Friday, July 10, 2015

Cookie Jar

I don't fit
I never have
I remember looking
at my parents 
through youthful eyes
and thinking
who are these strange people
that I love so dearly
but don't quite belong with
I can't seem to help
looking at almost everyone that way 
Gypsy Wind
is my birth given handle
So far that is what my life has been
whether the slightest breeze 
or hurricane gale
It seems I have always 
been pushed
by this invisible force
an innate determination 
purpose pulling on me
an external search 
for something missing
a key to a lock
or the other half of my locket 

There are moments 
when I longingly stare 
at cookie cutters
Yearning to lay down in one
be surrounded by the safe 
complete walls
of tinseled exactness
I tried to build a gingerbread house
with all the appropriate decorations
but the obsession 
with perfection
made the house crack and crumble
and to be honest
I don't really care for frosting 
I just wanted a cookie

But I have learned
to be specific
I need to know what kind of cookies
I like the best
oatmeal raisin 
or chocolate chip
or peanut butter
Placed on a baking sheet 
they spread organically
each one unique
formed by the heat they rise from
that can be wrapped
in plastic
by mamas hands
tucked in the pocket of my soul
so I won't be hungry
When I am out on my journey
and the wind starts to blow
leaning me this way 
and that
my feet will be rooted
because I am full
stuffed like thanksgiving 
by a bottomless cookie jar
that I can reach into
whenever I need to
whenever I feel lost
Every place I don't belong
Every cookie cutter that doesn't fit
Every pair of eyes that can't see me
Every pair of ears that can't hear me
Every heart that can't let me in
I will reach within
find my favorite cookie
at that moment
break it down the middle
Half for you
and half for me
Because even if
there is not a place 
in this world 
that I belong
I will always know
I will always show you
what home tastes like
on the inside
of me