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One Leg Up
18 · Jul · 2002
A poem/song I wrote...
One Leg Up
When I was 16, I was an angel
I was perfect, I was clean, I was right
But I knew I had to leave Oklahoma
I just needed a good reason to take flight
I tried my hand at love and being human
But I never took the time that it required
When I strayed, my excuses they were mighty
I was the honest man's pretty little liar
Well you never know what sister fate can do
How time eats up your strength to turn around
Going forward becomes your only option
When you've got one leg up and one foot on the ground
Seraphim, a doll with dirty wings
I was used; it was a show that fell apart
Looking in the mirror, no reflection
The toughest thing is knowing where to start
But you never know what sister fate can do
How deep within you is the strength to turn around
And going forward from that spot is the best option
When you've got one leg up and one foot on the ground
He was a cowboy with a heart lit like a beacon
And his eyes could make a statue stand and cry
Two arms that could hold a wild angel
And a love that is worth every fight
I can't claim that I hold the secret
To life or flight or arts of peace and war
But I believe in God and third chances
Cause when you think He's done, there's always more
Cause you never know what sister fate can do
How deep within you is the strength to stick around
And believing your own advice is the best option
With one leg up and one foot on the ground
Penny René
Posted by Penny Rene at 02:09 PM
No Mistake
6 · Jul · 2002
Sometime around 1976 an attractive woman named Virginia moved into Rolling Meadows Estates subdivision onto my street, Willowbrook Drive. Virginia was the first person I ever recognized as being divorced. As a five year old, the status of “divorced” translated into “hip, wealthy, busy and alone”.
As the years passed, lots of kids’ parents were getting divorced and none of them seemed to mind so much because there was a sort of compensation package kids got when their parents split up – toys. A new bike, weekends in exotic places like Texas and Missouri, extra clothes, more slumber parties and an endless array of liberal babysitters.
When my own parents’ relationship was clearly on the rocks, and my mother announced their divorce to us children at the kitchen table, I was relieved. I love my parents, but I was also sick of their fights and the thick tension that infected our home. However, by my thirteenth birthday, their divorce was final and I was beginning to realize that this is not a happy transition in a family; it’s a devastating blow for which there are long-term consequences. For my family, there was no extra cash, no weekends celebrating the parents’ new freedom, no attempts to purchase the love of us kids by either parent. Neither parent dated anyone else that I know of and we kids never felt the need to split ourselves in half to accommodate them.
My parents went on with life as before, only they now were alone.
At my high school graduation, I was one of the few students who did not have to separate my parents on opposite sides of the field house. Their relationship was no longer a battle and when I was 19 years old I had the privilege that most kids only dream of. I, along with my brother and sister, watched my parents marry each other again.
For the last twelve years my mom and dad have stood by their story about the reasons why they did what they did. Both of them say that they never stopped loving each other, but that they had a hard time getting along and over the years they were apart, they changed and came to recognize that they still belong together.
It never really occurred to me what their friends and my aunts and uncles must have said and thought when they decided to remarry. I imagine that my mom, who initiated the divorce, must have wondered how to return to a man she once said she couldn’t live with another second -and vice versa. And my father must’ve wondered if she would try to change him or if she really loved him as he is. And vice versa.
What a vulnerable position to be in; to admit that something that you thought was a mistake is no mistake at all.
A month or so ago I was with my parents, listening to them argue (they still do) and I found myself thinking about a man that I have loved for years but have a hard time getting along with. He – far more than anyone I’ve ever known, gets under my skin. I’ve hated him; I love him and everything in between. It’s been eight years and I think I may have done everything that can be done to ruin the bond we have. I find myself now at a place where my heart is torn open wide and I have every reason to run. But I think about my mom and dad – how love is never what we think it is. And I ask you: What is love if it is not worth fighting for?
_____________________________________________________________
Who Am I
I remember
How you loved me
And I remember how you pushed me away
Then you pleaded for reunion
And I chose another way
All these years I searched for you
One who’d have the guts to fight
A miracle convinced me
That you were right
So who am I
To ask you for a chance?
How would I
Hold your heart with a glance?
How dare I
Promise to be true?
I’m just the one
Who’s in love with you
Small devotion
And our anger
How it cut us into bits
A wavering friendship
We never asked for this
I can’t explain my revival
Or how I got from there to here
For the table to be turned
It’s everything I fear
Now who am I
To ask you for a chance?
How would I
Hold your heart with a glance?
How dare I
Promise to be true?
I’m just the one
Who’s in love with you
Who am I
To ask you for a chance?
How would I
Hold your heart with a glance?
How dare I
Promise to be true?
I’m just the one
I’m the one
Who’s still in love with you
For a past
That’s said forgiven
And love and hope that lie in wait
I offer up my reckless pride
No more can I run away
Still who am I
To ask for your forgiveness
And who am I
That you would take a chance
How dare I
Promise to be true
I’m just the girl
Who’s in love with you
Penny René
Posted by Penny Rene at 03:58 PM