IN OTHER WORDS | e.c. studio works

“You have survived harder things.”

You Have Permission To... You have permission to Envy the ones whose losses Never amount to much growth. Be thankful that you cry Every time you see a cat food commercial. Just like me. Just like you. We can’t adopt them all. I am talking about cats. Just to be clear. You have permission to Carry the weight of the world On your shoulders. They are expansive enough To hold the sleeping dreams Of those not yet born. You have permission to Feel like the Walking Lost Living on this planet That wants nothing to do with you. But let’s turn this around. You have permission To lead them out of their mess. They just might be shy And afraid to ask for clean-up in aisle 5. You have permission to Covet the ones with babies And the stretch marks That are the opening lines Of a love letter. You have permission to Believe that things will work out. Push back to a time When you were in the throes Of childhood games. Playing make believe. And move time back further Into a scene where you Could play baseball with your brothers Until the streetlights came on. And your stomach signaled That a bowl of pasta Would do just right. Right then.

Be Willing to Fly Away. Looking inside And finding myself outside Moving away And getting closer To my assignment for the day. Could I help you Find nicer accommodations? My seven-year-old eyes resurfaced As I took it all in. A winged beauty in waiting. How lucky that You will be beautiful one day. Could I grow six legs by tonight? People chatting, people bartering, People complaining and People hugging strangers. I scooped you up with The weight of a whisper. Teach me how to become worthy. By the roots of the oak tree The one that offered me shade and comfort I found you your new safe house. I wish I could have given you my address So, you could visit my butterfly garden And see how hard I labored To bring you a bouquet so spectacular. if you survive long enough To fly over the earth And catch a glimpse of me Let us flutter around and sip on the nectar And remember our first encounter When we both hoped to grow wings.

Instead of Hiding Behind the Velvet Curtains. Instead of hiding behind the velvet curtains Attempting to get around a losing hand, Let me say this… It came off of me like my grandmother’s coat. That hung in the hall closet, Reeking of moth balls and her night terrors She secretly stashed away in the lined pockets Filled with my grandfather’s loose change. I will not carry her melancholy And the coat goes to Goodwill tomorrow Right after I give her demons permission to leave. Let’s skip a generation. Or three. One size does not fit all. Hers were a little tight around my neck. Instead of hiding behind the velvet curtains Let’s just call it life. With a lower case “l.” It does not have to be a great life Yet. It does come with baskets full of missteps. But the world will engulf You in a fiery embrace In a guarantee written in your sorrow That tomorrow will bloom. With your tool belt And your backup singers, You will be able to Produce your own garden of delights. Along with a few feisty thorns Just to keep things interesting.

A List of Things That Don’t Suck. Much. Getting up before the alarm goes off. Just make sure it’s not 3:45 AM. The tulle from a ballet outfit from years ago. Eyeglasses that make you think you look smarter. First kiss. The first really good kiss. Why can’t I remember that? People who get me. Really get me. All others need not apply. Letting a ladybug lie in state in my bathroom. Painting by my own rules. All other rules need not apply. Deep, rich chocolate that won’t stretch out my pants. Who cares if it does. Visiting polar bears in Central Park Zoo. Telling them that I will be back to liberate them. Dancing in the streets. Driving the wrong way on Second Ave. at 3 AM on a Sunday morning. And not getting caught. Knowing that I will probably die alone and being okay with that. Who needs any more drama? Never chipping another tooth for as long as I live. Eating a whole strawberry and finding out that I am not really allergic to it While in the emergency room. Walking up five flights of stairs. Wearing every single piece of jewelry That I have ever owned When I meet up with you again. And you telling me that I am the only soul Who could pull this off without falling on my face.

Holding My Feelings in My Hands”. Somedays they slip through my fingers Like soapy bubbles that had the assignment to Clean all my pots and pans. But it cannot remove the burnt-on blackness That is thinking about moving in with me. If my spirit had a shape It would walk over and come in for a final rinse. While I hold my feelings in my hands. If I could make a list of My Lost and Found It would surely fill volumes. And the Loss Department Will need to close down for lunch. They just cannot write fast enough. So, I will hold my feelings in my hands. When the sun sneaks out From behind the sleeping clouds It causes me to squint and My sadness appears smaller. So, I can shove most of it Into my carry-on bag While the rest of my pain and disillusionment About what the hell is going on in this world Will be placed longingly into my hands. And you want me to do what with it?

It’s a Hard Time to be a Human. It’s a hard time to be a human. With everything crumbling Under your feet. “If onlys” pop up – learned to dance, ran a mile, or performed a Burpee You might not fall when the world comes knocking at your door. But say hello to a stranger. Stand up straight, do a little throat clearing, Look them straight in the eyes And say, “The world is a better place with you in it.” It’s a hard time to be a human. Plant a vegetable garden In your neighbor’s backyard. This way you will be fed later on. Shovel a timid widow’s driveway When it snows for the umpteenth time. Tips are not welcomed. Donate your books so you know someone else Will go on the same adventures that you took off on. Comfort a child when they cannot find their parents at the local park. Tell a car owner longing to make a left-hand turn That it would be your pleasure and an honor To let them go first. It’s a hard time to be a human. Has the world taken away your courage? Stand up straight, you know the routine by now And hold the door for someone. Put Ten dollars in a tip jar. You do not need to blow into a paper bag after you do this. It will come back to you. Tell someone that their shoelaces are undone. Bend down and tie them. You can ask them first. Listen to how people feel. Let them talk. Nodding your head is a form Of aerobic exercise for the neck. Give some time to yourself. And take care of you. This way you will be ready. Because It’s a hard time to be a human.

I Want to Love the World I want to love the world. Turtle crossing signs. Ears of corn swimming in melted butter. Please go ahead of me. And I hope your child will not feel diminished By those clutching their prayer books. I want to love the world. Birds eat worms. Vultures dine on Dead squirrels who were on their way home. Bears will confiscate the rest of your earthly days While pinching your honey jars. Hundreds of children starved to death today. To death. Today. I want to love the world. If you had written across the sky That I might have deceived you I would have happily spent the rest of my days Painting over your displeasure. But What goes with being a sacrificial lamb on a platter? Hello. I come with my paint clothes on. To cover up your duplicity. I want to love the world. A N D T H E N Travis proposes to Taylor. And the world found a pulse. Again. Children with their heads bent in prayer Will never sleep in heavenly Peace On Earth. I want to love the world. I want to love the world. But some days I just can’t.

The Fall Preview After the lake escapes into the northeast siesta The mountains will put on their own white caps And play hide and seek with the clouds Who dash all over their peaks. The leaves, whether they be proud maple or Timid pine needles, will descend on the earth To bury the flowers with grace and silent prayers. The hydrangeas and zinnias have grown tired of the sun’s rays And our constant watering. It is time for sleep. The branches will strip off all The burdens of the beforementioned leaves And commence with their winter dance program. I promise if you look at their unadorned arms and legs You will see them flowing in and out Just to keep their inner trunks warm. They will be dancing with the stars. Every night when the wind is in town.

Before You Go…Don’t. When you announce that You want to exit stage left, What do you mean by that? I kind of get it. I have been a passenger on a sinking boat without a life jacket More times than I wish to disclose. But I find those little miracles that Carefully wash me back to the shore. And another day. Before you go…don’t. So, besides the butterflies you chase, The wildflowers you plant for the honeybees And the clouds that offer you shade Let us start with who will look for and look out for you: Your cat. I promise she will stop ignoring you. Eventually. In this lifetime. The mail carrier who you overtip during the holidays Because you cannot remember their name. The grocery clerk who confides in you about Her ailing mother and her own missing teeth. The voice on the phone who is trying To get you a doctor’s appointment in less Then six months. The pizza guy who always asks If you want extra eggplant on your two slices. You do realize that he has a young man’s crush on you? The dry cleaner who made sure that the replacement buttons all matched on your shirt After you ripped them all off. And they wished you a better day. The unhouse woman who was crying and shaking Dreams of winters in the South of France. You walked home without your coat that night. You caught her sniffles the following week. The hair stylist who wanted to cut off a few extra inches And you stopped her Edward Scissorhands’ hand Before she made you look like your mother. The seven-year-old boy who you dance with Each and every time he sees you around the neighborhood. You wish his mother would join in But you feel her fear of being judged. So, you send her endless silent hugs. The old boyfriends who think about you Oh, yes, they do. You hold onto their youth While their hair decided to abandon them. Ah, isn’t Karma great? Am I right about that? The friends who stand in long lines just to meet you. That “one true love for now” who Strolls down Madison Avenue and wonders,” Did I just pass my soulmate?” And even if they do not find you… yet There will always be Another young man to dance with. Before you go…don’t.

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