Needles and Mosquitoes

How do you find a needle in a haystack? By picking through the hay until it pokes long enough. How does that needle become a lily, budding with fruit. Clearly this summer has been a wake-up call that I have friends all over the world -- I am that wonder to myself. I have been sleeping too long and too hard.

Everyone in my life has been speaking to me since the beginning. I didn't understand all the pain and suffering, but I have to change my habits -- for my own good. I think too much. I have to hide behind this computer and write and write and write. It will be hard while I am in school and hard to focus. I have to write to people as if I am writing to myself. When I get back home I will need to post the poems of my past -- because that is what I've been hiding. I have reached a breaking point here in Colorado, but I need to stay. My family has been wanting the real me back, the one they saw brighten up and open herself to possibilies in high school. They want me back: to keep the memories of the past and look toward the future. After the fire of 1999, I became stuck and confused. My parents always took me back to that lot and showed me that a new house was constructed in its stead. I have to continue to rebuild my house -- and write the stories of my life. So it begins with now as I salvage the memories of my past. I wish I could burn the books I've read -- but I've always been in the library, reading. Now I have to scan the books of my past and move on.

Sarah Grace