Another Poem Post

*This poem is called a ghazal. It's a traditional poetry form from Pakistan, Iran, and northern India and it's way fun to try and write them. It might read weird at first, but give it a chance. :) I won't explain the rules for it, just look them up on Wikipedia (as long as our stupid government doesn't destroy the internet). Anyways, here it is:

Here’s to You

I wrote you a song, but you might never hear it
There's a box of your things, not a chance I'll go near it

Now I question the questions 'bout you in my head
If my thoughts were a playlist I could just clear it

If we were a sandwich, would you be the jam?
I'll be peanut butter, just try not to smear it

Or if you weren't a vegan and we were a steak
Would you brazen or broil or pan-fry or sear it?

And if our love was a fish just floating along
Would you admire or feed or simply just spear it?

Well, the rudder fell off the love boat we were on
But with all hands on deck I bet we could steer it

So I'll raise half a glass to the long-shot we were,
If love is a battlefield there's no reason to fear it

A Poem Post

I Never Wanted to Fly

I never wanted to fly--not just because
I'm scared of heights
but because what if I tried and didn't get quite high
enough to be part of the sky. . .

And for the rest of my life I'd have to lie and tell you
I'm fine, while I look back and die
a little each day.
Regretting that this dream of mine
shriveled and shrunk to two-thirds the size
of what a dream ought to be.
That might kill me.

Like the morning your eyes reached
for my throat and I wished. . . I wished
I could go back and tell my first lie all over again.
Make it much more grand than it wasn't me
I'd say that it was.

Although I know I'm not what you want I was once
what I wanted to be.
And then I turned six and tripped and fell
on a playground of stones and sticks with words
that hurt more than I'd like to admit
with kids in their cliques where I never quite fit.

That's when I think my dreams began slipping;
sinking into those cracks where I began tipping
way too far towards insecure
and I lingered--
and hope fell through my fingers
like the books you saw me drop that day.
I'd say it wasn't me you saw,
but you were there to see
firsthand that I wasn't what you wanted,
anyway.

So I told a new lie--I never wanted to fly.

"...so kiss me and smile for me, tell me that you'll wait for me..."

In about 8 hours I'm heading to Salt Lake International airport to catch a flight that will take me away to Moscow for a bunch of months. Naturally I've been listening to John Denver's Leaving on a Jet Plane to psych myself up for it. But it's not working as well as I hoped. There are some things that have always been hard for me--leaving is one of them. It's always been like that. I'm not really big on change.

I've got this thing where I get attached to people really easily. Sometimes I try to not get attached but some people are sometimes so attractive--gravitationally, not necessarily physically--that my efforts sometimes are sometimes in vain. And that's a lot of sometimes. It adds up. Then, before I realize what's been going on, I'm all wrapped up in a bunch of people that have no clue that I feel this way. I'm really good at keeping it hidden since I never really open up. These people I speak of are the ones that make saying goodbye hard. God bless them. Hard goodbyes are some of the things I like. I even said a goodbye to my favorite bench on campus.

Don't get me wrong, I'm looking forward to my travels. It's going to be quite the experience. I'll see to that. All I'm trying to say is that I love that I love some places and people enough to miss them when I'm gone. Even if it is only for a bunch of months.