Sonnet Searing
Until now I'd lost all hope in reason
Blankets of disaster tighten the rope
Swift is the pain, happiness is treason
The darkest valleys have the smoothest slope
Something steals time, I find myself shortchanged
Within the trade minutes steal miles unseen
I see that fate surely became deranged
Leaving me to know that I'm still unclean
Darkness becomes ideal from depths below
Twisting twirling compensating the lie
Hope in more than myself lets loose the crow
Winged beast hungry for souls will not comply
Although fallen heroes cancel decay
I find strength in being risen from pain
Vanity Fair
Until now, I'd lost all hope,
Cement was poured into my heart.
With some things I just cannot cope,
To be stone is better than to fall apart.
Because I have been searching,
I have been desperate.
My body's attempt at purging,
Was to find a new tenant.
Someone to love what's left of you,
Right out of what's left of me.
The love between foreign sheets was my cue,
That I couldn't resurrect a memory.
I knew I was deprived of someone secure,
Who wouldn't put my priorities on a shelf.
Someone with the patience to always reassure,
...That's why I chose to love myself.
I won’t
Until now I’d lost all hope
But now I won't
every morning when I wake up
I wonder
would you be proud of me?
it really doesn’t matter though, does it?
because despite how much I wonder
deep inside I know
you never will be
the first month of college
I thought I was rid of you
but every day reminded me that
I wasn’t
I cringe when people are loud,
because I just hear your voice
I shrink away when people get close,
because all I see is you stepping forward
and my instincts are telling me to hide
I don’t drink
not after I saw what it did to you
I don’t sleep alone
because every time I do
I keep watching the door
hoping you don’t come in
but the part the hurts me the most
is how much he loves me
and how much of you I see in him
but I won’t let you hurt me anymore
Home
Until now, I’d lost all hope.
The high, bright sun filtered through the leathery-green leaves of the towering canopy above me, bloodthirsty insects having their way with my exposed skin as I tried to mitigate the extent of my body’s overheating in the thick, heavy air. I crashed through the underbrush far too conspicuously, making my way to the rendezvous point as fast as I could--all the while dodging the large, scaly ghost that I knew was there, just beyond the edge of my vision.
I didn’t know what it is. I’m no biologist, let alone a paleontologist. I volunteered to come here because being one of the scientists on this first mission was a game-changer. I could write my ticket to any university, any private corporation, and all the funding I could ever ask for. I’d argued and championed my case, finally convincing the board of directors that an astrophysicist would be an essential addition to the team. Just think about what we could learn by studying the universe as it had been one hundred million years before the birth of Christ!
Oh, how I wished I had stayed with my dinky little department, booking observatory time and watching streams of data for anomalies. My tiny, stuffy office had been safe, if not well-lit. My coffee had been hot, if not potable. And I would not be stuck here, countless ages in the past, being hunted by a ravenous dinosaur.
We’d known it was coming. The perimeter grid had flagged the charging beast as it made its purposeful way directly toward us. Webber had called the big one a Spinosaurus, right before it crushed the defense grid like a pile of twigs. It didn’t eat her. . . It just sort of. . . tore her apart with an indifferent ease that chilled me to the bone. I couldn’t help myself: I threw up at the sight. The fact that Rodriguez had run is probably the only thing that saved my life. That poor, sweet man. I’d sort of liked him, before. . .
I don’t know how I ended up with the beacon--I must have blacked out. I just know that one moment I’m screaming like a madwoman as two lizards the size of German Shepherds dart out of the underbrush and leap on Mark, the security guy, and the next I’m running through the forest, the smooth metal cylinder tucked under my arm.
For hours I had despaired that I wasn’t going to make it, for several reasons. The first was that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if I stopped or slowed for any reason, I would be dino-food. The second was almost slightly more terrifying: the beacon’s transmitter had been triggered, and I didn’t know how long it had been on.
The company who’d sponsored this trip, DynaTek, had stressed one single fact in the briefing before we’d all come here: once the return beacon had been turned on, the team had exactly six hours to return to the rendezvous point, or they risked returning to the present inside of something, like, say, the ground. They only had the ability to keep the “door” open on their side for so long before they had to shut the device down, and due to the spin of the Earth’s axis around the sun, and the continental drift and changes to the landscape, there was no guarantee that the team wouldn’t end up phasing into a mountain, or even the vacuum of space.
And so, I didn’t know how long I had to get to the one place the DynaTek had promised us they could lock onto. I could be stuck here, one hundred million years in the past, as long as I dropped the beacon and got at least a hundred yards from it before it triggered, or I could risk popping back inside the Rocky Mountains.
IF ONLY I KNEW HOW MUCH TIME!
But then I saw it, and I knew I would be okay. I’d almost lost all hope, but I finally broke from the dense underbrush of the forest, shading my eyes from the bright sun as I stumbled my way up the rocky crag of an outcropping that had been spray-painted in vivid, gaudy neon-orange:
CLICK YOUR HEELS, DOROTHY!
Whoever had written that had no idea how poignant the message would be to someone like me, and how ironic it was that they would never see their loved ones again.There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home! I chanted to myself as I scrambled to the top and lifted the beacon to the sky, checking the single green LED to make sure that it was lit. As I did, caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye and heard a high-pitched, shrill cooing from behind me. Terrified, I punched the RECALL button as pain seared into my shoulder and the world tilted and blinding light surrounded me, before fading to darkness.
She
Until now I'd lost all hope.
Giving up on the idea of a deep-rooted connection.
To find a heart to be the object of my affection.
I accepted that I'd remain alone to cope.
So I constructed my wall to never fall.
I would ride out the storm in seclusion.
But this feat was by no means small.
There is no denying my soul called out.
To find someone to make me feel again.
I buried these demands behind my own self doubt.
To open up and be vulnerable again?
To allow my heart to free fall,
Into the hands of someone worthy to catch it?
To never know when?
No.
I'd lost all hope.
*****
So I sat and stared.
Stared into nothing.
Sitting in a house I didn't own.
Fading in and out of consciousness.
The alcohol numbing my pain.
I speak to my demons in their native tongue.
They convince me to cross the line.
Maybe I've done enough good in life,
To look into the eyes of our maker.
To kneel before His golden throne.
So I took my first step onto the ledge.
Staring down into the abyss,
I knew there was no one left to save me.
*****
There were no signs.
There was no cue.
There she stood.
She had slammed into my life.
Like a meteor,
Escorted by trails of smoke and flames.
Plummeting from the heavens,
She burnt through my soul,
In brilliant flames of white, blue, and gold.
She destroyed the walls I built up.
And I willingly relinquished any and all control.
And I fell hard.
In my world of dark she stood out.
Encased in the light of her beauty.
Radiant. Pure. Calming.
Resurrecting a familiarity within.
But we had no past.
Yet our hearts spoke to one another like old friends.
As if there was a bond they've always known.
*****
She had caught me.
And I landed in the arms of the one who awoke me.
The one who allowed my wounds to close and scar.
The love I have for her runs deep within my veins.
So yes,
Until now I'd lost all hope.
But because of her,
The little hope I have still remains.
My Name Is Victoria, Hear Me Roar.
i.
Every time I hear that word,
"Shalen"
I cringe.
I cringe because of all that's attached
To that little, six letter word bound tightly
In anger and pain and frustration.
All the little things, because of that
One
Little
Word
Anxiety.
Depression.
Suicide.
I don't want it.
I don't want it.
I don't want it.
It disgusts me when I hear it,
Chipping away at my resolve like a vulture at a carcass,
That hasn't eaten in days
-I am nothing but the pills I have swallowed and the shadows in my room.
It is me- and I am it.
We're siamese twins
Conjoined at the waist
I can never be rid of it.
ii.
remember all those times, mother
all those times you repeated yourself:
"i'll love you no matter what, and i'll always support you."
you're a liar.
remember that time,
when i told you the words
"i want to be a girl"
what happened to your support then?
you disgust me-
and the fact i feel any remorse at that at all
terrifies me
iii.
i started today
having my friends call me
victoria
i like that name much better
and until now
i'd lost all hope
at happiness
perhaps one day
i can shed that hideous word,
"shalen"
and be who i really am.
today is not that day,
but repeat after me:
"My current situation, is not my final destination."
i can achieve happiness.
i can live.
i can make it.
iv.
My name is Victoria,
Hear me roar.
Until now I had lost all hope. Until now I thought I would never find you. Until now there was no light at the end of the tunnel.
Now I see the train coming through the mountain. Now I see my way ahead. Now I have a ride to the future. Now I know I am not lost but rather found. Now I have you to guide me onward. Now my hope has become assurance.
Before now I was alone. Before now I was mistaken. Before now I was mislead. Before now I was failing. Before now I was falling.
From now forward I can spread my wings. From now forward I can soar toward Heaven. From now forward I will look outward to see all I possess. From now forward I can be in peace. From now forward I am alive.
Looking back I can see I have come full circle. Looking back I can see that what I have found was right there with me. Looking back I see I was blind. Looking back I know that the Light has now become me.
I am now the Light. I am now at Peace. I am now all I was meant to be. I am now going to spread my wings and fly across the Universe while singing a song for all to hear. That song is Love.
Lighter
Until now I'd lost all hope-orange melting down the sky as we stood in the water, burying our feet in pebbles. Willing ourselves to lock down minutes while we pulled back. Tried to erase the other from memory and sound.
The low shush of geese landing on the surface purred ripples over our calves and I could feel tiny hairs flinching in the currents. Breathing in the water as if it was suddenly possible to live in suspended belief.
That sunsets would always rain upon us, holy fires burning up every vial of self-pity until we were washed clean in the heat of nebulae.
For a second, I was full of grace. For a second, I ascended.
Awaken
Until now
I'd lost all hope
With mournful words
Sadness echoed
Light was drained
My blackened soul
Anchored deeply
Consciousness wept
Guilt overwhelming
Forgiveness waxed
Until now
I’d lost all faith
A two foot casket
Named Pandora
Cloaked in layers
Suffocated by soot
Her pink spirit stifled
Asleep in the darkness
Gasping for air
A white dove escaped
Until now
I’d lost all desire
A lonesome swallow
Perches alone
Lyrical memories
Carried by ghosts
Limbo is humbling
Freedom deceives
Away she flew
Until now
I was asleep.
Hope
Until now I'd lost all hope for survival. My choices were another year dumpster diving in Vancouver's inner city or trying the woods of the Sunshine Coast - I chose the woods. I didn't know the first thing about the wilderness when I spent my last twenty on the Horseshoe Bay ferry. Some things came easy: building a driftwood lean-to on the rocky beach, bathing in the ocean, catching the salmon that spawned that time of year. After the salmon stopped, however, food wasn't easy to find. The fish and small game evaded me, Red Tide infected the shellfish, and the only safe berries I knew were blackberries. My lighter ran out of fluid. I wore rags.
I managed to get by until autumn. That was when I started to worry. Winters in Western Canada were mild compared to the Prairies I grew up in, but you could still freeze. British Columbia has a deep cold - not Alberta's where you can warm up after five minutes indoors. This cold was damp and thorough. I was pretty sure that I'd caught something that day. I climbed into a tree and waited for the illness to kill me. That was when the hippie found my sorry ass.
"Namaste," she said, brushing aside straight grey locks that fell past her hips. "You look like you've been out here a while. Not with the peace campers?"
"What are peace campers?"
"They protest logging. Let's get you something to eat."
She led me to an old van. I crowded in with the two German Shepherds in the front seat and tried not to laugh as their sniffing tickled my neck and sides. The small towns I'd passed through on my way here wouldn't welcome me, I was sure. Nobody else had - I had spent five years being spat on, avoided, or told to get a job when every business I walked into kicked me right back out. I didn't deserve their sympathy. I'd done unspeakable things for heroin to ease the pain until I went to rehab. I couldn't bear being around other addicts - I had to run away from civilization.
We stopped at the top of a steep hill. A boxy building stood with water bowls out front - everyone had a dog here. The canines looked longingly at the door or leaned against smoking men. The two in the van barked their greetings to the others. The scent of coffee permeated the air and mothers stood behind a huge glass window, talking while their children played in the lobby. I looked at a familiar red shield above the door and then to the woman.
"They'll only try to pull me back in. It happens every time I go to a food bank or shelter. They'll wait 'til the staff aren't listening and offer me some dope. I can't start using again."
"No they won't, hon. You get kicked out for that kind of stuff. I volunteer here all the time. Just one meal - you can make it through that, right?"
Reluctantly, I followed her inside.
Lunch was simple. Rice and chili with store-brand cola to drink. They even offered a vegan option to those who preferred it. I didn't feel so sick after getting a small portion of the real meat down. Afterward, I was given a hamper, a voucher for clothes from the thrift store, and a cup of coffee. The man in the office entered my name into a database and told me where all of the local free meals were. The hippie waited outside.
"Here," she said to me, handing me a tattered book. It had the look of self-publishing, with an amateur photo on the front and no raving reviews or bar code on the back. It was about outdoor survival in the Pacific Northwest. "This helped my father when he came to dodge the draft. Come to the address on the inside of the cover when you're ready to live, instead of just surviving."
I read the small map scrawled in the cover. It was a marina, with the name of a boat and a list of outdated prices for fish scrawled on it.
"They'll hire someone like me?" I asked.
"I will," said the woman. "I'll take you there today if you want."
"Sure. What's your name, by the way?"
"Hope."