I’m really sorry.
I’m sorry to add another cloud to this already dark and dreary night. But it’s going to get icy regardless of what I write.
I’m sorry that reading this poem may make you feel awkward, or uncomfortable, or upset. I never wanted you to be anything but happy. I never want you to be anything but happy, though I have no idea how to accomplish that.
On Tuesday, I drove a lot and sewed a bag and ran around like a chicken with my head cut off. I shook some people up and sat some people down and then ate Mexican food with my roommates. I watched a couple of movies, movies that made me feel things, and then I remembered sometimes I don’t watch movies and feel things. So I wrote this poem.
Do what you will with it. I’m not sure this poem should be prefaced with my usual “enjoy.”
“Songs Outside Their Season
By Maggie McGinity
In trying to save you,
I became you.
I took the bullet from your hand
And placed it in my heart
Willfully failing to understand
I’d lost it from the start
But dreams, but dreams do carry
Far beyond their deadline day.
This small chance to ferry
Fantasy to reality; what could I say?
It’s not only you,
But a long line of fools,
Who their chances all missed.
Lone and leaving,
I not believing
That dances still exist
Outside these walls
Of springs and falls
I could not think
That dreams may drink
Long after their nativity
So what could I say?
Obligation getting in the way
Of any self-preservation
I set aside my reservations
Praying I wouldn’t be left alone
In this rescue mission all my own
For these things never go the way I want them to
But going was all I ever wanted to do
And so I gave up sleep
And all sanity and reason
I took my trust in myself
And turned it into treason
For love and love and love and love
And loss and lifelong lesions
For souls which, from their first birth, search
For songs outside their season
Truly, it was as perfect
As it could hope to be
For we are not what’s sometimes thought
Nor what sometimes seems
An odd alliance bought
By surreptitious schemes
Though motives are stranger by far
They dabble both in dreams
I just wanted to be better
Than anyone’s ever been to me
Baby steps toward feeling
More human than machine
Happiness I’ve rarely made
It’s no great loss to me
A moment for all the help I’ve paid
A cog in life’s machine
Should love be given or earned?
Love is never free.
From everything I’ve learned
Neither applies to me.
Would were I but loved to dance
And nothing else I see.
Would were I but loved to dance
And no one else but me.”
Quotefest, a festival of quotes:
“Happy is Hermia, wheresoe’er she lies;
For she hath blessed and attractive eyes.”
-“A Midsummer Night’s Dream” by William Shakespeare
(A Direct Cinematic Quote:)
“But for now, let me say – Without hope or agenda – Just because it’s Christmas – And at Christmas you tell the truth – To me, you are perfect – And my wasted heart will love you – Until you look like this:
But knowing nothing matters
It’s just life
So keep dancing through”
-“Dancing Through Life,” from “Wicked” by Stephen Schwartz
“Take my hand,
Live while you can.
Don’t you see your dreams lie right in the palm of your hand?”
-“Ordinary Day” by Vanessa Carlton
“She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends.
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget.”
-“Hotel California” by the Eagles
“A long, long time ago
I can still remember how
That music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they’d be happy for a while”
-“American Pie” by Don McLean
Now I retreat back into my corner of knitting, cleaning and Netflix. Merry Christmas.