new arrival

having a life inside of you for nine months is a beautiful, unexplainable gift. you begin to live for something other than yourself. you find that something ancient awakens in your soul. love in it's most unadulterated form springs forth from your being with luminescent purity so surreal that you wonder if you are suspended in some sort of a dream. motherhood is blissful, despite the physical demands a new life brings; overlooking the hormonal tidal waves you and those around you must endure. the wonder of motherhood can in no way prepare you, however, for unforeseen complications that may arise with your precious new arrival. before now we were completely unaware of the harrowing hardships that many struggle to face when their child is born in a less than perfect way. having the person so neatly united with you swept away is unimaginable. even though you know that the life of your child depends on the intensive care they are receiving, the ache, the hollowness does not dull in the absence of their presence, even if for their own good. it leaves you wondering if your perfect dream was only the beginning of a bitter nightmare with no end. reality fades into obscurity. you hope for the best whilst swallowing your biggest fears. so it is to have a birth with complications. you console yourself with the fact that somebody else has it worse than you do, but you can never deny the physical evidence that this less than blissful event is taking it's toll on your life. you try to carry on. keep it together. put one foot in front of the other. to survive. survival is the best you can do. you anxiously wait for reports that assure you of nothing. you plead inside yourself for any glint of good news. two things you may not have even known you have emerge as heroic figures that guide your day. faith and hope stand guard at the post of your failing heart. without them you would expire. they may be all that is keeping you alive.

syniki

I have been craving this dish for a while, particularly the last few days. At eight months pregnant I can't very well fly off to Moscow for a meal, so I began searching the internet. I couldn't find the name of the dish, Syrniki, since on the menu in Moscow we had only seen the words Russian Cheesecakes. Finally, through a blog, cheatingcook.wordpress, I found the name and a recipe to try. This morning I will attempt to make them. The only problem being that I do not have the Russian curd cheese, or even cottage cheese. Perhaps cream cheese will be a suitable substitute. I'm off to whip up a batch!

I feel as though I'm outgrowing this blog as a place for poetry only.

Time for a change. I really wanted to be more creative this year, but morning sickness derailed my attempts at craftiness. A few days left until Christmas, and I am lamenting the fact that I do not have a handmade Christmas. News flash: I am NOT Martha Stewart. A girl can still dream. On a more positive note, I have been cooking more. The only problem is that I end up eating most of what I make, since it is not gourmet enough for my family. The baby has been moving around more and more, which is awesome. The other day we had a Josh Nunez song on in the car, and the baby was really active throughout the entire song. I guess the baby is a fan! I am 20 weeks now, and I feel fat!!! I guess that's just part of pregnancy.

time.

such a mockery of everything perceived and achieved.

nothing can withstand this force.

no one is exempt.

we rant and race against the effects,

but there is no stopping this.

we hope that it's passing will lesson our sorrows.

often times they only increase with each painful moment.

we can run to the sun,

and find that we have only pushed ourselves further 

into the inevitable blackhole.

time.

little red riding hood

my cloak is fastened,

my basket full;

off to grandmother's house i go.

never wondering what may lurk 

in corners and shadows along the way.

i sing and skip and make my way,

innocently observing the wonders of the mysterious wood.

i was warned of diversions,

but this is such a pretty path.

the flowers intoxicate,

the colors entice,

this is certain harmony.

a new friend emerges.

i am eager to play.

this journey is long, 

my basket so heavy,

there can't be anything wrong with innocent conversation.

i always divulge too much.

it's my pure heart that gets the best of me.

the stranger scurries, leaving me alone,

taunting and challenging me in ways i am unfamiliar.

i accept.

i am no coward.

i race,

i burn.

i will not be undone.

i am strong, 

a natural fighter.

i rejoice at my accomplishment

as i enter the comfortable cottage.

sweet satisfaction tickles me,

i am among those that love.

eerie emotions pierce me

as i navigate about the room.

something is out of context.

incorrect.

grandmother.

where are you?

why am i suddenly chilled?

a flash of light,

a fearful cry,

i am swallowed,

consumed.

not so noble,

after all,

this trusting heart that betrays the mind.

how long will i linger

in the pit of one so eager to devour?

when will my rescuer set me free?

catch

words. 

all i have.

all that you've given.

they taunt and tease my simple mind.

i never know what you really mean.

too many metaphors cloud my sight.

will curiosity devour my very soul?

you invade again with persuasive lips.

i am open.

completely free.

i catch fire as i listen.

say it again.

pry me apart.

lyrics and rhymes ignite inside me.

flames lick my eager thighs,

enrapture my chest,

my heart.

i am reduced to ashes within minutes.

all you ever do is talk.

starlet

you step out into the light, severing our heart strings. nothing remains for us to find. i see you mount with wings and float gingerly upon the current. i realise that i have been left behind. i am stationary, rooted deep within this rich earth. i cannot follow you wherever go. i meditate on you: your smile, your scent, the strength of your rugged hands. thoughts to torture, i mean console, in desperate times. i wish you well in your eager pursuit of life. i desire all the best for you, and resignedly accept the futility of my fate. the waters will rage, ravaging and engulfing me. i see the sight before i even smell the rain. beauty is devastation. what glamour will be eternally mine?