My God...How Did I Get Here?




AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I can't stand my own children! Screaming, whining, fighting, smart-mouthed nightmares. Someone get me out of here and away from this. I just want to sleep for a year, in a nice clean motel room near the sea somewhere... somewhere WHERE NOBODY CAN FIND ME. Friday night after a grueling day at Binder where I worked like a maniac on one summary letter, making argument after argument to convince some stupid judge in Texas that the palsied, mood disordered senior citizen applying for SS benefits actually could not work. Also turned the page of a medical record and came upon two technicolor photos of some poor soul's hemorrhoids. I put my head on the desk, somewhere between laughing and crying. Now I am home, it's 8:15 and Sponge Bob is on. My house is a mess. I think I am going to get an ice pop and join kids on couch. If you can't beat em....

Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.


Mary Oliver