Guest Blogger: Laura A. Lord

Hello! Today I am lending my blog out to one of my best friends, the very talented author, Laura A. Lord! I'm so excited about her new book,Of Roots and Wreckage, and for you to hear a little bit about her and read one of her amazing poems. Enjoy!

https://youtu.be/nKG9HQGcbc0

In Of Roots and Wreckage, Laura A. Lord moves us with the imagery that has come to define her poetry. Whether looking into the brutal truths of where one calls home to moments of reveling in the joy and pain of an aging body – Lord is  to exploring in raw honesty the smallest of moments and describes with startling clarity the mysteries that move and break us.

Want to win a free copy of Laura’s Of Roots and Wreckage? Enter Laura’s Goodread’s Giveaway Here!

Her newest collection, Of Roots and Wreckage, focuses heavily on where she grew up. Split into three sections, this collection explores the ideas of “roots” and hometowns, of people and change, of aging and death.

Here is a selection from Of Roots and Wreckage:

Sometimes Death Looks like Christmas Breakfast

He is preoccupied with my age.

Three times this week

he has tried on,

as if fitting a new shirt

and tie,

the emperor’s voice:

commanding,

in charge,

in control.

“You can’t get older.”

Yes, your majesty.

So the soft skin crinkles

at the corner of his eyes -

tracks of worry.

The railroad trance,

where imagination runs rampant

and he sees me

spread like a ragdoll,

draped - a cloth of human existence.

Like the scene from Gozilla

where the soldiers were scattered,

play things,

and he shoved in handfuls of popcorn

while asking

“Is that what dead looks like?”

Sometimes.

Sometimes it looks like Christmas breakfast -

where I am frying bacon

as eggs congeal on plates,

and I am aware she is not in her seat.

More aware of her absence, then,

than in the hours, days, before.

Yes, sometimes death looks like Christmas breakfast.

© Laura A. Lord 2015

Pre-order your copy now!

Laura A. Lord is the author of numerous collections of vignettes and poetry and one awesome children’s book about a T-Rex screwing up her entire day. It’s absolutely a true story.

Laura’s work has been featured in The Beacon, The Collegian, Whirl with Word, Tipsy Lit, Precipice, Scary Mommy, The Powder Room, The Reverie Journal, and Massacre Magazine.

You can find this author and poet in all these wonderful places!

Twitter

Facebook

Soundcloud

YouTube

Amazon

Goodreads

Google +

Pinterest

Independent Author Network

Dystenium

In the Middle of a Gray Rain

It’s weird to be approaching summer and not have a “summer break.” Even though I worked through the summer last year, this is the first year that it’s hit me that all my summers will be this way. Back when I was in school, I was so used to always working towards a goal. That goal was always finishing school and getting a good job. Well, I've done both of those things, and it’s a good life. But, I can’t shake this odd feeling of “what now?” Is this all there is to adulthood?

There are so many things that need money, and never enough money to go to the things needing it. The car repairs are vital, but expensive, and require me to take valuable time off from work—time that I’m trying desperately to save to spend with the long-distance boyfriend. There are relationships to be maintained, housework that needs to be done, payments that have to be made, doctors’ appointments that have to be attended. Everything in life is in a constant state of decay. I feel like I’m constantly trying to get rid of the ants in the kitchen, keep the car from suffering larger issues down the road, fill cavities before they become root canals.

Somewhere along the line, I became an adult before I really knew what that meant. Heck. I don’t know what it means now. All I know is that life got a lot harder, and somehow, at some point, I began to feel more alone than I ever have.

Maybe it was when I lost loved ones. Mom Mom and Carvey were the only grandparents who ever really showed any interest in me or put any time into me. Even as I got older, they didn't stop caring. I still can’t talk about either of them without turning into a big, weepy mess. And last night, I went to a rehearsal for my first play since losing Anita. It was hard, because it reminded me of her.

I hadn't realized how much I emotionally relied on them, especially Mom Mom, until they were gone. And my life just…changed. Unlike any time before in my life, I've become so fearful. I’m so afraid of everything. I’m afraid of illness, disease, traveling, pain, other people, and even myself. Suddenly, I’m not just afraid of dying—I’m afraid of living too. I’m afraid of loving, of losing, of the future.

I've never wanted to become this person. I want to live, but I feel so empty, so anxious.

I still enjoy my life. I still have fun every day. I've got the best family and friends in the world, and I’m madly in love with my boyfriend. It’s just that the loss of these loved ones left me shaky, standing on infirm ground. Somehow, my identity got wrapped up in my great grandparents, and without them, especially Mom Mom, I feel kind of lost, and terribly alone. In reality, I’m probably the least alone that I've ever been in my life…yet…there is that feeling—the feeling of standing alone, in the middle of a gray rain, not another soul in sight.

And I don’t know how to remedy that.