Auschwitz

My elation is a blind guide dog

Confidently propelling himself

Through the still waters of the ocean.

 

Now, my individuality can flourish,

Away from those who had oppressed me

And rendered me sightless.

 

Your betrayal was a lockless safe

Abandoning my trust

To those who wanted it most of all. 

Changing

The snow gently fell

Upon the great willow tree.

Cease the vibrant green.

"If only, If only..."

(The woodpecker cries, "... the bark on the trees were as soft as the skies.")

If only you had never been denied her... If only she had never been taken away from you, ripped from this life so cruelly. 

If you had never been denied her, I would never have been denied you. 

She was your first love and should have been your only. But fate took her from you, leaving you torn and broken, never to be whole again. 

You were my first love and never should have been. I should have met you, whole and at peace, never feeling the desire to mend the un-mendable. Like trying to fill an endless void, my love was pointless. 

Your heart is still with her, and mine is now with you. What a vicious cycle of heartbreak fate has laid out for us.  

I only hope it stops here. 

Dreams

Lately, my dreams have been dominated by you. If you aren't the center of my thoughts, you are always on the outskirts, just waiting to find a weakness in my concentration. Perhaps my dreams are beginning to mirror my waking thoughts. Never a day goes by that don't think of you. Maybe my mind has had enough.

The first significant dream was quite surreal. My dreams are often rather realistic but occasionally I know that I am dreaming before I ever wake. This was one of those instances. I just had a rather terrifying horse accident (being flung through the air and into a tree) and I was in the barn reliving my horror with others and the shock that I was not injured. You came through the door as if you had been there the whole time. I was delighted to have you with me and hugged you as soon as you were near. Then, I continued my cringe-worthy account of the accident. Moments later I asked the others where you were. No one knew what I was talking about. They said that no one else had been there and maybe I had hit my head harder than I thought. But I knew you had been there. I had seen you, felt you, hugged you. I knew you were real. And then I realized that, just as in my waking life, that you were still in New York. Hundreds of miles away and not coming back for two more weeks. I knew something was off before I ever awoke.   

Because that dream stood out in my mind so much at the time, I remember it with the most clarity. Revisiting it countless times kept it as fresh as the day it was dreamt.  All the others have fogged over in time since I did not bother to revisit them in my mind. 

My most recent dream of you was much less surreal but slightly more cryptic. We were in a dark movie theatre, holding hands as we often did. Cloaked in darkness, to me there was no one else, no one else mattered. Not even the movie. Especially not the movie. You extended a gesture so tender and trusting that, even outside of reality, I was floored by the significance.  You leaned towards me so that our faces were flush, cheek to cheek. I knew that for you, this must cause much pain. But I sensed no heat. No outward signs of the agony that must have been coursing through you like a white hot fire. You seemed as content as I. Then you whispered that we could never let them know. 

In reality we had done this many times. You allowed me to explore what caused you the most pain, emotionally and physically. I had the pleasure of caressing your smooth, soft face. Feeling it against my skin, against my own flushing cheek. I know that I hurt you many times, always by accident. It was evident by the crimson glow of your skin and the heat that emanated from it. But you never complained - not seriously at least. You always let me know when I bumped you by accident. But I cherished those moments of tenderness. I longed to hold your face, knowing that it was as painless as my own. I knew that it could never happen. 

So many months on from our reality, I am still dreaming of you. I try to forget, but, really, that is the last thing I want. To forget what we had. I feel the pinpricks behind my eyes travel down my arms to my fingertips as I allow myself to remember. Even my subconscious is longing for the happiness that came with those moments. I hope that, one day, my dreams will again be my reality. 

If Wishes Were Horses...

Odd News #7 :: Summer Makes Me Lazy

I admit it. Summer makes me a lazy procrastinator. Not that I am never lazy or that I never procrastinate [I do enough of that for three people, trust me]. Summer just multiplies my sluggish sentiments by approximately 250%. 

Anyway, now that I had admitted my innermost secret to all on the interweb, I will reveal to you, my dear readers [you do exist, don't you, dear readers? If not, I think I qualify as slightly psychotic, considering that I must be having conversations with myself], exactly what struck me as being so odd, I had to share. And that, my dear potentially-non-existent/in-my-head-readers, is a 70 year old Indian woman giving birth to twins.  

Yes, your eyes do not deceive you. A seventy year old woman successfully gave birth to twins. This news, courtesy of the Daily Mail , was rather shocking to me. However, with IVF gaining in success and popularity, it should be no surprise that even women with children conceived the natural way still want to have children past their prime. Apparently way past their prime. 

To clarify, I am not condemning IVF as I am an in-vitro baby myself. Nor am I condemning women who chose to have children well into their 50's and even 60's. However, I am questioning the morality of bringing a child into the world whose parents may not live to see his or her first birthday.

Considering that the average life expectancy of a woman in India is 71.9 years, the new mother in question may not indeed see her twins take their first steps or babble their first words. In addition to that, she is doing good to even be alive at the moment. According to the CIA World Fact Book, the average lifespan of the entire Indian population is 69.25 years. 

When making the decision to bring new life into the world, I believe that you should consider the quality of life the child will have. According to the Daily Mail, all the Indian family wanted was a son. A son to inherit the wealth, the farm and get a dowry from his future bride. What happens if both his parents die within the next few years, his adult sisters are not willing or able to take on another child and he ends up in an orphanage? How is that productive, let alone moral? It is possible that the family will surprise us all, but I do have my doubts.

More power to her for taking on such a laborious task at such an advanced age [no pun intended]. I just hope that other aged women will consider their potential unborn child before spending thousands on IVF treatment. 

Its Been too Long

It has been a long, emotional and stressful month since I last wrote anything. Since the reason for my emotional turmoil would be reading what I write, I decided to just take a break so I would not regret something I had written in an emotional frenzy.

Anyway, I'm still quite emotional and in the process of writing a song. Weird for me, but whatever. I decided that maybe I should post something I have written before instead of something new so I don't focus on said emotions.

I chose a personal essay I had to write for college counselors. It was written in only a few hours and had little to no editing and I know it is not of the best quality. However, I feel that it really conveys who I am. But maybe thats because I already know that... Anyway, I suppose I should let you decide for yourselves. 

Equine Passion

     I walk in the barn, knowing that the wonderful scent of hay and horses will soon grace my nostrils, bringing a flood of memories with it. A sense of comfort envelops me as I walk through the barn because I know I am in my element. The feed room, filled with dust and hay is my first stop. I take a moment to enjoy the sweet aroma of hay before I fix the feed for the horses. With the banging of feed buckets and the rush of grain, the horses know what is coming.  I hear them whicker in excited anticipation. That whicker is a soft low sound reserved for those they care about and those who feed them. I fall under both categories. With the clank of the buckets and the rush of feed once more, I have three contented horses.

     Unlike many “horse girls” my age, I live for these moments. As much as I love riding, venturing through the woods, jumping fallen trees and winning in the show ring, I am content doing nothing but caring for them. I expressed these feelings from an early age; I got just as much joy out of feeding and grooming the horses as I did riding them. I also learned through observation how to diagnose and care for sick horses; I helped with many whose owners were too busy to bother. I would stay up with my instructor and hero, at the time, taking turns walking and watching horses that may or may not make it through the night. Experiences like those left a long lasting impression on my memory.

     Now, at the age of sixteen, I am on my own with my own three horses and parents who are willing to lend a hand. I have successfully given injections in the jugular and, in one case, put my whole arm in my horse’s mouth and into his throat in an attempt to alleviate his choking. It worked, my horse is fine and I still have my arm. I don’t know of many people who would be willing to risk a limb for their pet, but my devotion to horses is above and beyond that of an owner-pet relationship.

     I consider horses to be partners in sport, companions and friends. This is a difficult concept to convey to someone who has never connected with a horse, but I believe that such a connection has made me a stronger person. Horses have been my comfort throughout tough times and still have the ability to brighten my mood whenever I am around them. I can’t imagine what my life would be like without horses but I have a feeling it would be rather dull. I know that, without them, I would join the ranks of the masses that have never had the wonderful experiences that a horse can give.

    Horses have undoubtedly shaped who I am and what I will become. I’ve seen a horse foal, watched many grow up and gain a personality of their own. I’ve been with dying horses and seen them defy all odds. Because of my many equine experiences, I think horses have helped me grow as a person and mature more quickly than many of my peers. Horses have always been there for me and I plan on being there for them for the rest of my life. Horses are my passion.