Necklace

Yeah, that necklace

With the deep, deep blue ceramic bead

"To represent the canal, or the sky, or the morning mist over the mountains

Or maybe your favorite camp toothbrush"

Well, my toothbrush is green.

The necklace from the camp on the canal

With the oyster beach and the barnacle rocks

Where the fairies dance and the otters sing

And the old man's beard grows so, so long

That all the birds make nests of it

That necklace

For the timid five year old who was too brave not to climb a mountain

For the eight year old who came twice in the same summer

For the eleven year old who thought maybe she was getting too busy

Too busy for courage

For adventure

For laughter

"But I'll come back," she promised

"Someday."

For the eighteen year old who did come back

And when they asked her "Do you remember?"

Was too shy to admit it

But who could forget?

That necklace

Some people keep theirs in boxes in the corners of their rooms so they won't ever lose them

B. wears hers whenever she's especially nostalgic

S. keeps hers on a hook by the door

So that when the house catches fire, the necklace will stay with her

I don't take mine off.

But ohhh dear, that necklace

Drops of another world

Of plastic, or ceramic, or marmot fur

Or maybe just magic

Marmot fur is for garlic pita and copper mines and snow

The light blue is for finding constellations in the sea

A pink for jellyfish

More blue for warm August days

Lavender for sheep jokes and dinosaur trees

Green for building a fire

Yellow one for bug bites

Sapphire for singing to seals

White for making dream catchers and tye dye

Magenta for singing about moose and alligators and Tuesdays

Another magenta, for fairy houses and friendly trolls

More magenta, for salal and trilliums

And white, white for scraping pots and clearing trails

For dehydrated marinara and egg salad pitas

For pocket rockets and bilge pumps

For wild woozies and spider webs

For mountain goats and polar bears

For counting the bees and chasing the clouds

For giants and sparrows and butterfly breaths

For starfish and cedars and banana slugs

For heroes and villains and pirate hunts

For alpine meadows and barnacle bays

For windsurfing

For discipline

For fairy dust

So I don't keep a camera, just a notebook and some thoughts

And soon enough the thoughts will run away

But even though the notes are smeared and wearing through in spots

I know for certain that necklace will stay

She Speaks Urdu

This poem hit me in the face as I was walking back from lunch and then it had to be written.

She Speaks Urdu

She speaks Urdu

She is French down to her core

But she speaks Urdu

To make her smile a little more

Because it takes her far away

And she speaks it because it's odd

And just a little bit absurd

And maybe energizing and maybe serene

Hoping to let go

Of all she's clenching with her hands and with her heart

Hoping to let go of  everything she has

Within her heart

Have you seen her?

Have you seen her on her toes

Dancing ballet

It's a game she has to play

Even she knows

It will break her bones and leave her feet with scars

But if she gives up

Someday she may forget how to stand up straight

And lord knows

What will happen if she cannot stand up straight

She loves fashion

And on days when she's upset

She gets dressed up

On her worst days you can bet

Her eye shadow

Will be every shade of blue

But it's never overdone

And days when she most wants to run

To the wilderness and hide away and

Play with the chipmunks all day

Or steal away to Rome

She wears high heeled boots to keep her walking home

And her paintings

Oh but you would not believe

How she paints them

Splashing lilac on her sleeve

Dripping fuchsia

On her finished hardwood floor

And the skirt she bought last week

Has a long sapphire streak

So you'd think she'd be a mess

And that's what she will confess

But her paintings look so neat

And she says they're incomplete

Just the way she thinks she is but

She is not, no, she is not!

At all

The way she thinks she is

She knows better

Somewhere far beyond this trance

She is better

Past the fashion and the dance

She is stronger

And she doesn't need to act as if she needs to act at all

Because even when she lets go of her posture and her make up and

Her boots and even Urdu

Because even when you cartwheel off the balance beam you're living on

The people will applaud you and the ground is not so far

And you can live

And you can live

Without forgetting who you are

Sarah Kay

I know, I should write my own poetry, and I'm sorry if for some crazy reason you don't like Ted talks, and once I pass finals I'll have a whole month of free time to write about New England snows and third world development and lead climbing and Arabic, but I'm busybusybusy right now so this is pretty fantastic and if you like poetry, which I assume you do, it'll be worth your time.

That's all

Spain

The smell of tobacco brings me back to you
And overripe pears and plantains
It seems that in all of the big things I do
A memory of you remains

The dining hall says they serve gazpacho soup
But I know they don't have it right
And our nicest beaches will never compare
With Paseo Marítimo any old night

Inland, there are no chiringuitos,
I never see palm trees out here
And never in all of my travels
Has Africa felt quite so near

Or what of your castles, España?
Where now can I see your fútbol?
I'd like to revisit Casares
And rewatch the sun set on a late summer stroll

So my plans are sprinkled with saffron
I long for your imported sand
With Bécquer tattooed on my esperanzas,
I send my besos to your land

Good Day for a Cry

It's such a good day for a cry

For rinsing my heart below the bawling sky

What wonderful weather for fear,

For finding companions for each lonesome tear

And this is no poetic rain

No sweet summer misting or great flash of pain

No thunder and lightening or roses and dew

But if you know sorrow, this rain is for you

It's such a great day to feel bad

To go break her heart and then watch her get mad

What perfect setting for a fight,

To watch all of his pent up anger ignite

Imagine this weather with shame,

With "I didn't start it!" and passing the blame

And if I were to walk away

I'd certainly do it some day like today.

But what awful weather for joy!

For "here, give a couple bucks to the poor boy"

It's such a good day for a cry

But I pray that soon we'll find a clearer sky

Not a poem

This shouldn't be a poem and it doesn't have a title, but I don't use the prose blog anymore and it needed to be said.

I'm not sure how to tell you
I don't mind.
I don't know how to say
"Please shut up and like yourself."

Those pants do not make you look fat
That grade does not constitute failure
That school has a 7% acceptance rate
He wasn't trying to be rude
No, I don't hate you
Yes, I know you are not fishing for compliments
You are legitimately this insecure.

It doesn't bother me that you didn't go to the gym
Neither did I.
You do not need to make me feel good about myself.
I can do that for myself
Just because I'm quiet doesn't make me insecure
Usually, it's the loud ones.

I am not judging you for
That tattoo
The boy you dated in tenth grade
Your accent
The size of your waist
How you act around your parents
Your thriftstore jeans
The way you sing
Who you slept with last night
How you treated me that one day
I am not judging you
You need to stop judging yourself

Good heavens, don't apologize to me
I don't need your apology and you don't need my forgiveness
I don't need your insecurity
Neither do you.

Please stand up straight when you approach me
Don't mope. I can't stand dogs.
I don't care if you've needed to tell me this for a long time
Stop stop stop.
I wasn't judging you until you showed me you're afraid of being judged.

I'm not sure how to tell you
I don't mind.
I don't know how to say
"Stop whining and just be loved."

Riverside

It's been so long since I wrote!
Don't worry, I'm fixing that. I'm a little busy though.
I love New England.

Riverside
I've found a spot beside the river where the sparrows sing
From my perch on a sitting rock, I can feel everything
A muddy baby brook runs down the hill, hoping to drain
And every so often the trees let go of last night's rain

A birch tree lays upon the path, still ridged with beaver teeth
And I lift up a branch to find a rabbit underneath!
Bright leaves drift down the river but it's clear they're in no rush
And one small jay discreetly steals from a blueberry bush

It's here the autumn leaves release their grip without a sound
Most people don't stay long in that mosquito breeding ground
I chance to see two squirrels pass, preparing for the snow
It'll be a couple months but surely this they know

Trees lean over the river, whispering to the other side
For these days even they aren't sure in whom they can confide
The still water and humid air create an evening mist
What more should I require from life when I can have all this?