TURNING IT OFF

Today's sanity requires
turning it off--the TV, the radio
the internet, Facebook
the non-stop drivel about
Boston, about bombs
about dead people
about evil and terror
and people who bring
their bigotry to the conversation
who think bomb-for-bomb
is a reasoned response

I care that they are dead
I do; my eyes are leaking
about all these deaths
and the world where
they are common
like red light-green light
where it's on a timer
regular consistent
where we barely flinch
anymore, where we are
reduced to sighs
and going on about
our business
as if this violence
is not our business

but if I'm going to be worth
the revolution, I have to turn
it off today so as not to
go numb, sigh myself
into despair, make myself
crazy from the helplessness
of it all, wild and crazy
from the lack of answers
turning it off
so I can be on when I 
need to be.

© Valerie Bridgeman
April 19, 2013

WAKING UP

We wake up to wonderful world
wrapped in warzone like fear
the terror and the trauma
seeping into the open wounds
of our souls--

pray they are not fatal, these
wounds blown open by bombs
and hateful words, by the way
we cannot trust the world
to be safe--we have evidence
to support this suspicion
this wonderful world
sleep to its wonderful Self
and now, only now, wrapped
in warzone like fear
I wonder if we will ever
wake up

© Valerie Bridgeman
April 18, 2013
POSTED LATE on April 19, 2013

THE NOT POET--POST OF AN OLD POEM

I have stared at blank

pieces of paper

waiting on the ink of my tears

to fill pages with wisdom,

with memory, with love

and nothing

the muse has refused

me at every turn,

she silent in the way

a toddler pitches a fit of silence

angry that I have neglected her,

or at least not cooed over

her accomplishments

and she is accomplished

having brought trophies

before, turns of phrases

pretty in sunlight

metaphors so sound

they still reverberate

in space

she knows I wasn't paying attention

that I was caught up in the business

of making a living

and refusing to live

so, she went silent

and said--in effect--

let me know when you're ready

to know the truth again,

when you're ready

to rhyme it into existence

when the wastelands

of economics cease to fascinate

you and I'll be back

just let me know

so now, I--the not-poet--

pine for her,

looking out the window

for the dust that trails

the coming car on a country road

long for her,

straining for some hint of her

and if you get any glimpse of her, friend,

well

just let me know.

© Valerie Bridgeman

July 20, 2011

KEEP GOING

"Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me..." Psalm 23:4

Just keep going

darkness creeps you out

and you want to turn around 
but you're closer 

to where you want to be 

than from where you started

eventually you'll have to make the trip anyway... 
this is the way life is. Full of deep

dank valleys with overgrowth and you can't

see your way out; just keep going

push back the branches, swat away gnats

watch for snakes, don't swallow mosquitos

and don't stop... just don't stop...
the path has rocks and twigs
turns down and up and twists into what looks

like dead ends until you're up on them

and there, just when it seems like there's no

where to go, it opens up and there's another step

to take and another, and the road widens

for a moment and a little light from the moon

shines in the dark and you can make out

some distant horizon 
imagine jackals along the way, 
and hear mountain lions

low growl announce their presence

you learn that mountain lions are not evil--

they are just predators and you are natural food; 

this knowledge is necessary as you watch in the dark; 

it is the way of life that big cats hunt humans, 

that danger lurks while you make your way to safety

that death stalks us all, makes a mockery of our bravery, 

bares its fangs in the density shrouding the night

but don't stop walking through the darkness

past the overgrowth, don't stop even when fear

grabs you by the throat, strangles you into 

submission, claws at your skin; just don't stop

because fear will fade with the steps

and song will come up in your throat

and you will believe that you are not alone

that this journey is never solitary, that your

companions are more than jackal and lion

that you can trust the company

just keep going

© Valerie Bridgeman

April 17, 2013

DRAFT/DOES NOT FEEL FINISHED

DAY AFTER BEANTOWN MARATHON BOMB

I have no poem for the blood that flowed in Copley Square

23,000 marathoners

a half a million spectators

cheer them on

on Boylston Street
near the movie theater
across from Old South Church
and the Boston Public Library
just a block from the painted
finish line
runners while business folk
walk looking down at iPad
or iPhone texting or talking
and looking up now and then
at runners in this annual ritual
with homeless people
selling Street Papers
for a dollar and a smile
and here on this street
in this city where runners
meet pavement and goal
and a chance to make
history

here blood stained ground
banner of hands de-fingered
palm down press detached
from arm, eyes shocked
and legs turned in opposite
directions--like they don't 
know each other

and why do we say "innocent"
when we speak of dead children
as if all the adults now blown
into pieces that will never
be puzzled together again
are somehow--in this moment--
deserving of pellet riddled
bombs bursting in air
laced with nails
for maximum damage
on Patriot's Day
suspended between
12 seconds--one boom!
and smoke surrender
to panic
while people wonder
what the hell just happened
buckling legs
missing foot
chest open
back flayed
across yellow painted
lines at mile 26
with point 2 left
to run for the little
girl running for 26 people
dead in Newtown
and the 8-year-old boy
the first sacrifice on
this altar of hate

© Valerie Bridgeman
April 16, 2013
The Day After
DRAFT
Because I had to write something about the bombing at the Boston Marathon

PUNISHMENT

silence is a weapon, sharper than knife

quicker than silver bullet
will make a vampire stop in her
tracks, remind her she is bloodsucker
undead not worth life

silence can punish better than
40 lashes than water boarding
can make agent orange
seem like red Koolaid
like watermelon dripping down
chins down arms; silence
can make electric chair
look like chaise lounge
like rocking chair to rock
to eternal sleep


silence can accuse and prosecute
for not being perfect, for making
grossest mistakes that ends
relationships 

silence can say
you no longer exist to me
better than a text message
than note to self 
than note to
ex-everything-you-ever-thought-you-were-to-me

silence shouts I don't care 
what happens to you 
why don't you do us all a favor and die


silence makes the voices in your head
loud insistent true
say you are no good 
 are not worth forgiving
committed unpardonable sin

silence whispers
you take up too much 
room on the planet
why don't you yield your space 
to someone who matters

silence can beat
the very breath soul
out of you 
make you feel like
what's the use of going on
it can manipulate
you into the truth that
anything is better than you

© Valerie Bridgeman
March 28, 2013
EDITED April 15, 2013

TEXT BACK TO A SUICIDAL FRIEND

*After receiving a text that says, "please pray for me"...(and so much more)...

Oh baby, please. 
Yes. I will pray  
as you ask
as you want
as you wait for answer
whether to keep trying
to live
I love you
live
please
live

I pray the shooting pain
through heart and lung
will stop will leave you be 
will not consume
Oh, friend
my friend
dear One
I love you
as I pray
as you ask

Stay on this planet
get to the doctor
stay on this planet
take the medication
stay on this planet
live
drink water
lots of it
breathe
take another breath
breathe some more
don't stop love
don't stop breathing
and some more
breathe

stay with us
believe the love
around you
get to the doctor
take your medication
breathe
feel hug and tight grip
feel me try to keep 
you here on planet
in your skin uncut
by razor 
in your head
in tact
to be 
to hug
to hold
to love
to hug
and laugh

oh sister-friend
I pray for the pain
to stop hurting you
my love
breathe
take another breath
breathe some more
don't stop
don't stop
just don't stop
breathing
living
being

answer your phone now
I'm breathing with you

© Valerie Bridgeman
April 15, 2013