memory

Once You Left Us

Those who have lost,
Shall not mourn,
But instead remember the pleasant past,
It’s hard,
I realize that now,
Which is why I’m ashamed,
We don’t realize how much life is worth,
Until it’s too late,
And we’ve lost something,
Not just something,
But someone,
It’s hard to think it’s real,
It’s just and ordinary day,
But it’s not,
Things will never be the same,
And the worst,
We can’t go back and change it,
Prevent it from ever happening,
But we shall lay them at rest,
Wishing them peace among the worlds,
Whether it be ours,
Or the dead’s,
We pray for those who have lost,
And for the lost one’s.
May we all find peace happiness.

-lissa<#3

bright spring green
too long sleeves
hood falling
over her
upturned face
wandering
down memory
lane she feels
like a little
kid again

Four-wheelers, dirt bikes, dirt jumps, rocky road, long trails; this is life I wish I could go back to right now. Jordan, Minnesota is where I long to be, the place where you can always smell hot dogs or hamburgers being grilled, spaghetti or macaroni and cheese being cooked. It’s the place where the dirt is always flying, as well as the people; the place where friends and family are jumping on the leave covered trampoline or swimming in a dirty pool. The atmosphere that surrounds is almost uplifting. You can talk to people, and they love your presence, no one fights anymore, even if you are in the same family. Everyone always has a smile on their face as if to say “hi, welcome to my home.” It’s my utopia, my place of Zen and peace. My cousins live in this wonderful place, it’s their home, and always will be.
Every time my family visits, I finally feel accepted, because people like me for who I am, not what I look like, or how I act. When we arrive, the guys, and sometimes the girls, have mud all over them. This would be because they have been either four-wheeling, or dirt biking. G-Dogg is their team name, they named themselves that after their father, Glen K*****, who died a while ago from Dermatitis, which turned into P.C.P. pneumonia. Without him, many of the team members would not have been born. The rest who were not direct family, were taken in by Glen and treated just like his own kids, brothers, or sisters. Glen put so much passion into racing, that he structured his life around it, and lived for it. He is missed by all, and his legacy lives on in their team spirit.

hard, cherry-scented
sweetness like
the taste of childhood
and sticky lips;
cracking into
tiny, translucent bits of
memories that
add up to:

just
one more flavor
to add to the list
of:

things I'm afraid
will always
(always)
remind me of:

you.

You’d trip,
And fall down the stairs
He would say,
“If you’re gonna be stupid,
You better be tough.”

You’d be riding your bike
You’d hit a bump
And fall forward over the handle bars
He would say,
“If you’re gonna be stupid,
You better be tough.”

You’d drop your fork underneath the table
You’d bend down to pick it up
You’d sit up and hit your head on the table
He would definitely say
“If you’re gonna be stupid,
You better be tough.”

After a while you think,
All this is,
Is common sense,
You just like to hear him say it
You would wait,
And think,
And then act stupid again
He doesn’t say a thing.

You cry yourself to sleep at night
Wishing he would,
Say it just one more time
But he can’t
And you know it.
You just don’t want to believe it.

Right about now,
He would probably say,
"Toughen' up,
Buttercup."

But tears would still
Be falling