Hi sleepy/please don't eat me.
Part I
Upon awakening a long-asleep tiger,
ancient but ageless, old in years but
vibrant, healthy, and so very strong,
approach slowly, crouched.
As she stretches, yawns, gathers herself together and
rises, takes in her surroundings, including you,
extend your arms in a surrender pose,
smile, and say in a light, breezy tone,
"Well, hi there!"
Do not mistake her puzzled expression for passivity.
Do not mistake her lack of pouncing-motion for apathy.
Do not think for one moment that she was built for anything other than your
complete and utter dismissal via destruction and digestion. Do not
think that she is interested in your purpose here, that she will run her actions past her God first, or
will meditate and make sure destroying you is the best next right thing.
Cautions understood, you are aware of the risks associated with
facing a carnivore with the foggy mind of one long dreaming, the achy empty
stomach of one long hibernating.
You can look her in the eye, and there is no need to run. It would excite her anyway, running
would make her want to exercise her long muscles and the game-like quality of your form prancing away, reeking of adrenaline and the sweat of fear would only please her oldest instincts.
You do not need to run.
There is a conversation the two of you need to have, a silent but serious
communication, occurring between one who was once a cute, cuddly ball of fur, and one who was once an innocent girl who didn't think such a small thing could do such large scale damage. (she remembers when the drooling kitten gnawed on her small hands, napped next to her, shared her blankie, binky. both so small, the small that can tumble and snarl but then laugh and come running when mom calls.)
So sit down, slowly, and look her in the eye. She is not angry, she just needs you to show her that you are not afraid and are willing to face her.
She is NOT ANGRY!
(just hungry.)
sara elizabeth mcneilly ammon, 05/21/2013
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Monday, May 13, 2013
Submit!
As I prepare to
send you some of the things that were
born in my brain and came out of my
hands onto this page or
onto that paper, I pause for a moment
and think of how odd it is, the fear
the gut aches and the
fuzziness of mind accompanying
the simple act of
submitting ones innermost self
for another's approval.
Assuming that you are not
repulsed or annoyed
embarrassed for me, indifferent or
simply off work the day my
envelope graces your desk
or file appears in your inbox
or portfolio rests upon your lap,
I implore you to be kind, and yet
welcome the dismantling of my
ego, as it should not be presenting papers
under my name.
I give you tiny chunks of my past in paragraphs
or throw a story at you hoping you catch it and
want to throw it into some else's
arms, like it enough to think on it later, I give you
small portions of my experiences or my
imagination or the synaptic firings of mere
boredom, I give these to you freely, and welcome
the absence of the feelings I get when I realize how long I have
waited to be who I am.
SEA 5/13/2013
send you some of the things that were
born in my brain and came out of my
hands onto this page or
onto that paper, I pause for a moment
and think of how odd it is, the fear
the gut aches and the
fuzziness of mind accompanying
the simple act of
submitting ones innermost self
for another's approval.
Assuming that you are not
repulsed or annoyed
embarrassed for me, indifferent or
simply off work the day my
envelope graces your desk
or file appears in your inbox
or portfolio rests upon your lap,
I implore you to be kind, and yet
welcome the dismantling of my
ego, as it should not be presenting papers
under my name.
I give you tiny chunks of my past in paragraphs
or throw a story at you hoping you catch it and
want to throw it into some else's
arms, like it enough to think on it later, I give you
small portions of my experiences or my
imagination or the synaptic firings of mere
boredom, I give these to you freely, and welcome
the absence of the feelings I get when I realize how long I have
waited to be who I am.
SEA 5/13/2013
Thursday, May 2, 2013
small poem for small thoughts
tending to ramble,
the struggle is to keep things little
and the small fact and small thought is
as important as the big and glorious.
even a small scratch can infect, and
I will not wait for the Big moment and the Big idea anymore.
my days are numbered as are all who breathe and waiting for the Huge Big moments is a Big waste of time, I want
small things like my daughter's eyes glinting as she draws, my son's laugh and peaceful humming to himself
the scar on my hand, small as the tip of a cigarette, shows me the tiny calm moment when
I knew I was
alive despite my best intentions, and was, for a small moment, relieved.
a little smile and a small breathe, my lungs work and I am here, now, and you are no longer here. You can't write anymore, sing anymore, and I can. If I don't, that's more than a small insult.
so jot down the
short story ideas and
sketch a 5-minute moment fuzzy from a short dream
I put away my Big fear and stop being a Big baby so in a small way
i pay a small bit of homage to you, I say goodbye to you a little at a time, and do the things you
told me to do when you were here.
sara ammon 5/2/2013
the struggle is to keep things little
and the small fact and small thought is
as important as the big and glorious.
even a small scratch can infect, and
I will not wait for the Big moment and the Big idea anymore.
my days are numbered as are all who breathe and waiting for the Huge Big moments is a Big waste of time, I want
small things like my daughter's eyes glinting as she draws, my son's laugh and peaceful humming to himself
the scar on my hand, small as the tip of a cigarette, shows me the tiny calm moment when
I knew I was
alive despite my best intentions, and was, for a small moment, relieved.
a little smile and a small breathe, my lungs work and I am here, now, and you are no longer here. You can't write anymore, sing anymore, and I can. If I don't, that's more than a small insult.
so jot down the
short story ideas and
sketch a 5-minute moment fuzzy from a short dream
I put away my Big fear and stop being a Big baby so in a small way
i pay a small bit of homage to you, I say goodbye to you a little at a time, and do the things you
told me to do when you were here.
sara ammon 5/2/2013
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