Covered

because i have lost it
the reader within me
the writer within me
kept silent by society
as i walk carrying
dripping wet shitty diaper
across creaky floors
and dog barks waking baby
and 7-year-old tears up
because i threw away the tooth chip
that she spit out of her mouth
after she fell off broken branch
and my oldest begs to watch
while the dishes fill the sink
and the cousin dazes under allergy meds
and the person i used to be?

she is the road through the forest
captured on a Tennessee run
while we run from Tennessee
while i run from Tennessee
tree-covered tunnel
going nowhere

because i have lost it somewhere
along that empty road
covered, covered, covered in leaves
how they block the woman i could be
the mother i could be
the view into a new tomorrow
that’s just around the corner
that i can’t quite see

roadpic

Listening

they’re all moved in
park hill home to make their own
while we still search
for the right place
to slip our toes into

i see them now
through my little-girl eyes
and those of my full-grown self
through hate and love
and all the broken hearts
between now and then

she will only see
the broken hearts

and that is why i stay
that is why she goes
that is why i hear the hollow voice
of my mother when she says over speaker,
i am finally home
that is why i hear it

Causes

his side of quiet
a whisper instead of shout
four calls later, lost

The Ultimate Ruler

I was walking to one of the last classes I will teach after spending ten months in Spain. In the hallway were various groups of students ranging in age from twelve to seventeen. Just as I was weaving my way through them to get to my class “on time” (give or take five minutes—it IS Spain, after all), I heard quite a bit of shouting from a group of boys down the hall. The level of their voices made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck as I immediately sensed danger. Was there an argument that would lead to a physical fight? Would someone end up on the floor?

I looked down at the group, and within seconds I was reminded, once again, that this was no American high school, no American set of adolescents, but rather, the smiling, jubilant faces of boys shouting just for fun.

Teachers here don’t have to worry about guns, knives, drug busts or gangs. There’s almost no such thing as violence of any kind. It wouldn’t even occur to most Spanish students to throw a punch or make a threat. They joke and play and spend their lives outside of school soaking up American video games and movies, filled with violent acts and destruction that is excruciating for a weak-minded girl like me to watch. But they would never actually do any of the things presented in what is to them a fantasy world.

While this year hasn’t been easy on my family and I, I have great appreciation for some aspects of this culture. So many times I’ve had Spaniards ask me, “Why does America think it needs guns? Are we living in Biblical times? An eye for an eye? Haven’t we developed more as a society?”

It is ironic that the ruler of the free world takes our freedom away every day by making us live in fear. When are we ever going to be able to wake up not having to worry that our children can go to school and be safe from some psycho who’s armed enough to defend an entire nation? When will we see an end to the political banter that ends nowhere, so afraid of stripping a singular right from the great Bill of Rights, when we all know the historical (and presently not applicable) context with which it was written? When will we begin to realize that violent acts are NOT A PART OF EVERYDAY LIFE?

Are we really born more violently than the rest of the world? I don’t think so. We are born with the same choices in life, to choose the right or wrong path. But more and more, as a society, the wrong path seems to be more tempting to Americans than to anyone else on Earth. We have a culture that has a far-reaching influence on the rest of the world, primarily through media. And yet… rather than adoring it, admiring it, wishing that they could be a part of it, I have a feeling that most foreigners would admonish huge segments of our society. No public health care. Universities that cost more than anyone could ever afford to pay. And guns available to every man, woman, and child…

I wish I could say that I look forward to going back to America with the same excitement I had about coming here. In so many ways I do. America will always be my home, will always pull at my heartstrings and be at the core of who I am. But living abroad, even for the brief period that I have, has made me question the values of my country more than ever before. How phenomenal it would be for my girls to go to school and never witness a fight, never have to worry about who’s carrying what, never have to have a lockdown or hide behind desks because an armed criminal has escaped.

In Spain, there are rowdy students. Disrespectful students. LOUD students. But there are no fights, no guns, and virtually no violence. It is so easy to say, guns don’t kill people, people kill people… but what are we really saying when we make available the ultimate weapon? The weapon becomes the ultimate ruler of our society, and its violence trickles down into the tiny cracks of our humanity… through the Internet, the movies, the streets… the hallways of our schools.

When will we be able to walk the hallways of our schools, the true foundation of our future, without feeling like prisoners? Something needs to change. How many people need to die for us to realize that something needs to change?

Big Brother Wins

It’s time to say goodbye. I tried editing. Removing posts. I started with the word drink as my post searcher.

Twenty-eight posts. (I might mention that I have 1,058 posts, the rest of which do not contain this word, but would it matter?)

During my search, I read about the beauty of my girls on a glorious Sunday. Of parties I’d had a great time at. Of weekend joy and love. Of coworkers having a moment of happiness after work.

And, gasp, about that awful thing that almost everyone I know does after work, but I’m not allowed to do since I’m a teacher.

This is one of the most frightening novels I’ve ever read. It bothered me so much when I read it, but even more now. I feel I share this room with Winston:

For some reason the telescreen in the living-room was in an unusual position. Instead of being placed, as was normal, in the end wall, where it could command the whole room, it was in the longer wall, opposite the window. To one side of it there was a shallow alcove in which Winston was now sitting, and which, when the flats were built, had probably been intended to hold bookshelves. By sitting in the alcove, and keeping well back, Winston was able to remain outside the range of the telescreen, so far as sight went. He could be heard, of course, but so long as he stayed in his present position he could not be seen. It was partly the unusual geography of the room that had suggested to him the thing that he was now about to do. (1.1.12)

I sit here now in my living room in Cartagena, Spain. I have spent the greater part of two weeks sharpening my résumé, rewriting my cover letter, and completing online applications so that I can bring my family home.

They are counting on me. Trusting me. Just as they did a year ago when I told them we were coming here.

I cannot let this writing, soul-fed, heartbreaking, ever-too-honest writing, keep me from providing for my family.

And so, just as Winston faced his biggest fear of rats, took his sip of ever-bitter gin and ended the novel with, “I love Big Brother,” I am going to have to concede.

Big Brother wins. I am taking down my blog. And with it, so many pieces of my heart that it will never beat quite the same again.

Cartagena, 1 Febrero

i know you can’t see
what i do on this month’s first
green beauty my blood

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Calle Dieceocho

he remembers us
five months later we’re still here
just now we can speak

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When I Come Home

windy uphill ride
ended with teddy bear warmth
symbol of our life

La Conquista Fashionista

“que guapa” all day
they love how i look like them
Fascist fashion, Spain

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When in Spain…

students abandoned
danger lurks behind lawsuits
never fear in Spain