family

Van Family

My family is a van:
My dad is the tires keeping us firm
and on track.
Mom is the gears
and parts
that keep us going strong.

My brother is the sludge that builds up,
which isn’t always helpful.
My sister is the loud horn that alarms
us sometimes too often.
I am the brakes,
making sure
we don’t hit any bumps along the way.

~Zach Miles

I don't want you to be lonely.

Your cheeks were puffy and swollen, and your eyes watery, void orbs.
You saw right past me for the first time.

Do you remember when we decided to run away together?
We packed extra socks, a blanket, Ritz crackers and apple juice into a duffel bag and headed down across the alfalfa field behind our house. The afternoon sun beat down on us as we slowly plodded towards the woods, the world...towards everything we thought we wanted.

But something called us back home .
Maybe it was physical hunger, or the feeling of alienation among the deafening silence of the open field, or maybe it was fear.

I grew up after that point believing that we would always come back to where we grew up, if only to feel warm and safe again.
I was wrong.

A victim
and a survivor.

Of what you may ask.

Of an honor killing,
a supposed murder
that kills an innocent girl,
so that makes it honorable.

But this girl had a purpose,
a reason to live
and to tell her story
to all that would witness it.

She was burned alive
by the decision of her parents,
she was saved by kind
city women.
In some places there are laws for this,
like numbers 97 and 98,
which say the murderer
goes to prison for at least six months,
usually they do not stay that long
and are considered heroes in their homes.

Time goes on and laws change,
but not 97 and 98,
they stay the same.

Though the girl has
a second chance,
she remembers her “slave” days
from her childhood.

Which no child,
male or female,
should endure.

From her beatings
she found nonviolent ways,
her peace of mind not there,
but her peace with people is all there.

Her first life
she writes down
into her book, with her
first born child in the pages.

“Rebecca it’s time to come inside for dinner,” Ma hollered from the kitchen.

I examine my camera
I've only had it
For half a year

Kodak EasyShare M853

"8.2 mega pixels"
Proudly gleams
In the lower
Left-hand corner

There's nothing too special
About the camera itself
It's what it's been used for
That captivates me

I've shot pictures of:

A snow fall
That will never fall
Exactly the same
Ever again

My cousin's
Second birthday
Where he sang himself
Happy Birthday
Before snorting out
The candles

Christmas with
My best friend
With my mom and dad
The first Christmas dinner
I cooked myself

Random adventures
With unmistakenly_alive12
My best friend
Where we stay up late
Worrying about sounds
In her house
Writing poetry
Gaffawing about idiots
Contemplating the meaning of life

Normal stuff

I've shot pictures of:

A little harsh word at the end, cave!

He's getting surgery
Again

His stupid job
Has hurt him
Too many times
In too many ways

He flexes his
Right hand
His muscles rippling
With little effort

This might be
The last time
He can do that

It's his shoulder
A worker's comp thing
Putting him
In physical pain

That's nothing
Compared
To not being able

To play catch
To manhandle a four-wheeler
To run a chainsaw
To stir dinner
To start a lawn mower
To shoot a gun
To chop wood

To hug his daughter tight

All the things
That make him
Who he is

I can remember him
Wincing in pain
As he put on his sling
Every morning

Dutifully squeezing
His physical therapy ball
To bring his muscles
Back into function

His right arm
Which once did reps
With my 10-year old body
May no longer work

What the fuck?

I smirk
Inside and out
When you won't
Be with anyone
But me

You're so innocent
That you can
Say those things
Without hurting
Anyone

No matter how much
My day
My week
My month has sucked
A glimpse of you
Turns my life
Down-side up

I'm babysitting you
Your parents are
Out with friends
And you can't fall asleep

My mom tells you stories
I tell you stories
And nothing's working
After two hours
You finally give in

I'm scrunched
Against the wall
So you can have
The bed and pillow

You flop next to me
And I slip my arm
Around your small body
To comfort you
Into sleeping

While we lay there
The slapping of the rain
And the train rumbling along
Passing cars outside
Everything feels peaceful

Life is good

We reach out
To friends
To family
To God
To role models

We reach out
Looking for
Security
Hoping for
Safety

We reach out
To people
Who we can't
Talk to in
Person

We reach out
To people who
Won't email us
Back

We reach out
To people we
Get frustrated with
Who get frustrated
With us

We reach out
Hoping they'll
Do the same
Wishing they'll
Put their trust
In us
Like we put ours
In them

We reach out
Even though we
Just know
They'll never
Talk to us
About it

We reach out
So that we
Can be there
In the rare event
They'll open up
And talk to us

We reach out
Even though
They seem to
Reject us
All the time

We reach out

Why?

They have always
Been there for me,
No matter what happens.
They have always cared.
My mom and my dad,
And maybe even
My litte brother.
They're always there.

I see my mom
As one of my
Best friends.
We like to hang out,
Play games,
Go shopping.
My friends even wish
That she was their
Mom, too.

My dad is like
A Confidant to me.
We can talk
And watch weird
Movies together.
Horror,
Action,
Sci-fi,
It doesn't really matter.
We also like
To build things together.

My brother, however,
Can just be a
Pain in the butt.
Constantly annoying me,
And doing really
Dumb things.
Though we have had
Some good moments.
Playing video games
Or wrestling.

They've always been there.
They've always taken care
Of me when I've needed them.
And I know
That they will
Continue to be there
In the future.

A Reading assignment for the book The Good Earth

Day by day
No sound
No comprehension
Childish needs
Childish laughter
Childish smiles
Flit across a blank canvas
Of hope
Her hands twining
A golden rag
Never breaking
Trust
Understanding
Silent but beautiful she sits
Staring ahead
In her own world
Of love that is barren
From the rich fields that surround her
They stretch on forever
Yet she is trapped in her own mind
Only release the comforting touch of a father
The sweet taste of sticky treats
The care provided willingly
In an only act of kindness
From an almost loveless man
She is his release
Something to care about
Father and daughter
They live
Unconventional
Overdue
But together
With a deep understanding
Only a silent daughter can have

I woke up
half past eleven.

Didn't bother to brush the chaos
from my hair

My memories of you are few
But they're all still
So precious to me
All those times
We were all together
In front of that
Shabby, run down house
But it didn't matter
We always had fun
I remember
Not understanding why
Everyone was so sad
On that day
They told me
That you had died
My aunt was dead
I don't remember the funeral
Or anything else
That involved your death

Until I saw her small family,
part of me didn't believe
she had one.
She's that
independent.
She's young,
but
things I'd heard about her
made me think she was
different.
She brags about
the parts of her life
that makes her mascara
run
in stunted streams
down her face.
I guess the attention
is what keeps her sane.

In the florescent
school hallway lights,

Three

In My Backyard

.
"Wow! That shirt is sooo cool!.... can I have it?"

My Dad

My dad
my hero
flew to JFK yesterday
into New York

Then i hear
A terror plot has just been cut off
they were going to blow up the airport
no more terrorists
but what if

What if it had gone through
my dad woulnd't be here
he would be gone from the rest of my life

No more memories
No high school graduation or
no college graduation with him at my side
no wedding day

My brother is 8. He is turning 9 next week. And he is the greatest little kid i know. He is like anyother brother. Annoying, obnoxious, and a pain. But occationaly, he makes up for all of that. Occationally, he says something or does something that makes all of the bad stuff worth while. He has these amazing blue eyes are dark hair.