A Note to Men…

I am not a man.  I am a WOman. Therefore I do not understand YOU or what it is like to be you.

In the same way….you do not know what it is to be woman.  Just as white has never felt the intensity of being raised black in America…or Muslim in middle East is unaware of what it is to love Jesus there…or Christian’s in America unaware of how they cast that same judgement onto Muslims in America simply because….YOU DO NOT KNOW and HAVE NOT BEEN THEM and are NOT ON THEIR JOURNEY.

I don’t know men.  But they have been brothers to me.  Best friends.  I was raised surrounded by them…competing with them…wrestling with my brothers and cousins, building forts with them…I would grow up to work next to them…working with them in fire departments, running into burning buildings with them, sailing oceans with them, sleeping next to them on the bows of ships in Africa with them, hike volcano’s with them in the Canary Islands, been partners with them on the ambulance and trusted them with split second decisions in team-work that saved lives.  I have climbed rock faces with them and trusted my life in their hands…

They have been lovers.  Sexuality is a programmed thing.  Hormones are something I’m not a fan of…too much EMOTION pent up in strange chemicals that can affect someone’s ability to operate RATIONALLY….in my objective opinion.  Men…are…a mystery.  I am not a man.  And as far as sexuality is concerned, despite my tomboy-sporty-spice outsides, I’m the straightest arrow I’ve ever met.  Heterosexual … his man pheromones are like an intoxicating cocktail I don’t even intend on getting drunk on…yet somehow there is this animal attraction…this HUMAN thing.  It is obnoxious.  Because quite frankly men irk me….so it is annoying to have an animal attraction to something I often desire to headbutt.  When it works as it should?  I’m told its great….

But what does that mean?  “As it should?”  Because I think that’s gray area…and nobody really knows.

They have been monsters.  No woman has ever held a knife to my throat.  No woman has ever held me at gunpoint.  No woman has ever assaulted me outside of that lesbian who spit in my face when I told her she needed to treat her girlfriend like a human and not a belonging.  HA!  No woman has ever choked me till the world went away, pinned me down, ripped my clothes off of me, sodomized me, hand on throat “What makes you think you are in control?”  AKA…no woman has ever ripped my soul open, spit on it, defecated on it, and left it for dead.  – the most owned, humiliated, disgusted, dead on my insides happened when man reduced me to toy.  When my words were background noise and not heard. – Happens all the time.  And the perpetrator’s look like your best friends, your uncles, your store clerk…. wolf in sheep’s clothing.  Men can be sheep dogs or predators, I suppose…If you are a man and not quite sure where you lie, perhaps you should try to figure it out.

Violence seems something men are better at doing than women.  – Tho I’m beginning to learn women can be just as much predators.

Boys:  Fight and fuck.  Men:  Love protect and nurture.  Boys:  Get jealous, greedy, want to OWN.  Men:  Are empathetic and have gained compassion.  EMOTIONALLY MATURE.  (Don’t be upset men…same goes for girls, we can be a nasty breed as well….perhaps my next blog post will be a note to women).

I love men, I can’t stand boys…especially the ones that look like adults….What are YOU?  Don’t forget it’s never too late to grow up and figure it out.

 

I’ll Give You Thirteen Reason Why

IT’S BACK TO THE BASICS!
Lace up those Asics,
How’s the Gatorade taste, Kid?
We’re at the races
and I’m intimidated by the fast pace
it paces.
And times ticking
I don’t wanna waste it,
cuz life is cause and effect
and I have yet to see the affect of me
BUT I WILL!
I WANT TO GIVE BEFORE I GET
I WANT TO NOT COST A CENT
I’m not meant to be a burden
or a pest
I’M AN INVESTMENT!
Cause I’m DRIVEN,
I’m not hidden!
YOU SEE ME!
I’m on Fire!
I love the truth
I’m not a liar,
I’m a lion,
a Leo that saw where Amerigo!
I can’t see a mountain
and not climb it
So I’m putting my feet to the pavement
Blood sweat and tears?
I GAVE IT!
Didn’t think I could make it
BUT I MADE IT!
It hurt.
For me wisdom came in devastating spurts
The dream I chase
is so close I can taste it
I’ve been given a gift
I’M NOT GONNA WASTE IT!

 

I have a tattoo on my arm…8-9-11….a date…I got it on that very day…it was three days before my birthday.  I called it “The-day-it-was-too-late-tattoo.”  And it had everything to do with the biggest, slyest devil on my shoulder, addiction.  When I was at work and people would see the clock on my right arm (different tattoo) I would say, “It’s 6:38 on the clock….I did that on purpose.”

Jill Burr would always ask….”What’s it mean?!  What is 638?”   Jill was a DPS security officer at Harborview Medical Center and we have wrestled many a combative patient together…Note to self, check in on Jill and see how she is doing these days :).

Random facts bout the number 13:  What does it mean to me?  I was born on August 13.  My 21st birthday was on FRIDAY THE 13th…(da da daaaaa….FORESHADOWING!)  A week before I actually left adolescence behind for the treacherous teen years, I almost died, AGAIN (there have been a handful of close calls and adrenaline rushes) …it was in a hay bailing accident that almost nabbed me… 🙂 …, exciting little story I’m writing it down on a scratch paper next to my desk where I can keep a list titled “writing assignments.”  🙂

Right after I got my 8-9-11 ‘The Day It Was Too Late” tattoo…’  I was at a point in my life where I WAS “GOING THROUGH IT”, as someone I once knew would have worded it.   In fact…I had just started going to therapy and this coworker had approached me…his name was Robert Bandera…he said “God told me to give this to you….”  (I believe him).  He handed me a book on tape…it was a self-help book all about saying out loud what you haven’t said out loud before…the things trapped inside that can’t be verbalized.  It was right at the beginning of my whirlwind, when I told Jessica, “There are some things I cannot say out loud, I have tried and they get stuck, but I can write anything….may I WRITE YOU?”  , in fact it was listening to what Robert had given me that gave me the courage to email Jessica.  (Thanks Rob.)  I was 33 years old, I had just had an injury that had ended my fight career) my husband had an affair and had left me rather abruptly to paint a new picture in a new town with a new family and I was working nights on an ambulance…losing my shit.  My reasons to be were like sand through my fingertips…I could not get a grip…and the slope or rope or whatever I’ve been sliding down was steep and slippery and this has been an uphill climb.

At this same time my then partner on the ambulance, my amazing friend, Heather…. Heather handed me a book called Thirteen Reasons Why and told me that I should read it because it reminded her a bit of me…it was about this girl with some snowballing conundrums….at the time I didn’t know how frighteningly close to home it would all be.  I was just holding on.

Anyways…I have a lot to say and it’s going to start trickling out of me and I imagine it is important so I would like it if you read.  I wish I could spend all my life writing and making videos and talking and interviewing peeps while out and about (currently hand out blankets and toiletries and other such things to the homeless while I’m delivering my papers…a thank you to Kingston Mercantile, a Borrowed Kitchen Bakery, and a merchant marine named Mark Jensen for your beautiful inspiration, I am paying it forward.)  It would be spectacular instead of sleeping during the day and delivering newspapers in the Everett and Lynnwood and Edmonds area every night/morning…if I could just work with and help others collaborate and make art and get things to people in need….

(note to self)Emma, welcome to your new testament… your SECOND Living Journal.  You have made it…now breathe….  It is just beginning…and I have no idea what tomorrow is going to be like.

(note to reader)  No editor…writing on the fly, I can’t afford the middle WOman because I am HER…I do believe.  (AKA, what I’m trying to say is that ‘it’ will come out in one way or another…I am…my own middle man.  I have no editor.  I don’t proofread.  I have poor grammar.  So be patient with me, and feedback is welcomed and appreciated, but if it’s something petty please just let it slide for now?  🙂

Thank you for sharing this day with me.  This wonderful Cinco De Mayo on this beautiful planet earth….she needs to be cared for….we’ve been mean to her…I imagine she will let us know soon…Somewhere in the bible it talks about being luke-warm….causing a spitting….and I imagine that is what this world’s atmosphere is.  It feels luke-warm and icky.  It is murky gray area.  Smoggy foggy gray, I say!  I don’t like it.  The world is weird.  I don’t know home…and a spitting out of God’s mouth doesn’t sound pleasant…IN FACT IT SOUNDS DOWNRIGHT CATACLYSMIC.  It sounds a lot like God vomit…so if we as a collective could perhaps work to preserve HUMANITY?  I would like that….I bet your kids would as well.  hahaha.

Snowball

Snowball

Once I was nothing more than a drop of rain
up high in the sky
yet to feel the pain of change
just a drop dripping and
falling down
towards that impressive ground.
down below
where I watched all the other raindrops go.
Perhaps I don’t know as much as I think I do, though
because when a cold front moved in then
POOF I WENT!
I’m snow and I now float like a parachute
I did spins in the air as I came down.
and whimsical loopty loops.
I took my time.
I’m acutely aware there is no rewind.
while I was drifting
the wind kept on lifting me!
I decided to dream of the life
I wanted to live.
So many things
I wanted to do and be
and so many things my eyes have wanted to see.
and as I was coming down
to that ever intimidating ground
I could SEE
what it was and how it was gonna be!
But I didn’t land as I planned.
sometimes fate plays a hand,
Fast  was my crash
so quiet, not loud
landing in snow
was like landing in clouds
But now I fear trouble creeps
cause nothing is going to be able to keep me
from rolling down this hill….
on a precipice so high
over looking shining lights
and in the distance is the sea
at this very instance this incline is so steep!
I’M A SNOWBALL!
Redefining the word free fall.
Down down down
that was my head
and that was my heals
over and over down that hill I cartwheeled.
the more I tumbled
the less I could feel.
All that I was aware of was my size
as at this point I’m afraid
I may hurt or compromise
something or someone else
I don’t wish to hurt anyone’s pride.
As this has been happening
i snagged my toe on a ball of string
dear me!  oh my!
I find inside my snowball string
YOUR LIE.
so in your lie I’m now lying
doesn’t seem fair
this doesn’t seem like living it’s dying.
as my twirling world is spiraling
now as i’m somersaulting
down this thing
I’m just getting more tied and knotted up in this ball of string!
I was spending all my time hoping to break my fall
it turns out I’ve got so much string and snowball
as I get closer to the city
beneath me
i can more clearly see
that when this snowball finally
comes to a stop and gets some rest
It’s going to be one big
huge gigantic slushy
snowball mess
and it may leave many feeling regret or duress
Because you can’t have a snowball
string of lies without causing pain
upon arrival.
So I suppose we should all just compromise.
and call it survival.

Me, Myself and i*n-to-ur-net…

Oh dear
sweet September
let’s all protect
OUR TINDER.
No self respect
tomorrow
when I remember!
Maybe he won’t Instagram
that gram
we had
so sad
when  to distract
you act out
and reach out for those quick fixes
like a baby
a tit for a tat
a rat-attacked a cat and dog
got bit so it bit back.
ARE YOU SURPRISED?

 

We live in a day and age where we are able to share news, opinions, information and mis-information and world events all at lightning fast speeds.  In this era of screens and digitally simulated worlds, of email and video games, of Youtubes and Facebooks,and twittering Twitter accounts and tumbling Tumblr’s and word pressing WORD PRESSERS…and….

…we are are inundated with … stuff.

Lots and lots of ….

Stuff.

Stuff INCLUDING and NOT LIMITED TO…predatory ads and viruses, images and propaganda, FEAR, news pdf’s, mp3’s, JPG, GIF, OH EM GEE!!! There’s an E-MO-JI for JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING!  Even our food has been touched by man and SANTOED.  We are KILLING the very home we were given.  That sounds like a bad idea.  It sounds to me, like it’s time we start to turn things around.  Life has been a royal cruel crazy painful carving and molding process…BUT humanity is a BEAUTIFUL THING and I BELIEVE IN US.  Not UN.  You and I.  (You IN.  You EN?  Ewe N.  United Nations.  Will eat you for dinner.  I don’t know what’s happening up there at the tippity top but it scares me a lot.)   Who are you and I?  I know who I am…if you don’t know who you are perhaps you need to really start digging, because NOW IS THE TIME TO LIVE IN TODAY.  Tomorrow is an assault on our senses.

-When I say, “Wow, we all need to be really careful what we ALLOW IN.” … I’m speaking to myself as much as to anyone.  Maybe I am only speaking to myself?  I don’t mean to point the finger.  I HAVE COME TO LEARN THAT I NEED TO BE CAREFUL WITH THIS FINGER AND WHERE I POINT IT,  I have NO RIGHT TO JUDGE ANYONE EVER EVER EVER.  I want to sometimes but the truth of it is quite simple:  I don’t get to cause I have no business doing so.  I get it.  The human experience is so filled with discomfort!  So… I will be careful where I point my pen,  JUST LIKE THE MILITARY NEEDS TO BE CAREFUL WHERE THEY POINT THEIR GUNS AND MEN NEED TO BE CAREFUL WHERE THEY POINT THEIR DICKS AND WOMEN SHOULD BE SELECTIVE WITH WHO THEY LET SEE THEIR TITS.  LET’S ALL ‘NOT BE PRICKS.’  (HAHA-I like to rhyme).

A lot of the time, when I say something? I notice that I PROJECT….I do point that finger that points back at me…you see..If I were to give you a visual, just imagine yourself standing in front of the mirror…you are pointing straight ahead but all you see is someone pointing right back at YOU!

Indeed, to L.I.V.E. and look back on it is LITERALLY TO SEE and bare witness to the ‘word’ ‘evil’….words and language are so strange.  We are all capable of things we think we aren’t… I pray you never have to face a situation that would bring out such moral ultimatums for you, and if you messed up, YOU ARE NOT BAD YOU ARE HUMAN…perhaps one in the same but one has a shining redeeming quality and soul and one does not.  It is that we make mistakes.  NOT THAT WE ARE THE MISTAKE.

…I hope the second half of my life is CONUNDRUM-FREE!  Goodness this whirlwind was a blender.  I THOUGHT THE WORLD WAS SPINNING AND I WAS STANDING STILL, BUT TRUST YOU-ME!  IT MAKES MUCH MORE SENSE THAT THE WORLD HAS NOT BEEN SPINNING AND THE DIZZY IS JUST ME TRYING TO SHAKE FREE OF THE MIND BENDING CATASTROPHE’S THAT HAVE HAILED DOWN ON OUR LIVES LIKE A MASSIVE SHIT-STORM.  Because thus far, to have l.i.v.e.d. is to see in the devil in the mirror.  Retrospect can be sobering.

…I love words…they are…what was there in the beginning (According to the Bible)…before anything else…to my understanding.  The first lie I was taught was: “Sticks and stone’s will break my bones but words will never hurt me.” 

IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD.  AND THE WORD WAS WITH GOD.  AND THE WORD WAS GOD.  That’s what my Bible said.  Maybe that’s why I was taught that nursery rhyme?  See – that makes sense to me.

Words?  “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.”  Like a nursery rhyme, meant to be chanted and remembered and tattooed and imprinted…and it’s a lie…Sticks and stones may break my bones, but bones can mend and heal.  Words are like a knife that can slices and dice so precise that nobody can even see the incision and the bleed out is slow and painful…

I read a facebook post just the other day from my friend Jen (Who did this with me way back in the day because she’s awesome.  Her post explained how she wakes up the same way every day, rather contented and happy, and then she goes to her computer and checks her FB page and her entire day becomes rather overcast…all those heart strings are getting tugged on and manipulated and pulled. In many ways we are all being traumatized daily by the images being fed us through advertisements and DESENSITIZED to it… I want to talk more on this word, desensitized.

To not view some things is not choosing ignorance, sometimes it is necessary to look away.  Lord knows I have wanted to so many times over in my life I cannot recount.  I have a montage of violence that can play in my head at times, PTSD has been mean to me.  -My dreams have always been vivid.  I have FELT PAIN in my nightmares.  I have been tortured and scared and afraid.  Nightmares SUCK.  I HAVE SOME IMAGES AND SCENES IN MY HEAD I CANNOT UNSEE.  And it reminds me of my nightmares.  I used to dream that I was stuck in a corner or sometimes in a closet, always having to find a nook or cranny to hide, maybe under a bed… and outside my safe cubby hole, or closet depending on which nightmare I was trapped in… I would curl into the fetal position and try to cover my eyes and ears but I couldn’t.  I could still hear.  And I could see through my hands and I could see through the wood of the door and I could not close my eyes….I was forced to watch ‘it’ happen…whatever bloody violent scene was tormenting my poor lil noggin…

Some things, some images, some atrocities?  To know of them is …. there are some things it is acceptable to protect yourself or your children from…IT isn’t weakness or laziness.  And in other things it turns out my imagination is so much worse than what I feared.  That being said, knowledge is power, and ignorance is not bliss when it comes with consequence.

I used to get irritated with people and say they were being ‘ignorant’ or ‘dumb’ or ‘stupid’ for refusing to take their lid off their box, but I have also been a pretentious jerk in my time too, sorry guys  (I was raised by pretentious jerks-that-I-love!) …also I was made fun of for taking the lid off my box which makes me defensive and feisty  🙂  …Please forgive me!!  DOUCHE BAG CARD PULLED … MAYBE THE WORLD NEEDS TO PULL OUT ITS DOUCHE BAG CARD AND ALL OUR DOUCHE BAG CARDS WILL CANCEL EACH OTHER OUT? 

This life can be overwhelming…and has been, in my case, for these last many years, …it is finally starting to smooth itself out…it’s been a lot a lot a lot of a lot.  Yup.

I’m overwhelmed.

What is happening right now on this LOVELY FLAT EARTH, this opened book, this beautiful page…I see a picture in my mind I wish I could illustrate.  I hate that I write.  I wish that I could draw.  But letters can be like clay and pens like paintbrushes ….I’m not sure what’s next but I’m glad I’m here to narrate.

*Random interesting fact:  The computing was created by a man named Charles Babbage (26 December 1791 – 18 October 1871).  –  ‘Babbage’ is oddly reminiscent of the word ‘babble’ to me… 😉  Interesting, this story our names tell…

Dear Emma – (Nov. 6, 1996)

***Wowowowow…I’m looking at a tub of journals and it’s filled with just a bunch of scrapbooks and diaries that I haven’t looked at but for specific things …. EVER.   Since I’m at a crossroads as far as the concept of being in a marriage goes, and in the process of a divorce… it is time for a new beginning:  Perhaps I should look back to re-evaluate the experience and not repeat my mistakes?  I want to thank my creative writing and Film Study teacher, Mr. Davis, for having made learning FUN!***  1996 North Kitsap High School (Poulsbo, Washington State) creative writing class assignment, write a letter to yourself in five years.

Nov. 6, 1996

Dear Emma –

OK, here’s the scoop.  Last night Clinton was elected president for the second time, this was your first presidential election to vote in, and you DIDN’T vote for him but that’s OK.   Last night you also lost your first league title in soccer for the first time in your high school career.  It was very frustrating and you aren’t in the best of moods right now!

You are currently seeing Greg Fulton, he is the man you have been praying for and hopefully when you read this you two are still together, with any luck, married, and very happy!  You’re a senior, presently, but five years from now you will be 23.  It’s strange to think where I will be then, or what roads I will have traveled down (hopefully some in the direction of DISNEY WORLD!!)  I wonder if I’ll still be in contact with my friends … tell me Emma…how has that Megan Fogle been doing?  Are you keeping her in line?  And have Melissa and Ruben been married?  Emma…Do YOU have any kids?  You better still be involved in some sort of basketball program, because you love basketball!

How are Grandma and Grandpa?  Kyle and Warren, Erik and BJ, Mom and Dad?  Is everybody still living in Eglon,  How is Kevin and Cathy?  (Hopefully they aren’t together!)  And PLEASE tell me that they haven’t gotten married. 

Emma, have you started your book yet?  If you haven’t, you better get started.  What do you do?  are you a paramedic or nurse?  Did you go to college like I told you to!?!!!!

It’s so strange, I’m on the brink to the next stage of my life, and I’m scared about it.  You know, where am I oing to be in 5 years, but of course, you’ll be able to answer all of my questions.  My advice to you (me) is that you stay close with God, be nice to everyone, and help old ladies cross the road.  OK.  And write that book, you need to do that.  Understand?  Good?

Good Bye, Emma…… signed Emma Nielsen, Attorney at Law

(I worked at a law office filing paperwork back when I wrote this.  I started in the office at sixteen and went on to be secretary for awhile at 19 and 20, hence the ‘Attorney at Law’.  I would probably make a horrible lawyer!!  But I was sixteen I was at the lawyers office and I FOUND MY OWN PARENTS LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT.  In their original (they changed when I was like 22) they willed my brother and I to Chuck and his wife should anything happen to them….Oh silly life.  There was a picture of someone sitting on Chuck’s lap that back in the late eighties and early nineties I remember was pinned up on the board at the community club for what felt like forever….he was dressed up as Santa Clause at the Eglon Christmas program.  The men of the town took turns every year who was Santa and that was Chuck’s year.  It may even been a picture of me on his lap, to be honest with you…?  I remember that picture giving me a stomachache later when I recognized who it was, like….everyone was watching!  But nothing was happening… and in the picture…I hadn’t known it was Chuck, at the time, he looked like Santa and he had gifts and I was singing Christmas carols and hanging out with my friends and having fun and that’s all I knew.  But then there was that one year…Santa smelled like Old Spice.)

THIS Life Is WEIRD

 

Another full circle flat earth kind of day :).  (I have an obnoxious dot-connecting brain…always drawing parallels and making associations).  I just started playing this video game today, entitled “Life is Strange“…and it started with a girl in a crazy whirlwind of a storm at a lighthouse (featured photo is a Google Image Search “Life is Strange Video Game” find)…the picture reminds me of my tattoo….and I heard more discussion of this flat earth business today, so as I’m playing this game I’m thinking how true….Life IS strange.  It IS weird.  It IS interesting….and interesting is exciting 🙂  In fact…life is so exciting that I stopped playing Life Is Strange and went outside and enjoyed the spring sun.  🙂

I have heard it through the grapevine that some very peculiar things will be taking place in our skies in the upcoming years… Between drones and light pollution and chem trails leaving man-made clouds like little pencil lines through my blue skies…I bet this is truth.  I bet this is no lie.  Don’t be fooled … I have run enough private drills with private departments to know things can be done privately.  And I’ve known enough people I trust in enough different agencies that have done the same.  Both in the skies and in the depths of the oceans….and I’ve seen enough with my own eyes.  False flags happen, and they are cruel and mean.

I wonder the motivation?

Fear?

Why manipulate the masses?  Government has been sinister…(I’m going to stop calling places by their name…as in, America, and  Russia and China.   I’m going to clump them all into the same boat:  Government-elite…. boys and girls in a sandbox playing God.  They’ve separated us into our different boxes for a long time, we may as well start calling it what it is and NOT by it’s location…)  Secretive.  Stealthy.  I wonder how old Shakespeare was when he realized the world was a stage?  NOT A MARBLE, lol….. (J/K….idk what Shakespeare knew or didn’t know, or believed or didn’t believe.  I don’t even know what I know or believe…like I am discovering, life is full of intrigue and I have been blessed with an active imagination eager to discuss the possibilities.)

 

IMG_0031.JPG

I don’t know.  Life is weird.

Dance

I’m so grateful for people that dance :).

I dance.  But in the same way I sing….perhaps I shouldn’t but IT WILL NEVER STOP ME.

I was thinking this would be a fun routine to learn?  I love the song…I didn’t listen to radio again until recently so some songs haven’t been played into the ground for me yet…

If I do…WHEN I DO.  I’ll post a video…ego aside, lol.  Because truth be told….I fully plan on taking to the streets of Seattle this summer with a Seahawks jersey and a boombox and random dance bombing people…I always thought it would be fun to street perform, but really, I just want to make my Seattle neighbors smile….the world environment needs some fun and lighthearted….

The Nielsen Super Hero’s

My mother is so amazing.

When we were little my mom made me, my cousins Erik and Bjorn, and my brother Kevin capes out of bathroom towels…she sewed our initials in them, and tied it at the neck with a simple button…

Those capes were all we needed for hours and hours of fun off gallivanting and playing in the woods between our homes.

I remember believing that with that cape I could fly!  And I BELIEVED!  I believed that the world was magical, and that with God all things were possible.  I was an optimistic, stubborn little girl, and that’s why my dad nicknamed me “Punk!”  I remember concentrating with all my might and then sprinting across the yard, my cape waving behind me, before taking a giant leap of faith that ended in a painful belly flop that knocked the wind out of me.

I cried before I got up and tried again.  😉

Lost Fish

I was never good at speaking
it was always a frustrating
thing to me.
Uncle Louie described me
as standoffish,
back when I was a kid…
but I was just a lost fish,
scared of other in the sea.

I observed the others.
I looked up to my brother
and I thank God for my
father and mother
I felt like we had to look out
for one another…
Very peculiar we all were
for sure.

But maybe that’s why I love
a good mystery
cause isn’t that what we all are?
Once just an egg
in our mother’s mother’s belly,
just a salmon
swimming upstream
trying to find our way
back to U and I and me.
and I have faith…
I believe someday
it will be.

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