Friday, August 26, 2016

7 Poems for 7 People

it began four years ago when i was
moments away from performing a soNg belonging to a tv show
in a room full of hundreds and hundreds of stares,
and when there wAs no stand for the microphone,
you held it for me.
that exact moment spun us intTo a whirlwind of adventures:
slaying dragons and ruling kingdoms and
screaAming along to taylor swift songs in the car after an airport hug and a sleepless night.
we spent $10 on coffee and a terminal disease; we took a car-ride
and conquered 3 States;
we danced beside a willow tree, minds fuzzy, and planned a future in the soutHwest.
because, even then- so early in the best-friend-fAirytale-
we knew our paths would be forever intertwined.
so let it be known: no matter how many times we create songs
when dialing each other’s numbers on our phones to sob about evil boys and jealous girls
and family that breaks our hearts,
my love for you is endless.



---

you were a friend of a best friend with a smile that radiated.
it radiated kindness and love, friendliness and Beauty; the ability to be
vulnerable and strong.
and it made me wonder if those two things were secretly one and the same.
we mEt again, this time 365 days older, and the pure genuine sparkle that glowed off of you
was brighter somehow. and when that time passed once more,
i witnessed a new person altogether.
i watched you grow as though in shots of a fiLm strip:
one, you are quiet.
two, you are evolving.
three, you are a confident woman who deserves better than
what the worLd has presented to her.
And so we played a card game and we walked half a mile in ohio’s downpour
and we talked and laughed and cried and smiled
and you grew.
and you inspired me.
and so i grew, too.



---

strangers to acquaintances to a relationship deserving a more solidified title than
“my best friend.”
though we were a duo of Souls raised in the same, insignificant midwestern town,
our stories didn’t tangle till
a tiny flicker of light from a program’s candle
caught the attention of two sets of eyes- the ocean and the trees-
and we grasped onto it so tightly that the Horrors of our pasts seared away
with each drip that the burning wax brought to our skin.
it wAs with this opportunity of hope that we grew together,
like a pair of golden roses,
in the lower deck of a baseball stadium; at a quick-moving, eNergy-destroying amusement park;
in the drive-thru of a pizza place in sandusky; at the end of the dock
on that crystal-clear lake with smoke in the wiNd and laughter in our lungs.
breadstick after breadstick was eaten as we mulled over the ones who had broken our hearts
and the times we’d wanted click “end game” On the controls of our own lives,
and it was iN that restaurant,
in our insignificant midwestern town,
that you said i saved you- and i made room for you in my heart.



--- 

you’d been before but
hadn’t understood.
so it took three years of convincing and obvious manipulation
to bring you home to a family you didn’t know you needed.
didn’t know existed.
you stood in front of everyone and declared your presence,
“i am here,”
with your voice singing out and fingers picking at a guitar.
there were Jokes to be said and stories to be told and you took to the people you mEt.
and the whole thing broke your heart
and the whole thing mended your heart.
and i got to watch it unfold.
we sat iN a circle with the others,
peanut butter and jelly squishing out of the bread
and onto our fingers, during the time when no one could decipher
if it was night
or if it was morning.
and your shoulders relaxed as you settled in to the seNse of belonging.
a knowing feeling that you didn’t have to see any farther because
these were the people you looked so long for.
and so you and i wore our short, lace, white dresses
and mine had spArkles
and yours was plain
and we were so different but so much the same.
then we cried and hugged and wiped our mascara away,
because we were related before.
but now we were a new family altogether, you and i.
the acceptance the love the respect the story the friendships
are what you gained-
because you left your old self behind.



---

our first hello was in a crowded room-
you center stage and me lost in the crowd,
and my sleepless, hallucinating, delusional mind decided to call out to you.
how lucky i am for that.
we met. and a year later, we met again- though a divergent factor
played itself out this time. Because, this time,
there was a quiet harpist hiding in the shadows of our past selves that played us a tune
of fRiendship and possibilities.
the next time we were face-to-face, we were older and (probably) not wiser, And i found that,
beneath blankets wrapped around our shoulders and white dresses and red suits,
and fingers laceD together,
our stories were so much the same.
but we watched the sky turn from black to orange to pink to blue,
and i reaLized that you were kind and soft and honest and i was everything you were not.
harsh; unbelieving; jagged; closed-off;
yet so accepting of you. and so you lovEd me anyway.
you knew more about music and friendship and life than i did (do),
and still you reached for me when unforeseen surges of anxietY presesed
the sharp tips of my fingernails into my palms.
so i chose friendship over pain- and it occurred to me then that they were two ulterior forces.
not the same wrecking ball, but a feather and a brick:
they did not weight the same.
and so-
never change. and if you did, i would be there for you all the same.
and because i am me, and nothing like you,
i can never get “thank you” right.
so this is my thank you- if for nothing more, then for just being
you.



---

it’s funny to think about it now- the
way that we met.
i was her friend and you were her brother, and there was nothing more to our story.
and this is funny because
you have proven yourself to be far More than “someone’s brother.”
yes, you are a quiet bravery- like a song that grows louder as it goes along.
you are a hushed competitor: a card game intensified,
but only because of the plAyers,
and not at all due to the rules.
you have advanced prospered improved succeeded risen.
you have grown into a leader, a humble force to be reckoned with.
and most imporTantly, above all else, you are
a good friend.
i promise with flesh and bone and all i have thaT i will do my best
to comfort and love your wonderful sister
as long as you keep doing the same for mine.
and when you bring the world to its knees one day, i won’t be surprised.
i saw it coming,


---

our new worlds were created only days apart from
one another’s. and Months later, when they collided, a blessing
with your nAme, and freCKles like scattered paint,
and a laugh that could bring spring in december
strode into my life with the sound of sneakers on the tile of a church basement’s floor.
yEars have long since passed
and now you are a reminder of home.
you are a sense of familiarity.
you are an indepeNdent soul with story to be told and the
strength to do so.
and when it getS to be too much (because life is known to be too much),
i will still be the one to sit with you at midnight
in a forEign state with eyes everywhere
and hold your hand.
because we are meaningful conversations in the back of coach buses
and the older sisters with a natural
instinct to protect.
so life may carrY our paths in varying directions, but that will never affect us much
and this is why:
no matter where we go
or who we become
or what disasters masterpieces we create,
our stories of origin will
forever
remain the same.


Friday, August 19, 2016

When Heaven Spoke

1. We were discussing their lives and deaths outside, under the summer's night sky, when the first sign appeared.  I was actually in the middle of asking, "I wonder if they are closer than the stars are?" when a shooting star flashed through the dark.  It was to our left- and it wasn't the brightest thing ever- but since we both saw it, we knew it was real.

I was so excited that I jumped out of my seat, blanket still slung around my shoulders. I kept saying, "that was your sign" over and over.  He smiled, but wasn't totally sold on the validity of the shooting star.  So I sat back down and our conversation continued.

2. It was the second shooting star that had me really believing that something greater than us was listening.  It was right in front of us, too; a small, bold strip lighting up the sky for a quick moment. I told him, "That was her saying, 'I told you it was me.'"  He admitted that it was definitely weird and I smiled for a long time.  I was fully convinced now.  In all my years of living in this state, I'd seen a shooting star once.  So twice in one night?  That was magical all on its own.  But he just said, "If I see a third one, then I'll believe it."

3. The third shooting star was illuminated for a longer period of time than the first two- and it glowed far more intensely.  And while the other two traces of magic(?) heaven(?) other-worldliness(?) were visible enough, this was completely different.  This one was directly in line with our horizon, starting on the left and scanning the entirety of it, ending on the right.  We shot out of our seats and started gathering our things.  "That's weird" and "That's enough" were said again and again.  We stepped inside to process what just occurred.  Because this was reality- not some dream or fictional story.  Just like these people had been, this was real.

---

I've always believed in some type of afterlife- because, otherwise, I've just never seen the point, you know?  But having people I knew/cared about pass amplifies that tenfold.  Because they changed me in some way and they were kind and funny and genuine and, most of all, deserving of more time.  And to believe that it all just ended for them- that's something I can't bear to imagine.  And so I have to believe that they are somewhere greater.  A place where there is no pain or hurt or shame.

A place where there is no death.

It is a place with sunshine and sunsets and laughter and music and friends and joy and peace and books and fuzzy blankets and art and beaches and magic and love.

A place where there are shooting stars.

-Jordan xx

Twitter: www.twitter.com/Jordan_Winans
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Tuesday, August 9, 2016

I don't know how to grieve.

Death has recently played a big role in my life- and more than once; so I have been left with a big question mark in my head. I just have no idea how to grieve. I've lost family members before. I've lost acquaintances to suicide. But the losses I'm going through now are unlike the previous ones. These are a new force altogether.

How do I grieve?

Do I get an allotted time to be sad? Angry? When is it appropriate for me to stop crying? When will I be able to stop crying? Is it okay to sit by the lake in silence, alone, until someone calls me inside for dinner? Is it okay to lock myself in a room because I don't want to talk about it anymore?

Because, most times, I don't want to talk about it anymore.

I don't know what's more frustrating: the people who casually bring up the death(s) like it's no big deal for me to talk about them, or the people who just randomly start talking about the death(s) and shortly after add an optimistic spin to the whole thing.

I'm sick of both. Both make me dig crescent-shaped impressions into the palms of my hands. Both make me dig into my purse for a Xanax. Both break my heart while I try to keep a straight face.

How do I grieve?

I talk to them sometimes. Sometimes, I try not to think at all. Sometimes, I try to focus on completely different things to ease that weight. Sometimes- this time- I write. I don't know if any of it helps. I don't know if any of it makes it worse. I don't know if any of it does anything.

How do I grieve?

I have nightmares. They come and they go, but then they tend to find their way back to me. I have moments when I'm in a conversation about something else and I remember. Remembering is the worst part. Because I get lucky, occasionally, to have my mind drift to other topics, but it always comes back to them. And each time I remember, each time I see those texts, each time I see those posts online, each time I see their faces smiling from memories in my mind, it hurts.

I don't know how to grieve. Maybe I'm grieving the right way. Or maybe it's all wrong.

Either way, the way in which my life goes forward from here won't change the fact that their lives are at a forever-long halt. And I think that's the tragedy of it all: I get to live and they don't. And that doesn't seem fair to me. None of this is fair.

I don't know how to grieve.

I don't know how to grieve.

I don't know how to grieve.

-Jordan xx

Twitter: www.twitter.com/Jordan_Winans
YouTube Channel: www.youtube.com/jordanashleywinans
Vlogging YouTube Channel: www.youtube.com/jordanwinansvlogs
Tumblr: www.battle-wound.com
Instagram: @wtvr.jordan