Category Archives: Observations

What Once Was

I know I didn’t fall from grace

But I am here,

Looking in the mirror

Staring at your face

Where once in unison our hearts beat

I couldn’t wait to share

My life stories laid bare

Somehow, now, I feel defeat

The connection that I had

With you has released

The distancing increased

It is neither good nor bad

It is what it was created to be

It’s darker now than ever it was

I cannot feel you in my blood

A monument of a you and I; “we”

Murder

I am repulsed by the weight of my skin

As if my every breath is a sin

Emotional trauma’s affection

Dissociative disconnection

Grappling a height I’ll never climb

For long ago, I was left behind

Every step I’ve made, I’ve done alone

Bitterness in my haunted bones

Illusions of love, of commitment, of joy

Are rotting with lies set to destroy

At times, I believe, I will rise above

That I will know peace of the mythical dove

But the curtain falls and the show is done

And I realize I have never won

I’ve stepped in line with my own path

Which cost me relationships in its wrath

But choices made were neither bad nor good

But all were made from a basic falsehood

That I was never good enough no matter how I tried

So, you see, I murdered her, so that I could live and thrive

The Lake

The lazy green-brown water giggling silver in the breeze

Aglow with the pure enjoyment of the heated evening

Sunset birthing the cotton-candy dusk, reducing the trees

To royal purple mascots of the Blue Heron’s seating

A fish flashes rainbow-sided far from the shore

A nearly silent explosion of prismatic rain

Relishing mosquitoes and dragonflies galore

Survival the only and longest campaign

Big Bands and Crooners

Trombone sliding around trumpets

Ole blue eyes and Crosby balladering

Loudly enough on the hi-fi to be heard in the kitchen

Cinnamon and nutmeg joined in chorus

Butter whipped with rich brown sugar

Sunshine egg yolks breaking out of their shell

Clouds of flour rising with surprised impudence

and vanilla competing with cocoa

(depending on the recipe)

Blended, folded, mixed, stirred

always in time to the metranome of music

Oven preheated, we hand our offerings into its maw

Patience.

All dishes are washed. All surfaces cleaned.

Attend to the hopeful gifts being transformed

Dusting, vacuuming, beds long made

Wait while the trumpet solo reaches cresendo

Patience.

With the ring of the timer, we engage our success

while Big Bands and Crooners celebrate with us

Groundhog Day

The atmosphere is filled with fear

While the scythe swings deathly near

Labored breathing, barely there

Scars of battles warn: Beware!

The flies swarm round like vultures keening

Recycled life of profound meaning

The Otherwhere claims the tiny soul

Regret is mine for the life I stole

Soul Pool

Soul Pool

I have existed for eons before I was born

As a descendant of my womenfolk

Who have cradled me within their wombs

Nurturing my spirit they have always known

Just as I know them in my aging, dusty carcass

Animated by their tribal songs that lent me their breath

Extending their pneuma into my mortality

Anointing me with collective wisdom as my inheritance

Courage emblazoned like a scarlet letter;

ushered in with fiercest loyalty

Resilience bestowed as an endowment of hope

Strength of a champion intrinsically passed down

I am born again and again, basking in the immortality

Reveling in the joyful victories of lives well lived

Lamenting the horrors and pains that are birthed;

And rebirthed, and again

I am my mother’s eyes, my grandmother’s faith,

My great-grandmother’s charm,

my great-great-grandmother’s muscle memory

I am because of their willingness to grant me

This Soul Pool in which I float and swim

The Game

Life is playing a game without all the pieces

With each tick of privilege you chance increases

Starting out you may have an advantage

Because your parents may have somehow managed

to assemble the board, or the cards, or the tokens

Or maybe they’re too scarred, too scared, or too broken

Maybe you’re born with a mouthful of silver spoon

Or maybe you discovered your birthright roughhewn

Perhaps you’ve never known hunger or that some go unloved

Or it could be you’ve been neglected or boxed without gloves

Maybe your sweet sixteen was tender and kind

Or your mom’s gone to get high again, drunken, and blind

Maybe you’ve always known that college was the on the table

Or maybe you’re the living moral of Aesop’s fables

The game doesn’t end until your dying day

But while you’re alive, you’re required to play.

Assemble the pieces as best as you can

with the knowledge you glean from every human

Roll the dice whenever it’s possible

learn from your mistakes; your choices are not impossible

Have faith in your heart, remember oneself

This game ain’t for wimps, but it IS do-it-yourself

An Exception

We are taught all our lives that there are norms.

Ways to behave and how to perform

We’re punished if we color outside of the lines

cinching our spirits to fit the confines

removing authenticity, forcing conformity

but we’ve done a disservice in all its enormity

Take exception from those “laws”

Run around naked with all your flaws

Be who you are without any doubts

Experience the joy! Scream and shout!

You’re validly beautiful when you’re true to yourself

You weren’t made to be perfect, stored on a shelf.

You were meant to experience life at full throttle

To demonstrate to others, to be a role model

Life is too precious to indulge what society thinks

Be the exception to the world, not a lip-sync

TAMP: Abbie

Abbie is a dynamic human. I truly admire how she rolls with whatever comes her way.

She walks into a room in a hurricane of glittery animation

Energy pumping through her space

like air so rich it almost feels obscene

Pigpen from the Peanuts,

surrounded by dust,

has nothing on the confetti of joy

that explodes around her with distracted purpose

Sticky notes are posted everywhere

so she doesn’t forget, but

sometimes she does

When that happens,

she merely pauses before redirecting

her vision, her drive, her day

She is a tempest of radiant inspiration

enraptured in her creative personality