Category Archives: Relationships

Deepest loss

In my experience there has not been a greater loss felt than that of a child.

In my experience there has not been a greater loss felt than that of a child.

I’ve loved you since before you were born
When I saw your face pressed
Like a violet captured
In an ultrasound I no longer have
But cherish as a vivid revered memory
As in fairy tales of old
Many lies were told
And you were stolen and kept far from your home,
from my active loving heart.
And I wept.

I’ve loved you since the papers crumpled
Unused, only to be recycled,
When the death of hope is heard
In the confetti shaped heart
That is irreparable, devoid of cohesion
Bleeding the tears of mourning
That burn with the lies told
The familial curse stood as firmly as a parapet.
And still I wept.

I’ve loved you since I witnessed your slavery
Removed with greed, falsehoods,
Shifting legends of half-truths expressed
Under the guise of protection
Under the threat of theft called the improper noun
Rebuked with abandonment
Suffered the neglect of compassion
A soul reviled, refused encouragement
Violated in every way possible.
I still wept.

I’ve loved you since before I strapped on my armor
To storm the cotton fields wrought with personal terror
With machete drawn high in the air,
Shackles of truth for the liars to wear
Jangling on my hip with keys nowhere to be found.
The hovel proclaimed as his kingdom rotted
From the inside out with starving zombies
Clawing at the doors and windows trying to escape
I saw your fetal position and spirited you away
And we wept.

I’ve loved you since I became your Harriet Tubman,
Your underground railroad to freedom
I sheltered you in loving arms with my heart repaired
Embracing the Old to reject the new wave
At the same time embracing the New and rejecting the old
Hearing your pain mocked, examining trauma
After trauma after trauma after trauma after trauma
And feeling the rebuke of your fears whipped at me
The refusal of your champion for lack of worth
The loss of faith in hope and healing
And I weep.

I loved who I became because of your life
My superhero cape dancing in the wind
As I advocated for the better world that you deserve
As I championed a life with choices once denied you
As I believed in your potential, indulgent of possibilities
Lifting your chin so your eyes could see success
Found with the wings of encouragement
With every required tool available
At the beckoning of your unwilling fingers,
Your imprisoned mind,
Your blinded foresight,
Your despised, abused, and hated body.
You have removed my necessity, discarded my gifts
Refused your glory for the sake of self-loathing
And I weep, but always I will love you.

I’m getting a divorce

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I met ‘em when I was 18 years old. I was in the backseat of Paul’s car laughing and drinking Jack Daniels chased by Southern Comfort. When you were offered to me, it just felt like the right thing to do. I mean, my friends and I were all sharing while singing out loud to songs promised at the concert we were heading down to Kalamazoo to witness up close and personal. I thought, “What the heck?”

I didn’t like you much, to be honest, but you kept pushing towards me with a tenacity that only lover’s know. I embraced you and for a while, we loved each other passionately, fully, and without remorse or thought of consequence.

We’ve been together for over half of my life. Twenty-eight years collectively where you have stood beside me as my pal, my buddy, my emotional rock, my shame and guilt. For twenty-eight years I’ve allowed myself to return to you time and again despite your abuse. Despite the way you take my breath away, and I don’t mean in a good way. I cling to you as a drowning man to a life raft. I run to you, no matter the occasion.

I know exactly how you’ll touch my body, move my emotions, and comfort me when I’m upset. I am hyper-aware of your indifference to my wandering eye because you know you’re my Master. You know I’m your slave. You know that I will give up everything I have if it meant being in your presence for just a little bit longer.

When we are in the honeymoon phase of our relationship, I can enjoy your company like an old friend being reunited with me. We laugh and joke. We carry on stories of “Do you remember when…?” And I love you for those. My emotional attachment to you soothes my body and my brain. You tell me everything is going to be all right as long as you’re with me. I let you stay far too long because I depend on your gratuitous being to cope with daily life.

But we have a problem. I’m no longer in love with you. I’m embarrassed that you show up at social events. I’m embarrassed that you dominate me into humiliating positions where I have to hide my shameful love/hate for you in public. I find myself apologizing for you before we’re even together.

We’ve been married longer than all four of my recognized wedded times. I realize, however, that perhaps, it’s time for us to go our separate ways for good. You see, I’m stealing love from my life with our relationship. My loving husband said, “I wish there was something I could say that would make you give up this relationship like there was when I asked you to wear your seat belt. I’m getting robbed of time with you because of that.” He’s right and I feel ashamed.

My husband sees me cheat on him every day and because of my long-term relationship with you, I’ve not had an interest in changing anything. Which isn’t entirely true, I’m a slave to a master that calls me when I’m uncomfortable, bored, upset, or need a break. But my love for my legally wedded husband is stronger than my relationship with you.

I want a divorce. I want you to leave and never return. You are not valued, you devalue. You are not comfort, you are shame. You are not a stress reliever, you’re an abuser, like me. You are not special, you’re the butt of every joke. You’re not welcome any more to go with me to restaurants, clubs, cars, homes, or anywhere else. You’re just not okay and I am not going to give in to the lies you tell me about how much you love me. You hurt me and I let you. You control me and I don’t like that. I don’t want you ruining any more of my life than I’ve allowed you to already.

I’m not 18 or immortal anymore and you need to understand that. I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of damage I’ve allowed you to do to me. I, truthfully, hope the only thing you leave with me is the memory of my own allowed self-inflicted version of a slow suicide that I’m aware of in my life.

I am sending you packing, cigarettes. Butt out of my life. You can’t blow your smoke screen around me anymore. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust get ye out of my life you must! You must!

P.S. June 7th is the birthday of the friend that introduced me to my own self destruction. I was no coerced, but it seems poetic to choose that day as the day I officially divorce myself from that habit.

The un-Magic wand

I'd use my magic wand to wipe away your tears and I wouldn't poke you in the eye either.

I’d use my magic wand to wipe away your tears and I wouldn’t poke you in the eye either.

I wish I could ease your suffering, your pain, your mourning,
Your torment, your misery, your carnage, your still-borning
Your aches, your troubles, your sorrows, your grief,
Your concerns, your tragedies, your anger, your disbelief,
Your frustrations, your mistrust, your anguish, your maledictions,
Your depression, your illness, your sorrows, your rejections,
Your distress, your worries, your hardship, your fears
Your losses, your injuries, your silence, your tears.
But I can’t.
I could offer you platitudes end upon end
“I understand.”
“I’ve been there.”
“It’ll be all right, man.”
But I won’t and it won’t. Not now.
I could hug you tightly and stroke your hair.
“It’s okay.”
“You’ll get through it.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
But I’d be a liar, not your emotional crutch
You’re contagious to me when you hurt that much.
I can only be me holding true to the end
“Do you need a lift up?”
“Need to talk?”
“I’m your friend.”
And that is what it is
As a matter of fact
“I’m here.” I say
And I won’t change that.

These Are My People: Peacock Feathers

Peacock Feathers

Peacock Feathers

From her lips, anguish spewed

like a witch’s window skewed

Hurricanes of self pity storms

Anchors of the loveless mourned

Eden justified with words then spoken

Taking up arms, to mend the broken.

The potent omens

the yet sung dirge

balked faith healers

faithful purge.

Sacrifice

When I was growing up, military was a part of our family. My dad was a Seabee (Construction Battalion), later, my brothers joined the Army and the Marines. My Grandfather and great Grandfather were both Army. It was just accepted that to serve the United States of America was a great honor. My family was lucky enough to have our boys brought back home safely. For that I am grateful.

But there are those like this: “I have a POW/MIA bracelet that bears the name of a Michigan Marine that never came home. Robert Curtis Borton Jr. Missing since 1966 during his first few weeks in Vietnam. Please think of his family that lost him and the future he never had.”–Ron Martell

I wrote this with them in mind.

Sacrifice

The bagpipes howl

“Amazing Grace”

Drums beat hollow

21 shots placed

The blackened sky

hangs its veil

The heavens give

a hero’s hail

to fallen comrade

man of war

from his daughter

and wife he’s torn

by seductive tendrils

of patriotic pride

under red, white, and blue

his final goodbye

These Are My People: Ben Stotler

Yule 2008

Yule 2008

I know that you love me.
I feel it on my skin, in my skin, like my skin
In my spirit, through my spirit, with my spirit;
Snaking its way through my body
Like my breath and blood.
Unashamed to explore the recesses of my reflections
Sorting through my sacred spaces like a wild child on a spending spree.
Moving forward even when encouraged strongly to turn back!
Turn back and don’t look at that pile of filth, of lies, of dastardly deeds
Stacked in the furthest corners that I disguise with masks,
Masks that vulgar people disregard with acceptance.
You refuse my please with tenderness and compassion.
You gently pull back the world I keep hidden beneath my bravado.
You don’t cringe.
You don’t run.
You just coax me from beneath my veil,
Encouraging me to seek the day with a new, braver face.
That which is my own, truly my own.
Because of this trust you’ve established with me
In an agreement of lifelong complexity,
I comply with the oxymoron of trepidational courage.
And this, my love, is how I know without a doubt that you love me.

Chronos woos Thanatos

Let the heavens encircle me and devour me whole

For there is no consolation discovered in my soul

As I stare at flirtatious Chronos, intimate with Thanatos

Life’s theater curtain dropping embroidered with asbestos

I howl my lamentations, tears are tumbling forth

I beseech every corner: East, West, South, and North

That this play has no finale, that this can’t be the last act

But there in the doctor’s lines printed, it’s a matter of fact.

My suspended disbelief refuses to actualize this truth

While Chronos solicits Thanatos with a mortal bloom of youth.

Their eternal courtship dances on the stage in front of me

I glare daggers at their conduct, contempt at their complicity

Passing the Torch

As I hung upside down from my family tree
I asked my mother if she resented me
She smiled with wind-chime clarity
Refusing to acknowledge my self-penalty.
She shook her head to disagree
My mother politely said to me,
“You will not understand. You will not see
Until that day the veil calls me
And my face you can no longer see
Just how much you’re loved by me.
But do not worry, do not despair,
For I’m not going anywhere.
My fire won’t die, you’ll hold the spark,
As I pass the torch of the matriarch.”

Nudity Not Optional

Where did my clothes go?

You know,

the warm, comfortable,

perfectly fit ones

with the beautiful colors

that complimented my

every move?

When did I get so naked?

You know,

the raw and futile

belief that everything,

no matter how small,

would keep me warm?

How did I lose my skin?

You know,

the one I felt at ease within

no matter what I tried

to accomplish;

the skin that held my confidence?

Has anyone seen my hair?

You know,

the hair that curtains my face

when I don’t want you to see

that the world isn’t as kind

as I wanted to believe?

What about my feet?

My hands? My hips? My breasts?

You know,

the ones that used to run away

when things got hard?

The ones that comforted tears,

raised the roof, fledged passions?

The ones that balanced my lost clothes

at my side as a mother to a child?

The ones that begged for attention,

offering supplication to the needs?

Where did my clothes go?

Why am I saw raw and naked?

Rose colored apples

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree

buds of generational history

blooms repeat to be the same

pink, red, rosy, given names

Rotten roots lay undetected

Bloody branches disrespected

Refused a haven in the storm

Beaten, battered, broken, torn

Bearing into the furious wind

Dropping seeds, again. Again.

The seeds removed found fertile lands

Grew tall and strong with loving hands

When they bloomed, with rooted shows

They bloomed into a fragrant rose.

The cycle once born is now rejected

crisis averted, genes defected.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree

But that does not apply to me.

Somehow there must be A same

But there is nothing in his name

The branches torn where childhood sits

are splintered, demolished. Daddy did it.

He hacked at the bushes with angry words

clashing, lashing, striking swords

No matter what gifts that rose bush gave

it was never enough, but it remained a slave

in hopes that someday, a small reward,

would champion out, three little words.