emalmc

  • connection

    so here we are…
    in search of a truth that doesn’t want to be found
    except by accident.
    i guess that means we’re stuck here,
    until one of us stumbles onto it.
    maybe you can help me
    distinguish truth from reality,
    and then we’ll see where dreams fit —
    because why shouldn’t i cherish
    the dream i created?
    it’s real enough to me, isn’t it?
    but it’s not *true*
    and that matters to me,
    since we can’t be us without you.

  • paths

    the air is different,
    and i remember it fondly.
    it once carried the promise
    of infinite possibility —
    but you can’t get that anymore,
    you know.
    now it carries
    the scent of that promise
    with subtle hints
    of bitter sweetness
    that (are sometimes
    not so subtle
    and) always leave me aching
    for the paths i didn’t take.
    maybe some are lost,
    but i can feel in the air
    that some remain,
    buried there beneath
    the words i couldn’t
    still can’t
    want to
    might not ever get to say.

  • pen+watercolor

    a few pieces i’ve been sitting on that i’ll be gifting next week, and i finally got the bright idea to scan them for posterity. i quite like these ones!

  • needle-felted daisy

  • 121325

    i’m surprised when you listen —
    when threads of our conversation
    weave into the fabric of our day
    and
    i’m surprised
    when your cleverness means
    my own won’t go unnoticed
    or argued away
    and
    there’s a calmness
    in being understood
    implicitly,
    a gentle comfort
    in never spending energy
    defending myself
    against the devil’s advocacy
    of every single thing
    contradictory to me —
    and i wonder if you can hear it
    when i whisper.

  • crushed

    the weight of forever,
    knowing it’s more of this,
    has pressed harder still
    until
    i lay unmoving in the earth
    and wait to melt away.

    and then

    you’re there, and you see me.
    you offer me some tea
    and the bits of me
    i thought i’d never see again
    start coming back

    and then

    you’re there. can you help me?
    i’m rebuilding myself
    in my own image,
    but i’m not sure how
    to fit all the pieces.

    so if that’s where you are now,
    maybe we could walk together
    and watch the birds
    until we figure out how
    sisters are supposed to be.

  • spark

    i let you steal my light
    to support your habit
    of pretending everything’s alright
    while the world burns down,
    and now i’m alone –
    because pretending can’t withstand
    the little bit of scrutiny
    you might get from me
    if you take my hand
    and move forward together,
    instead of back and forth
    like a dog on a tether.
    but even the dog knows
    it shouldn’t be like this,
    yet she forgets the weather
    for one moment of bliss,
    and i would be remiss
    not to mention that you’d never
    put the dog there in the first place.
    just me.

  • i’m still here.

    i know, i know… i made this site back in february, and by april had essentially abandoned it. the truth is that i got some potentially devastating news in april and have spent all my time since then just trying to press onward, staying busy to keep myself from worrying too much. things have been good, and they’ve been bad. but now, i expect that i’ll have my answer within the next week, or definitely within the next two. at the moment, i’m in a lonely, restless limbo – putting on a brave face and trying to prepare for the worst. i’ll try to let you know when i find out. maybe then i’ll stop being too paralyzed to create.

  • untitled

    “nothing”
    would be welcome,
    if it were truly so.
    but nothing is always
    something,
    & sometimes,
    it’s actually everything.

  • labor.

    the laundry that takes
    twice as long
    because everything is inside out

    the dishes that are
    crusty with food
    because nothing has been rinsed

    the messes that appear,
    inexplicably,
    on every surface, every day

    the endless clutter
    of things that have a home
    but can never find their way

    the careful shopping
    and poring over options
    to save the most on needs

    breakfast, lunch, and dinner;
    morning and bedtime routines

    bus stop twice a day,
    supervising outdoor play

    checking temps and giving meds,
    cleaning vomit from floors and beds

    fixing what needs fixed,
    solving problems that exist
    and preventing countless others
    through hyper-vigilance

    anticipating the needs of six
    and managing a team of four
    who seem intent to operate
    in near-constant discord

    one unofficially designated
    executive functioner,
    head of thinking and doing and being,
    first of her name
    and first one to blame

    but then you say i don’t have a job,
    so tell me – who is doing it all?

emily mccormick,
artist.

i used to identify in more specific ways – writer, photographer, crafter. i’ve come to understand that they’re all branches of the same tree – that no matter the medium, what i’m creating is art.