps, for us to pick up the job of humanity. Perhaps for us to learn to love beyond ourselves.

I stopped by my store. The air in the great space was fresh and the light clean. All was in order. I enjoyed my team and we studied a few new designs and spoke of our growth. It is so apparent to me that we are expanding organically, easily, beautifully and with so much love. The work we are doing with our amazing clients is very rewarding. I am rewarded.

I drove to the bank. I had checks to deposit. I still get residual checks from my days acting and had a 1700 dollar deposit to add to my normal earnings.

On my arrival I saw a young girl holding a large cardboard box of chocolate bars. She was in a plaid jumper and had on poor brown shoes, socks barely to her calves, a little yellow blouse. To her side was a child. Perhaps her sister. As I put money in my meter I felt the resentment come up in me, quickly. I felt it so quickly come up that feeling of “here we go… I don’t want to buy chocolate from her and I hate how she has been placed at the door of the bank, no less, and the little one too, to tug even more firmly on my heart. I have important things to think about, and I will look preoccupied, and I will be busy with myself, and perhaps I can put my face in my phone.”

I turned and saw her, petite, maybe 14, her thin brown hair parted to the side held with a plain bobby pin, and she caught my eye and smiled with timidity and eagerness at once. As I took the four shallow steps up to the bank door, I relented.
The mind and the heart sing in harmony so quickly, sometimes.
I turned to her, ”Are you selling those for your school?” “No,” she said, “I’m a senior and I am trying to save up to go to college.”

“How much are you selling them for?” I asked, looking into the box and a large collection of thin, poor chocolate bars. “A dollar each,” hopeful, smiling, her retainer catching the light. I nodded and with a sigh, ”Well, that is going to take a while.” I reached into my purse. I opened my wallet. “Are you a good student?” I looked at her. ”Yes, I am.” ”Good,” I said. ”Good, I am glad. What is it that you want to study when you go to college?” and she replied,”I want to study micro biology.” (Dear God, let me find a million dollars in my wallet.)

I asked the little waif, the little sprite by her side, looking at me with eyes like the moon, like a puddle, like a my own heart, I asked her with a teacherly sweetness if she could count out ten for me.

She moved so quickly to it, to live up to counting, to show me that she could, to respond as if to an order. There was so much desire to please and I held my breathing steadily to telepathically steady her. I passed a ten to my little sales girl and took the ten bars of chocolate from her assistant and I asked if at one dollar a bar she made any money on this. She nodded her head with an “of course” as if my question were ridiculous. “Yes,” she said, smiling so openly, “yes, I do”. She reassured me. She then blessed me.” God bless you,” she said. I thanked her and let her know that he does indeed bless me. I smiled at her a sad smile and turned away with my self satisfaction and ten bars of chocolate I didn’t need.

I went into the bank and made my deposit at the window. The teller smiled at me seeing the ten bars clutched awkwardly in my hand.
I took my receipt and as I passed the ATM I heard it, the harmonized voice of my mind and my heart and in an instant I decided to be God.
Why not? Who else? I withdrew 100 in cash, stepped out the door and said, “Count out the whole box. Lets see how many you have there.” I looked up and behind her now was our waif and she was in the arms of her mother and to her side, another woman, also a mother, or an aunt perhaps.
“You are done selling these for today.” And as she counted them, oddly in threes, I spoke into her heart, I placed it into her mind, I took her by the shoulders in the certainty of my voice alone….” I know you will get to college and I know you will do great things in this life. I am very proud of you for being so committed.” She counted 43 and I passed her 43 dollars. Out of her hands I took the box. She looked at me with disbelief, with gratitude with un-merited awe, “Thank you, God bless you.” And then both women,”God bless you”
I looked into her face and with all my heart I said, “I only wish I could send you to college. I wish I could take care of it all for you.”
She reached to touch my hand and we met at the edge of the box of chocolates, She said. “Oh, that’s ok. Thank you.”

I walked to my car and as I opened the door I felt my heart expand and wondered why I was crying.
My heart breaks for her.
My heart breaks for her.
I want to run back and find her, and take her, and make her mine. I would bust my ass every day to get her through college. I would lay it all down for that one little girl standing there, on the steps of the bank selling chocolate bars for a dollar a piece, having made 53 dollars today of which she may keep perhaps 20…. to save… to go to college.

She will get there. Not that way, but she will get there bit by bit, one person at a time, one ounce of love and consideration at a time.
I love her for her faith. I love her for her open heartedness. I love her for trusting that she will go to college to study microbiology.
She will.

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