boo

a few weeks ago i mentioned the difference between south africans and americans.

another thing i want to add is this:

in america, girls shave their legs. boys do not.

in SA, girls shave their legs, and SO do BOYS!

ahhhhhhhh

can't tell you how many times i'll be out with friends and feel ashamed that my guy-friends legs have a cleaner shave than mine!

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

what is up with THAT?!

*huge laughter*

for real, its a little un-nerving. and a bit funny.

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i'm the worst blogger ever. when i really get going with something i really want to share, it ends up being pages long. ahhhhhh i just can't edit myself! sorry, friends! 

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i wrote this earlier this month. ok, ok...a few days ago *smile*

it wasn't meant to be a poem. more a leaking of my soul from my heart...

a venting.

a hopeful venting, for sure.

and a desire to reaffirm for myself, that death

is what brings new life.

Fall

can it be march is almost here?

almost peeking around the corner?

taunting to me...‘fall is coming.’*

fall comes.

ahhh fall comes.

the sweet season of death for new life.

the leaves dance.

float

high.

blown about in the nightsky.

enriching the ground.

the process starts anew.

death for new life.

death for new life.

death for new life.

and, for me too.

death for new life.

his death, my life.

my death, new life.

leaves frolic in the sky.

my branches lay bare.

a swollen tree stands bare.

stripped of its covering.

nothing shielding the heart, the bark of who he really is.

lonely tree standing tall.

no shelter against the wind.

all the forces come pounding

hoping to uproot, expel the roots.

death in the fall.

death in the fall.

death in the fall.

tree stands strong.

wondering if his roots are deep enough?

will he withstand the onslaught

of forces beyond his control?

lonely tree you stand upon a hill.

nothing warming the shivers the night air brings.

rain, snow, hail, ice fall from the sky.

cold, cold, cold.

bare,

but still you stand tall.

spring arrives.

the tears shed, fallen to the ground.

new life begins.

little buddings of hope sprout on 

achy lonely limbs.

green against brown. colors of life.

green and brown. colors of life.

green and brown.

new leaves. 

standing no longer unshielded. 

swaying in the breeze, a respite,

nourish me! he cries. 

he prepares again to

kill his covering.

over and over.

so new life can again grow.

stronger the next time.

lovely continuous cycle.

death, for new life.

death, for new life.

new life.

this was all written in response to a song i wrote almost two years ago. well, it began two years ago. it finished itself this past nov.

i travel, always, with pen and my journal notebook.

i remember driving across the PA turnpike in the hight of fall and having to pull over to write.

so i did. 

i sat on the side of the road, and 10 minutes later i finished.

when songs start, they come fast.

always.

this is a photo from that day.

(clearly, i did not pull over to take the photo. priorities people. i break to write. i sometimes break to phototake.)

*remember, peeps...i'm in the southern hemisphere. everything, including seasons, is reversed. *smiles*