Tag Archives: Emotions

Living In Two Places

I started writing this while we were in the process of moving.

We’re driving back and forth between the new house and the old. It’s an 8 hour drive each way, though this last time was 13-15 hours. I lost track.

I always struggle with big transitions, and I’m never aware of how much until the transition is over. We’re experimenting with a slower transition to Seattle. While this is delaying the acquisition of a P.O. Box for us, it is providing me plenty of time to enjoy the scenery of the Pacific Northwest along I-90.

There are quite a few lesser known towns and cities along our route that have incredible tourism potential if you want to stay within range of a cell tower. They all have access to trails or other outdoor sports year round, while also offering options for the less outdoorsy-types.

For our next trip west with a load of belongings, we’ll be starting in Missoula, Montana. Missoula offers a unique culture and downtown, plus the benefit of a growing airport with Westphalia rentals. Unlike Bozeman, you can’t get direct flights to Missoula most of the year from anywhere except Denver and Seattle, with the occasional Salt Lake City or Minneapolis option available. Seasonally, this expands to include Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Phoenix, and a few other destinations that have changed based on demand throughout the years.

I-90 mostly follows old US Highway 10.

You can still visit parts of this route in cities like Wallace, Idaho, where I-90 bridges over the old road. Wallace is an adorable town that warrants more tourism, especially in their incredibly well preserved historic downtown. There are plenty of parks and green spaces. As Americans itch to travel post-vaccination, but border closures limit us to cities within our own borders, I recommend checking out what Wallace offers.

I hope you’ll consider checking out these destinations 🙂 Just be sure to check avalanche conditions along route 90 in advance.

Bones – A Poem

Content warning: may be triggering to those that are experiencing emotional or traumatic struggles. Reader discretion is advised.

Photo by Sebastian Hages on Unsplash

She started smoking again
Feeling bones by finger curls
And the nauseating hunger
For someone to understand
The hard lumps under skin
And the satisfaction of a visible scapula
Under the crushing, suffocating, smothering
Weight of ten pounds
Against the pull of Earth’s gravitational force
When the greatest ally against one condition
Becomes the pain of another
Hoping that at the end of this cigarette
She will find the cremated remains
Of her claim to have it all under control


The comments section is reserved for those that feel connection with this poem to share their thoughts, feelings, and experiences. Moderation is only for preventing spam and trolls. This is a safe space.

A Lesson Never Learned – A Poem

This poem first appeared on Curensea after being written in 2007. I have made a few minor edits.

I chose this poem based on many thoughts coming up for me over my lifetime while living in the United States. I grew up in Virginia and found it strange that I could live next to a Holocaust survivor and then move to a town with an active KKK chapter other kids at the elementary school nonchalantly talked to me about their parents being members of. My parents explained what that meant when I asked. Same with the Neo-nazi rallies in Yorktown, Virginia – you know, that place where we apparently “won the Revolutionary War”. What’s so revolutionary about it anymore now that you allow those kinds of rallies there? But Virginia did. My parents felt powerless against it because the courts ruled in their favor on the grounds of Freedom Of Speech and Freedom Of Assembly and that was used to argue for social tolerance of intolerance. Now, here we are, being asked to tolerate violence against each other as that too becomes normalized.

A statue face from St. Mary’s cemetery Missoula, MT, photo by Lo Potter

A Lesson Never Learned

It came up through the floorboards,
Zyklon B reaching forward through time
Ripping at our throats,
Forming itself around our nostrils
condensing into blue ice, after being trapped in the cold
of existence.
This depressive state of humanity
Seeming only to slumber in its death
Released the gas upon itself,
Using the world as its chamber
Many can claim their innocence
-besides-
Innocence through ignorance is the best kind
While dictators commence genocidal rampages
Using ill-earned power to rape a people
destroy their very creation of a God,
And yet, for those who are suffering:

The strongest woman I (n)ever met
sat crying at the grand opening of the Holocaust Museum
She surveyed the surrounding young people
Generations too young to remember or know what
She Survived
Walking through in awe of their own misunderstandings
She looked back without a single failed memory
Her arm exposed so everyone could see:
the vining rose tattoo that grew
out of the numbers that changed her life forever


Thank you for reading this poem today. The comments section is reserved for your thoughts. Moderating is only for preventing spam/trolls – I approve as quickly as possible and approval is only needed once to post without moderation on this website.

Prima – A Poem

Prima

She listens to the world move
[beat,
two-three,
beat]
like old people listen to talk radio.
And flutters in her own world,
wild thing,
she programs an image to her brain:

reality

it crashes.

Much like a ballet,
she falls when she fears the music is stopping.
[pressing her cheek against her knee]
Then valiantly she jumps and spins,
[twirling
two, three,
spinning
two, three]

But eventually, all music ends;

fallen on the stage

alone.


If you connected with this poem, the comments section is for you to share your thoughts and/or experiences. I am grateful to anyone that chooses to share – I make that space for you. Thank you for taking the time to read this poem today.