sweetbriarpoet
Flower Fortune- Sweetbriar: Poetry and fragrance.
family I fell in love with someone new,
who with flushed lip and heaving chest
binds me to this very place:
a beating heart in an aching breast.
Time following my open soul
and listening to a parting whisper,
some wordly spirit takes up my pain
and a higher being becomes the listener.
I was swept away today by a headache so severe I was forced into the hospital. Migraines have never been a problem for me, but something like the ticking of the clock or the wind blowing through the cracks in the wall filled up my head and made my brain explode. I had been reading in the morning, out loud, a small book called Mirror for Humanity , a book on anthropology, history, and politics. My little girl, Belle, was listening to me, letting out little sighs when I wasn't talking about tools or jewelry or showing her pictures. Her blocks were on the floor, and she picked them up, stacking them on each other until she reached the verdict they were too high. Then with a swift hand and a self-satisfied smile, she pushed them over, letting them fall in a crash onto the hardwood floor. Gabe was sleeping, he has been exhausted since the flu, and has an irregular sleeping pattern that I am not able to fix right now. In the middle of my bed, he lay, with his favorite blanket clutched in his small fist. Ginny was next to me on the couch, propped up slightly with pillows and gurgling as she chewed a small, stuffed elephant. Christopher and Christian were watching a cartoon downstairs with their father; sometimes I could hear a laugh float up to me. Rev, Oliver, and Trinity were outside in the backyard; throwing a slightly deflated basketball around and rocking on a makeshift swing that hung from a disappointingly short tree.
There was not enough noise to trigger anything in me. Every noise I had heard many times before, in a much louder volume and never individually. But as I read on, the words in front of me started to blur and a throbbing pulse began to beat behind my ears and down through my neck. By the time I had called for Harry, I was laying on the couch, nauseated, while Ginny cried beside me and Belle picked up her blocks to be polite. When I reached the hospital, the doctor told me, You're under too much stress. My answer was, I'm living aren't I? Of course, he answered. But you must rest in between living.
That is just not something I am willing to do.
There is too much work to be done.
Academia is a hard thing to wrap
the mind around,
slowly becoming one with the spiritual and the factual,
the sky and the ground.
The world does not stop for those who cannot
think fast enough.
who with flushed lip and heaving chest
binds me to this very place:
a beating heart in an aching breast.
Time following my open soul
and listening to a parting whisper,
some wordly spirit takes up my pain
and a higher being becomes the listener.
I was swept away today by a headache so severe I was forced into the hospital. Migraines have never been a problem for me, but something like the ticking of the clock or the wind blowing through the cracks in the wall filled up my head and made my brain explode. I had been reading in the morning, out loud, a small book called Mirror for Humanity , a book on anthropology, history, and politics. My little girl, Belle, was listening to me, letting out little sighs when I wasn't talking about tools or jewelry or showing her pictures. Her blocks were on the floor, and she picked them up, stacking them on each other until she reached the verdict they were too high. Then with a swift hand and a self-satisfied smile, she pushed them over, letting them fall in a crash onto the hardwood floor. Gabe was sleeping, he has been exhausted since the flu, and has an irregular sleeping pattern that I am not able to fix right now. In the middle of my bed, he lay, with his favorite blanket clutched in his small fist. Ginny was next to me on the couch, propped up slightly with pillows and gurgling as she chewed a small, stuffed elephant. Christopher and Christian were watching a cartoon downstairs with their father; sometimes I could hear a laugh float up to me. Rev, Oliver, and Trinity were outside in the backyard; throwing a slightly deflated basketball around and rocking on a makeshift swing that hung from a disappointingly short tree.
There was not enough noise to trigger anything in me. Every noise I had heard many times before, in a much louder volume and never individually. But as I read on, the words in front of me started to blur and a throbbing pulse began to beat behind my ears and down through my neck. By the time I had called for Harry, I was laying on the couch, nauseated, while Ginny cried beside me and Belle picked up her blocks to be polite. When I reached the hospital, the doctor told me, You're under too much stress. My answer was, I'm living aren't I? Of course, he answered. But you must rest in between living.
That is just not something I am willing to do.
There is too much work to be done.
Academia is a hard thing to wrap
the mind around,
slowly becoming one with the spiritual and the factual,
the sky and the ground.
The world does not stop for those who cannot
think fast enough.
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