The Meaning of Sarah

The meaning of Sarah does not lie in the literal meaning of the name.

Instead, it resides in sun soaked meadows in September, the taste of wild strawberries and the color red. It lingers in her fractured poetry, her overly opinionated voice, her lack of boundaries. It ripens in the pools of her eyes, in her belief in the mythological.

The meaning of Sarah does not exist within the perimeters created by others.

It flies beyond the borders, open arms to embrace the earth and a heart scarred, but willing to love.

Its like standing outside of my body and watching myself. Like I don't actually belong inside of me, but I'm still a part of ME.

I have no name.

"Sarah" is too ethereal to belong to me. "Sarah" is too beautiful to belong to me. "Sarah" is autumn and blood red leaves and fields of strawberries growing wild in the sun. "Sarah" is memories that have lost their meanings. "Sarah" is hollow, but "Sarah" is full.

The meaning of Sarah is not in the name.

What is in a name? Does it belong to any part of one's body? Or does it lie at the soul?

Sarah does not have a name. Sarah does not exist. Sarah is fractured poetry and the bumper stickers of would-be presidents. She's an equal rights rally. She's equal parts Marilyn Monroe and Edgar Allan Poe. She's a love of the wild and spirit. She is obsession.

The meaning of Sarah lies in her inability to let her conscience be silenced.

The meaning of Sarah is directly proportionate to the meaning of Donnie. And the meaning of atoms and stars in rotation. And the meaning of love. And the meaning of choosing who and what you will be.

The meaning of Sarah gets lost in the shuffle, because even Sarah doesn't know the meaning. There is no dictionary to explain one's self to one's self.

The meaning of Sarah is something brilliant. Something waiting to be born, that's afraid to be born.

The meaning of Sarah has been lost in translation and translation after translation.

The meaning of Sarah is like a holy book. Abused by those who want to make it their own. Pages torn out, meanings lost. But still there.

The meaning of Sarah is not the body that houses her. It is not the body that houses me that makes me. It is the person inside of me, inside of her, that doesn't know who she is, but is willing to try.

The meaning of Sarah is flying, despite the obstacles.

The meaning of Sarah is fighting, despite all the tearing down.

The meaning of Sarah is finding yourself inside the pages of a beloved book, the words jumping off the page embracing you like long lost lovers.

The meaning of Sarah cannot be found in a dictionary, because she is more than words on a page. She is more than the loves and the hates and the cruelties and the bad memories and the bad dreams and the dreams that never came true. She is more than strawberries growing in a field.

The meaning of Sarah does not lie in the literal meaning of the name, but in her willingness to grow in spite of the tearing down of her hope.

A New York State of Mind

In New York City the streets are paved with stars because you can't see the sky.

In New York City the lights are so bright you almost need sunglasses.

In New York City there is trash and people smoking weed in dank construction "hallways." There are sewage smells and people begging for change. There are veterans begging for enough to survive and people wearing the latest fashions.

In New York City there are small sections of beauty, delicious food and bits of whimsy. There are tall buildings full of lights that twinkle brighter than the moon and Times Square is the sun at night.

In New York City there are museums full of fragments of our history, fragments of other lives. There is a bitterness of dreams deferred and a sweetness of something being right. There is kindness if you look for it, if you are willing to share it.

In New York City a cop pulls over a taxi driver for running a red light. Someone walks in on another person in the bathroom even though they are screaming "occupied!" There are huge slices of cheese pizza and "Ponzu sliders." There are frightening taxi rides and smiling faces. Bacon Lollipops are on sale next to the black teas in Chinatown bazaars.

New York, New York. Its a hell of a town. A big juicy apple waiting for you to take a bite, just mind the worms. It'll be Marilyn Monroe if you let it, or it'll be a sad commentary on the rush and deconstruction of our everyday lives. Which do you choose?

Either way you go it is simply New York.

All of Her: Chapter Three

It has been two weeks since David fully moved out. I can't stand being alone after having lived with at least one person all of my life. The quiet scares me sometimes. So I bought a Siamese cat and named him Snuggles.

I notified the landlord of David's moving out. He's still bound to the lease until I find a roommate, though. This makes me secretly happy. Even though he is gone, he is still stuck with me through the lease.

Today I am packing up my dirty laundry and loading up my 1989 Geo Spectrum. I am going to my mother's to do laundry because I can't stand the silence at the apartment.

I haven't called it home since he left. I suppose the saying is true, "Home is where the heart is." I no longer have a heart, therefore I am homeless.

Snuggles meows at me and his silky snake of a tail swishes back and forth. His bright blue-green eyes look curious and he tilts his head to one side as if to ask a question.

I sink down to pet him and suddenly find myself crying with him snuggled against me. At least someone still loves me.

After my little cry I right myself and head out.

The drive to my mother's is not very long, but the route is curvy. Not the best drive to take when you are distracted.

I realize that it is getting warmer now. We will be fully into summer in about a week. I've been so blinded by my own despair I didn't even notice the advent of green. I actually smile. It is a bitter-sweet smile of course, but it is progress as Noah would say.

My mom's house is a beautiful two story Victorian in the middle of a luxurious suburb downtown. It is cream with pink trim, a perfectly manicured lawn and a long driveway with twin weeping willows on either side.

After my father passed away, Mom moved here with myself, my two younger sisters and my older sister, Anna. My older brother, Kevin, moved into the old house. She has since re-married and Bradley (Brad as we call him) keeps everything very neat.

When I pull up I am greeted by sweet chaos.

Anna and her husband, Greg are over with their two children. Their children, Elizabeth and Kristopher, are chasing Mom's dog, Biscuit, around the side yard. Anna and Greg are unpacking a small of box, though I am not sure of the contents. Probably pictures for Mom to hang.

Emma, my fifteen year old sister, is whining to Mom about her cell phone while Sophie, who is seventeen, is begging to go to a homecoming dance. Brad is on a ladder working on the gutters and is the only one to acknowledge my arrival with a smile and a wave.

Lastly my older brother, Kevin, pulls up in his mustang convertible.

"Looks like the gang is all here." I say, waving at Kev.

"Timing is everything." He says. He smiles at the very full yard and shuts his door.

"Have I forgotten someone's birthday? Or a major holiday?" I query. Normally everyone wouldn't just be randomly gathered at Mom's house. I begin to tick off a mental calendar. No, no holidays or birthdays. None that I can think of anyway.

"I don't think you have." says Kevin. He is going over a mental check list too.

We hug and then link arms as we walk toward Anna's minivan. Anna and Greg have stopped for a moment to kiss each other. I wince at their happiness. Just then Kris and Beth come running, shouting,

"Auntie Abra, Uncle Kev!" Chubby cherub arms twine themselves around our waists in bear hugs. I can't help but smile and laugh. I pick up Kris, who is four, and kiss his cheek. He smiles then wiggles out of my grasp.

"'Ello, Greg." says Kev. The two shake hands and Kev gives Anna's cheek a peck.

My mother finally manages to tear herself away from Sophie and Emma to come and hug us. Brad comes up and shakes Kev's hand.

"'Ello, Brad." says Kev. "Taking good care of my mother?"

"Always, Kevin, always." replies Brad. This is how they have greeted each other since Mom and Brad got married eight years ago. Brad smiles and puts a loving hand on Mom's shoulder.

"Let's all go into the house and have some tea and cookies." says Mom, beaming. She always looks so happy when we are all there.

In a cluster we go into the house and congregate, like a murder of crows, in the living room. Sophie comes and sits on the arm of chair and rests her cheek on my shoulder.

"Hello, Sophie." I say, wrapping an arm around my sister's shoulder. "How is school going?"

"Its okay. Mom doesn't want me going to the homecoming though." she sighs. I know my sister. She wants me to talk to Mom for her.

"Why not?" I ask.

"I don't have a chaperon. She has an art class to teach that night and Brad will be out of town on business." Sophie looks at me imploringly. I can't resist those pretty green puppy dog eyes.

"I'll see what I can do." I say. Sophie squeals and kisses my cheek before going to hug Kevin.

I realize that this is a perfect opportunity for me. I can start my plans at the homecoming dance. Surely Sophie has a few cute teachers. Right?

As I'm planning, Anna comes up and sits next to me.

"You okay Abe?" she asks, using a nickname she hasn't used since we were little girls. She is worrying about me, I can see it in her eyes. Though she tries to mask it.

"I'm fine." I say, quickly. I smile my best smile to re-assure her, but she doesn't seem convinced. She knows me better than that.

"Mom says you bought a new cat. Are you happy? I know you'd been wanting to get another since Cleocatra passed on."

I love my sister so much right now. She knows I'm lying, but she goes with it anyway. Could I ask for a better one?

Before I can answer, Emma comes up and sits in my lap.

"A-baa," she says, using the baby name she called me when she was little. She lays her head on my shoulder wraps her arms around my neck. "can I spend the night with you this weekend? I miss you."

I wrap my arms around her and sigh into her hair.

"Have you already asked Mom about it?" I ask.

"No. But I know she'll say yes. Please? I'll bring my Florence and the Machine CD and we can watch Marilyn Monroe movies. We can make a sleepover of it! Please, A-baa?"

I can't resist when she calls me that. Being the youngest of the family, Emma gets away with a little more than the rest of us. Partially because we older siblings are the ones letting her get away with it.

"Okay, Em. If Mom gives the okay you can come over."

With a joyous little giggle she hops out of my lap and runs off to ask Mom's permission. A wistful smile creeps onto my face. At her age I was spending all of my time with David. I was so infatuated with him. What a waste of my time and youth.

Not being blind, Anna gives me a look of understanding. She hugs me before getting pulled away by her children.

I sit still, fighting off the overwhelming sadness that creeps up. I am so focused, I don't realize Mom has come up to sit beside me. I don't notice until she speaks.

"When your father died, we had been married for nineteen years. But we had been together for twenty-two. He was my best friend, my lover and confidante. We had five beautiful children and I believed we'd have five more. As well as many more years together.

"I was devastated. If not for you children and your grandmother, God rest her, I would never have survived. I didn't believe I was strong at all. I was a thirty-eight year old woman with five children, one of which was four, all on her own. But I lived. And I eventually fell in love with another man. Did he replace your father? No.

"But he did help support me while the gash in my heart healed into a still pink scar. Brad and I have been married for only eight years. Not even half of what I was married to your father. But he has been just as much my friend, lover and confidante. When it starts to feel overwhelming, because it will, remember it isn't the end. You are still young. You are stronger than you think. And, no matter what, I love you."

She smiles at me and pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. I try to smile back. It is wobbly, but I manage and she hugs me. I snuggle into her embrace and take a deep breathe to stifle a sob. I realize how comforting the smell of her is. She smells like fresh bread and honeysuckle. She smells like home to me. I am home in my mother's arms. Even though my heart is still missing, a little piece floats back into place.

Marilyn Monroe

A mad poet, dancing through space. You scribbled venom, running from fate.
A wandering prophet, searching the deserts for a glimpse of God, only to find
sand.

A Goddess, you longed for mortality. Wishing for someone to love who you
were, not who you had been. All the while holding a world that loved only
your beauty, never looking within.

A gypsy forsaken by the music, surrounded by glittering diamonds, but they
weren’t your friends. Pursued by men who never cared or ever would, all
they ever wanted was between your legs.

A million sparkling pieces, exploding and shattering, will you ever stop
spinning out of control? Will you ever find what you crave? More fragile than
you appeared, you were stronger than they knew.

Norma Jean was lost, found in the coffin of Miss Marilyn Monroe. Was the
price of that last kiss worth your soul? Did they truly love Marilyn Monroe?
Were you still Norma Jean at the end of it all?

Now you are an icon, worshipped and idolized, but did they ever look into those
beautifully broken eyes? Beloved by a generation, one that never understood
the scars that lay just beneath the skin.

I am who I am

I am quiet. I am loud. I am scared and I am courageous. I
am of the best and worst parts of Marilyn Monroe and
Edgar Allan Poe. I am dying from the human condition. But
I'm not dead yet! I have a soul and a mind. I am filled
with pains and joys. Loves and hates. I am destined to be
tragic. But that doesn't mean I can't be amazing while I'm
here. I have a heart and an imagination. I am of the Earth
and people of the Earth. I am made of music and dancing.
Light and darkness. I am a contradiction. But that doesn't
mean that I can't be one or the other. I have loved and
been loved.

I have lived a thousand years in 19. I have seen all there
might be to see that is evil in this world. But I'm
hanging on for the beauty. I love guns. I hate violence. I
love poetry and I hate prejudice. I am of poetry and clear
dark oceans that drag you down to the depths of satin
waves. I have seen the stars through a child's eyes. I
have lived in my skin. And I have known what it was like to
be loved. I dream. And I live for the future as I gaze back to my past.

I have been hurt, abused, abandoned and used. But I am not
broken. I may be bruised from life's many hardships, but
my soul remains unbroken by it. I am invisible and
apparent. I can sing and scream and dance. I have thoughts
and ideas. I am not just a body, but a soul unchained within a
mortal frame. I will never be perfection. I never
claim to be brillant or beautiful. But each of us is
beautiful in our own way. I am wrong sometimes. And right
other times. I have hopes and wants and desires.

I am of the wind, restless and powerful. Just look into my
eyes. I am made of the best parts of light and darkness.
Within them I am completely safe. I am alive and live
is what I intend to do with my life. I am of ice and fire.
A dangerous and chaotic marriage of the two. I can be
hateful, selfish and impatient. I can also be loving, tender
and sweet. I bear the scars of life proudly.
They are a part of me and always will be. I'm strange and
wild. Calm and sometimes wise. I can show you worlds you
didn't know existed. All you have to do is open your eyes!

I am violent and gentle. A strange mixture of course.  I
am intelligent and dumb. I am of the ocean, lightning and
thunder. I am of the wind, the sun and moon, stars and
clouds. I am of the atmosphere that surrounds us. Embraced
by what can not be seen. Drowning, I have stood in the
light of a new born sun. Breathless, I have stood in the
courts of the moon and her lovers. I have seen the future
and I have known the past. I live for today. I am
outspoken and stubborn. Opinionated and sometimes
rebellious.

And I am patiently waiting for whomever can love me for
all these things and more.