writing

It’s Been Awhile…

| Laura Lee Bonde

Well, I’m out of hiding. Here’s a small explanation of what happened to put me in there.

For the longest time, my blog’s been my journal. I’ve been this “open book” for years, and then, I remarried my ex-husband.

The marriage hasn’t been going well, and I’ve been writing along the way, until late January, when he read through my website. Anyway, since then, I changed my settings to “private” and, for the most part, stopped writing.

Since then, I’ve written some poems on Facebook but never transferred them here because it was “private;” I mean, why bother? And as far as my other writing has gone…well, it hasn’t, but I’m tired of hiding, so I’m letting my website be seen and will start, next week, hiding any work that involves my husband.

If you want a private life, never marry a life writer, and if you don’t want anything bad written about you, then treat people well, and if you don’t know how to treat people well, get help! There’re many resources out there to assist you along the way.

Communication is the key that unlocks the prison of unresolved conflict.

“Without a Friend”

| Laura Lee Bonde

So, this morning, I wrote this poem, and right after, I updated my website (which was WAY overdue). Honestly, I think writing (and posting) this poem on FB broke through the chains that were holding back my fingers from the keyboard.

The only fear that exists is the one I agree with.

“Without a Friend”

where is it?
where did it go…
the writing?

how could a passion just
disappear
is darkness really that strong
I KNOW it’s not

so where did it go?
where is it…
the writing?

“The Last Dance”

| Laura Lee Bonde

[1/9/17]

what is normal
anyway

what is normal
anyway

she sought her own
way away
and in the club
she saw

who she wasn’t
but who she needed
to be

that first shift
came with endless
drinks
a vicious circle
never meant to be

every hello
came with a compliment
every tip
came with a touch

something needed
something wanted
something more

a vicious circle
never meant to be

day after day
shift after shift
drink after drink

who was God
anyway

who was God
anyway

the darkest road
without an end
but just maybe there was
maybe there was

one by one
things removed
dancing stopped
drugs ran out
and step by step
led to recovery

just me with Him
to find me

“Fear of Writing”

| Laura Lee Bonde

I wish you knew me
all the bad relationships
I’ve been in

day after day
month after month
then years

wasting the time
meant for my kids
yet lost in a man

since living for God
loving my body
I’ve had three relationships

one too horrible to remember
one too secret to tell
and one now

but this time
I’m married

each time molds
new memories to forget
in my kids

each time
their whole lives
I’ve made them second

now holding them
first

but this time
I’m married

I had so much hope
of a happy home
Finally
I was doing things right

but in whose eyes?

meltdown after meltdown
every time losing me
every time…existing

but I want to Live!

where is the light in this tunnel
if love never fails
then what?

how long is faith supposed to last
until it works?

it’s in these moments
when I’m left inside to write
that feelings come out

feelings of doom
feeling estranged
feelings of lesser

last wednesday
I had a meltdown
in marriage counseling

so much so
she’s dividing us
to counsel separately

I hope that helps

friends tell me
God hates divorce
it’s not about being happy
you need to change
etc

but they don’t ask
how it is
so they don’t know

he never talks to me
or the kids
he’s isolated in front of us
takes everything personally
has intimate issues

we’ve become strangers
roommates

sex is non-existent
because of me
I’m not okay
with having sex with a stranger
I’ve done that
it’s called prostitution

see?
writing is my honesty
I begin to write a poem
but more comes out

in words
in tears
in sighs

there’s still a part of me
that fears
writing how I really feel

“And you He made Alive”

| Laura Lee Bonde

first part of a Scripture
and I can’t get past it
only few words
yet endless meaning

And you
He made
Alive

Alive
Alive to live not exist
Alive to experience not isolate
Alive to every moment not asleep
Alive to every thought not weak
Alive to discover not ignore
Alive

so live
to experience
every moment
take thoughts captive
and discover who
you’re living to be

it seems every thing in life
has a switch
it’s up to you to turn it
on or off

Salt, Death, and Flight

| Laura Lee Bonde

***

“you won’t find her flag
caught up or down the escalator
she’s gone
dancing in heaven”

That was a poem from my dream, written by Katie about me. It was a horribly, sad dream.

In it, I’d been trying like crazy to organize a trip for me, Katie, and Ariel, and all the packing was up to me.

After rushing like crazy to leave for the airport, Katie refused to go with me.

We were in this huge apartment building with many floors, that had the appearance of a mall. From one floor above, I saw her just sitting at a table, refusing to move. I hollared for her to hurry, but she just sat there and dumped (what looked like) five pounds of salt on the floor.

I was so angry.

As I went down to talk to her, she vanished, and I was left, standing in the salt, reading this poem she wrote. And all of a sudden, I realized the poem was about me and saw that no one could see me. At that moment, I realized I was dead.

***

Right then, the alarm woke me up. So badly, I wanted to fall back asleep and have a do-over for a new dream, a new memory, but I couldn’t, so I got up, crying.

It reminded me of this woman in recovery. She’s seen the pain I’ve gone through with Nathan leaving, and every time I see her, she asks how I’m doing with it.

Then, she asks about Katie, “Has she changed her mind yet about leaving?”

I always reply, “No, she’s still leaving.”

Then, she says, “What’re you going to do?? That’s gonna kill you!”

I often wonder why she says that but haven’t mentioned anything. Evidently, I dreamt about it.

“Pondering”

| Laura Lee Bonde

in the silence
she writes
to become what she is

no mirrors
no windows
just reflection

there’s the past she’s forgotten
and a past that she makes
only one worth remembering

every word
every tear
every breath

released in a song
moved by a poem
expressed with a word

in the stillness
she thinks
where she was and is

sometimes the memories
whether bad or good
help navigate the way

so she thinks
so she writes
and she sings what will be

What I Deserve

| Laura Lee Bonde

before I left for Texas
so many friends in church said
“I’m so happy for you, Laura!
You deserve this.”

really? I deserve this?

does that mean God
is a punishing God?

or does that mean we all
have decisions to make
to learn
to grow
to become

along the way
after twenty-two years
I’ve changed
but Scott hasn’t
at all
and if I’d never married him
if I’d never moved out here
he never would’ve known

it takes courage to change
and it takes courage to stay
just not sure how strong I am

“Salty Lunch”

| Laura Lee Bonde

let me describe part of yesterday to you

Katie at the sink doing dishes
Scott in the living room holding Ariel
Carolyn in her room
and me at the kitchen table eating some lunch and crying

the only thing holding me back
from writing that poetry
are the comments being made
how I should only speak positive

if you only knew I had a calling
to write the rawness of what’s real
but then again
would you believe me?

so to not write would be listening
to man
and to write
would be listening to God

but then I have moments of doubt
of course
because part of my listening seems “off”
since I’m so sad

how do you lie through a life
saying everything’s okay
when inside most of the time
you’re on the verge of tears

how many people lose their life
and those around them ‘didn’t see it coming’
when asked how they were doing
did they simply “i’m fine”?

if honesty is so healing
why do people say to hide it?

when I write I release
and walk away lighter
stronger
with a clearer mind

when I don’t write
I seem to lose the battle
until I write

a wife without a husband
a mom without a child
a silence without laughter
are only memories and imaginations