Breathe

Sometimes I just can't
find a way to breathe I can't
think of other things.



Caren E. Salas

Up the Down Escalator...

Why am I always
        running up the down escalator
Crossing the runway
Wrong way
On a One Way?

Why does it always
        feel like I'm on the freight elevator
Going to the basement
Not sent,
But still I went.

I wander down blindly
       down the outer corridor
Looking for the right doorway
Can't stay
'Cause I can't pay.

Running in circles, up and down, round and round
I'm screaming for help,
But not making a sound.



Caren E. Salas

Writer's Block

Sleeping in the night
Dreaming in my bed
Stories, songs and poems
Are racing through my head.

Standing in the shower
My mind is filled with rhyme
But like the water I dry off
The words get left behind.

Sitting at the beach
Basking in the sun
A million things I want to write
Yet now I'm finding none.

Waiting at my keyboard
and...
and...

Nothing.

Caren E. Salas

Who knows?

Who has the answers, the reasons, the cure?
Who knows how long I will have to endure?
I don't like this game; I'm tired of playing.
And don't tell me "God", 'cause I know He's not saying.
Doctors and therapists, no one quite knows,
Blood tests and studies, nothing that shows.
And why is it so surpising to find
My frustrating conclusion that everyone's blind!
If I can't find the strength to ask when I'm needing,
What makes you so sure I would scream when I'm bleeding?
And if you don't look under the smile to the sorrow,
What makes you so sure that I'll be here tomorrow?

Caren.

Storm of Tears

Storm...

  not passing

Streets flooding

Stopping traffic

Anger rising

Fists pounding

  on my steering wheel.

Can't stop it

Can't stand it.

Tears...

   not ceasing

Tornado warning

Life spinning

Control waning

No turning

  back to how it was.

Can't help it

Can't hang on.

Help is on the way,

   they say...

Meanwhile will I

   just slip away...?

Caren E. Salas

The Words

I can write a story about unicorns and magic.
I can write a poem about Christmas, and December.
But when it comes to writing songs I just can't hear the music,
And it seems it's just the words that I remember.

So that's why I tell you, to say the words,
And tell me everything about you.
I want to know that you'll be my friend,
And I will never have to live without you.

And someday in the future, when I am old and grey
And my feeble memory begins to fall apart
The music will escape me, and I'll dance to it no more
But I'll still have all the words you told me, deep inside my heart.


For my dear friends.

Caren E. Salas

The Waiting Room

Waiting room
Impending doom
Yellow walls
No life at all
A dreary scene
Old magazines
A phony smile
"It'll be awhile..."
Patients sigh
Stay calm? I try.
A minute more
An open door
My time has come
Too late to run.


Caren E. Salas

Flying

I woke up one morning
And wanted to cry
'Cause I knew in my heart
I could no longer fly.

When did I tell myself
Grow up I must!
No more pretending!
No more fairy dust!

And when did I stop
Believing I could
And start to live in a world
Where I do as I should?

How can I find
The place I once knew
Where dreamers can fly
And wishes come true?

Is it still out there
Up in the skies?
Wait, I think that I found it.
It's in my children's eyes.


Caren E. Salas
(For the Peter Pan in all of us)

Hope for the Year

 Here we are starting a new year. I've given up on "New Year's Resolutions" because let's face it, very few people actually keep those promises they make to themselves.  At this time of year, however, I do remind myself of the things I would like to change, or do or be.  I'm thankful I'm still healthy enough to do some of them.  I face the year not necessarily with expectations but with hope.  I don't expect my life to suddenly be sunny and bright. I hope it will be better than it has been in the past. I don't expect to wake up one morning singing songs while I do the housework and loving every minute. I hope I'll be able to get things under control.  I don't expect that my MS will be cured or that I'll stop aging. I just hope for another year of time to spend with the ones I love. 

So Happy New Year to everyone!
Dream big! 
Hope eternally!
Love unconditionally!

Caren.

Time for Christmas

Busy, busy, busy...so much to do!
People to buy for, malls to race through...

Cookies to bake, cards to address,
The relatives are coming, quick clean up the mess!

So many presents under the tree,
That one's for you, this one's for me.

But one gift is missing. It's simply not there,
And it's one that will truely show that we care.

For in the bustle of parties and such,
Sometimes we forget that which means so much.

The Gift of Time.

Time for spending with a friend over tea,
And talking for an hour or three.

Time for hugging someone you love,
And sharing the things you've been dreaming of.

Time for reading with a little one dear,
And whispering "I love you" into their ear.

Time for a phone call to someone afar,
So they know that you love them wherever they are.

Time for a prayer for those who are ill,
A card or a message "I'm there for you still."

Time for old movies that still make you cry,
and for remembering the baby, who came here to die.

So wrap up this gift, and take time to recall
That time is one of the best gifts of all.


Wishing you all Time for Christmas,
   and more to come in the New Year!!



Caren E. Salas

(I wrote this a few years ago, but it's one of my favorite Christmas thoughts.)

Just What I Needed...a Little Whiskey

You make me smile

I am intoxicated

You calm me down

When I'm irritated

You're my addiction

And my therapy

Just what I needed

A little Whiskey.

You make me laugh

At random moments

And when I cry

You give me comfort

I know I'm not alone

'Cause you're beside me

Just what I needed

A little Whiskey.

You help me live

Outside my normal

And now there's no words

Like "impossible"

I just can't get enough

It's plain to see

You're what I needed

A little Whiskey.

Caren E. Salas

My little dog: "Whiskey"

My Big Green Love Note

My love is not a poet

He doesn't dance or sing

He doesn't bring home roses

or gold and diamond rings.

But when I look outside I see

The love song that he wrote

It's made of grass and plants and dirt

My own big green love note.

It's filled with peace and restfulness

and beauty fully grown

It's a place where we can just escape

Without ever leaving home.

Thanks honey,

I love you too.

Caren E. Salas

Sleep.

Sleep eludes me like a child
   playing hide and seek.
I count to ten,
   I cheat.
   I peek.
Ollie Ollie Oxen Free!!
   Okay, you've won.
   I give up.
   I'm done.
No matter where I look around.
Sleep just simply can't be found.
So I'll just wait right here and see...
Perhaps in time, sleep will find me.

Caren E. Salas

She Waits...

The rain begins to fall, in drips
The clock up on the wall just ticks away
In fear of what she does not know
She looks out of the window
And she waits.

And as each moment passes by
She wonders when will it arrive?
The call, the news the clouds and rain
She sits in silent torture
And she waits.

The drops of rain turn into showers
The moments passing turn to hours
Raindrops, teardrops, nothing's clear
She tries to hide the fear
And still she waits.

The showers lead to stormy night
Daylight hours, have taken flight
Sleeping waking nightmares call
She tries but eyes won't close at all
She waits.

The rain begins to slow to drips
The clock up on the wall still ticks away
Her bed, the dark, a warm escape
Tomorrow is another day
To wait.



Caren E. Salas

True West

I'm not sure if it's the season, or the weather or what...but lately I have felt not merely uninspired, but unmotivated. My days just blend, one into the next, as though I'm just replaying the same song over and over.  I have heard people refer to their passions as their "true north", but my love seems to aim more toward a "true west". I turn to the ocean whenever my spirit needs to be refreshed.  I listen to the voice of the waves. I taste the salt in the wind as it bites at my face, and feel the flight of the pelicans as they dive straight down into the sea to catch their next meal.  When I was a young girl I used to swim under the water, and feeling my hair swirling freely, dreamed of being a mermaid.  My heart is made of seashells, my veins are strands of kelp.  My soul longs to swim.

A visit to the beach is what I need. Anyone want to come along?

Caren E. Salas