Archive for the ‘My Writing’ Category

Many Things

January 21, 2018

Many Things
I have done many things. I have been to many places, seen things I wished I hadn’t and things I wish I could have kept forever. I have been good but I also have been normal. I am flesh and blood; I feel deeply. That has often been my downfall. I care and when I care I care too much. I want to keep those I love forever. It isn’t often possible and when they’re gone, I can’t understand why. I don’t know where to turn, who to seek. My heart wanders in the deep snow of a New York winter. I am done when I cry. I fall apart.

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The Tea

January 14, 2018

The Tea

By the kitchen counter—she sits next to the kitchen counter. It is warm there. The steaming cup of tea helps her forget the wind outside and the cold numbing her not young anymore hands. It is one of the best times she’s ever had—with a book, her animal companions and the tea. Harsh life is gone for a few minutes; pinching pennies and not having enough money—none of that exists. The tea works its magic. She is a young and lovely woman again. She is her real self.

 

Your Strawberries

January 10, 2018

Strawberries

I remember everything about that morning—the morning of your death. You loved strawberries but I couldn’t give you any. You used to look up at me when I ate strawberries and you would have stolen one or two if I had let you. I remember the man taking you up and putting you on his shoulder. They had just given you something, a sedative, so you wouldn’t feel anything. I remember the man placing you beside him in the dog pound van. I followed you in a taxi because I was not allowed in the van with you and the man. The taxi driver was a rough and tumble kind of guy, not the person I could confide in. He would not have understood how unhappy I was and that losing you was the last thing I wanted. I saw you on the floor of the dog pound when they gave you first one, then 2 injections to make you die. I did not want you to die, but you were so ill! You would not have lasted much longer. You would have been an unhappy German shepherd with no working legs. Our walks would have been a thing of the past. I have never forgotten you. I can never forget you. I know you have all the strawberries you want up in Dog Heaven.

 

Don’t Know

January 10, 2018

Don’t Know

You don’t. You don’t know. It is insecurity—it is more than insecurity, more than looking up in the dark at the lights shining inside an apt. or house. It is being hurt over and over again and not knowing what will happen next. It is expecting the worst from life in spite of all the good wishes of this or that person. Homelessness—homelessness does that to a person. It rips the person apart, makes the person feel devastated and terribly alone in a snowstorm.

 

 

Last

January 8, 2018

Last

He spent his last days in a small apt. His skin had developed bed sores. He could barely move. He had difficulty lifting his head. The weather was extreme that year, with high temperatures breaking records. Someone had to go to his small space by the wooden wall and ask him if he needed anything. His eyes would look at the person. He could not even bark. That last evening he got the meal he loved most—steak, potatoes and his favorite sweet stick. He slept until they came for him. A large man wrapped him up in a huge towel and carried down to where the truck to the vet’s office was. His owner was with him until the end.

 

 

Somebody

January 8, 2018

Somebody

She had once been a great woman. People had loved her. They had respected her. Her hats and stylish outfits were copied by all the women of her acquaintance. She walked with her head held high. Her jewels came from the finest stores—Tiffany & Co., Bulgari and Cartier. She knew how to talk to people. She knew how to listen to their problems, often forgetting that she had problems of her own.

She only wore makeup because it was expected of a woman in her position. Her brown eyes, big and expressive were her best feature.  Her skin had no blemishes. She had come up the hard way, starting at the very bottom. If I can do it, she used to tell her women friends, you can too. Look at me! Look at what I got! High society men ask me out on dates.

In her later years, no one would have guessed her splendid past. The sadness in her eyes aged her by more than 10 years. She coped by staying home as much as possible. Her friends had stopped trying to reach her a long time ago. She walked her dogs twice a day; otherwise she stayed in her safety zone.

 

 

 

 

 

Words

December 13, 2017

Words

Words—I want them to mean something. I want the words, my words, to be heard and listened to. Words—they are such important words. I utter words of hope and longing and love lost and never found again. I utter words that I had trapped inside me. They had to come out; they had to be expressed. I don’t know what I would do without words, my words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Push

December 11, 2017

The Push

The man stood in his hospital gown. Is this the suitcase you wanted? She asked him. The stuff that you asked for is inside. No, he answered. I WANT THE BLACK ONE! The black one was too big for me to carry on the subway. I WANT THE BLACK ONE! Well, you can come to the apt. to get it anytime you want. I WANT IT NOW! I am sorry. Did you bring a coat? There is a coat in there, she told him. Look and you will see a coat. I don’t want that one, whatever it is. I WANT THE ONE YOU ARE WEARING. But it’s cold outside. His smile was grim before he answered her. Yes, and I am going to be outside to feel it. He walked towards her and started to unzipped her coat. No! No! She managed to say. His hands were hard; she fell on the ground. Help! Help! Someone opened the door of the hospital room. What happened? A couple of nurses helped her up. Security was called. They said she had been assaulted.

 

Confidant

November 28, 2017

I can. I can confide in you. I can tell you everything. I can trust you with my secrets. I can trust you with what’s deep inside my soul. You are me and I am you. We are.

Why?

November 28, 2017

Why should it? Why does everything that happens to you happen to me too? Why should I care if you are sick or are going through a difficult time? Why is that so important to me? There is drama in you. There is lots of drama, lots of up and down, almost at the precipice moments. I care. I truly care. Figuring out why is something I have been doing since the day I met you.