and so all this time i've been waiting for the right picture. the right moment to capture.
something far less prosaic than everyday.

i've sought poetry in the dust that coats everything. every room is due for some
spring cleaning. dark corners of my mind have gone unused and soggy in the
melting purity of what once was perfect and clean and white. in what once was
blinding to the eyes.

each morning i rise. sun on my skin. each morning i rise. sun fills me within.
but i grow increasingly heavy holding such light. because i am weighted with
the responsibility of illumination. this little light of mine, it shines where i point
it. i focus harder. concentrate my vision until everything blurs for weeks,

until suddenly there's clarity again:

everything is illuminated.

and i am undone. done with doing.

and:

i am.

If you don't read The Sun, you should check it out. It's a fantastic example of original, thought provoking consciousness alive in the media today. (yes, there is such a thing). Something my students and I devour from it every month are the short narratives written by the readers. We use them for prompts in class as well. Here is one I sent in (or will when I get to the post office today) :

As a high school teacher, everyday I am given excuses. They come in all shapes and sizes:

I'm late because my alarm never went off.  Because so and so drives to slow. We had to stop because there were two grizzly bears mating in the middle of the road!

I don't have that paper because my computer has a crazy virus.  We have no paper in our house, and no stores are open on Sundays. I fell asleep while typing my essay, and my forehead accidentally pressed the delete button when my head hit the keyboard.

As a teacher, I hear lies of all kinds. And maybe some of my students are actually telling the truth. I don't really know. I do know, however, that I try so tenaciously to find the truth behind their words. The truth they may or may not yet be able to verbalize:

Ms. W I didn't do my homework because I'm sixteen and just figuring out this life thing, and responsibility isn't quite something I have perfected yet. Or: I'm sixteen and my paper came second to my heart--which is scattered throughout the pockets of the gossiping girls in this school. How can I focus on homework when my worst fears are becoming my reality? Or: Ms. W I'm learning how to live life for me. to not always do the right thing. to make mistakes.

And maybe these aren't examples of telling the truth either.  But at the very least, they are the lies I am willing to believe.

Sara started a little fire, and my inspiration was sparked. Maybe through the ashes of
everyday, we can find the Pheonix's flight to be a Common path.....

Tonight the wind rattles my home, seems to shake the very foundation that holds it in place. Tonight the winds of change shake me, but I am unwavering in my growth. I will not change into anything that limits me. I will not be swept away by my fears.

Tonight, as I walk in this wind, that fights the sky, the air, and everything in it's path, I will press on. I will not turn back. I will not turn back. I will not turn away from my heart.

Tonight the wind fights dirty when I refuse to give in, I throw caution, and it throws sand. My eyes are blind. This is a battle of faith. I will fill my path with love, and float on the wings of faith. I do not turn around. I do not stop until I reach my home.

Tonight I walk alone. I am empty. But still I stand. Still one foot moves in front of the other. And the wind becomes me. Becomes the strength of a common creation. Becomes more beautiful than I have ever known.

Tonight I made it home.