TAMP: Sharon “Shern” Crane

Me reprising the Christmas Kiss on Miss Shern’s cheek

A long, long time ago, I watched colored lights pass my studio window. Every night, they paraded across the parking lot of the apartment complex I lived in with my family. I decided I wanted to meet this alien.

A few evenings later, I had the great fortune to meet Miss Shern. (Her accent is very Tennessee which causes her to say my name like MAY-ore.) She and I got to talking about life, the universe, and everything becoming fast friends. She wore the battery operated Christmas lights so that people could see her as she walked her dog, Candy. Candy was a fat beagle who was well loved; sweet as could be.

As time passed, Miss Shern and I would commonly seek out each other’s company. She would come solve the problems of the world at my kitchen table with a good pot of coffee and sometimes some sweets.

A different friend of mine gifted me a feathery charm to hang over my doorway to keep evil spirits out.

After spending several hours with Miss Shern, she was heading out my door when the feather adornment caught her eye.

“What’s that for?” She asked.

“It’s to keep assholes out.” I replied without missing a beat.

“Does it work?” She prodded.

I looked her dead in the eye, “Apparently not.”

We laughed about that harder than we should have. We still tell that story.

She is the kind of person you could ask anything of, talk about anything with, and she has a clunky sort of grace that is truly sincere. She gives selflessly to various causes having served 30 years with the Red Cross (I think it’s more, but I’m pretty sure that’s the number), decades at The Holiday Bureau which supplements families with holiday decorations, gifts, and other such things. She raises money for gifting snacks and drinks for the Police, Fire, and EMS. She volunteers at warming centers in the winter time. She serves on the Oak Ridge Housing Authority Board.

She is quick to laugh. She explores the world with the wonder of a child and the wisdom of living. She’s an avid reader. She’s taken up caving and hiking. She goes to classes at The Oak Ridge Senior Center to expand her vast knowledge. She is impressive as a human.

I have a lot of favorite people, typically it’s for one reason or another, but she…she’s the whole enchilada. I adore her, her heart, her passions, her compassion, her emotional bumpy-bits, and her laugh. This world is a better place with her in it.

Growing Myself

My ancestral wisdom is tangible in my sunburnt skin, tasted on my compassionate tongue, washed in glorious joy, baptized in horrific sorrow. I am spirit ever expanding, heated with a desire to be loved, buried in the beaches of hourglass sands using a cracked red plastic bucket and a too small yellow shovel. I’m thirsty for knowledge, recumbent in peace. I am decayed by grief with only a mildly offensive odor. I have rebuilt myself, my life, my dreams with non-stock aftermarket replacement parts out of every past me I’ve ever been.

#2699

Darkness when I close my eyes. Pinpoints of light flare and fade against the backs of my eyelids like constellations. I imagine myself walking along …

#2699

“But our past selves are a kind of ancestor too, I realize.”

I’ve packed up my old selves.

Some are in cardboard boxes

Not neatly arranged, but haphazard

Strewn about through my ages.

Some are neatly painted wooden heart-shaped chests.

There are broken pieces of sharp wood and rusty nails scattered about

If you peek inside the ones with the missing pieces;

Lids askew,

You’d see a lot of damage on the remnants of me in those

But if you put on the complimentary rose-colored heart-shaped glasses

You’ll know my intentions were true, even if theirs were not.

Some are in disco 🪩 balls sending spectrums of reflection outward

Loud, frantic movements, jutting hips and ruby painted lips 👄

But who I’ve become is more than those but still the sum

Healing Hugs

I hugged shame

I loved disgrace

I encouraged peace

To the weeping face

I heard confession

I felt mercy

I held his hand

Told him he’s worthy

Removed the prison

Of spoken word

Showed him value

By actions served

He sobbed for relief

From a god he doubted

Regret his badge

His sight; sin clouded

Visible pain

ached his soul

But his words dictated

Desperate control

Will he surrender?

Forgive his heart?

Remember his humanity,

That is tearing him apart?

I can’t fix him

Or make things better,

Just let him feel loved

Releasing the debtor

For Us All

When I say I pray,

I pray for us.

I take my knowing of your Spirit as it has met mine

Reminded that we are of one heart; one people

Faith turned inside out as a beacon of compassion;

kindness gifted a mortal coil

Our lives are bountiful with profound joy and excruciating sorrow

Both, in their own way, unspoiled sweetness like honey

Both archaic and newly birthed

My tears are as salty as yours,

my blood as red

Our grief shatters our hearts wide open

but so does the ecstasy of awareness

of abiding love; ever expanding

A welcomed blessing imprisoned in prosaic words

An offering of obedient relationship with one another;

with the interactive chaos of the world

Let us be a harbor for one another

in the turbulent, roiling depths of uncertainty

So when I say I pray,

I truly pray for us.

Big Emotions

I eat big emotions with a ravenous hunger

gnawing on skeleton bones from my closet

just in case I missed a bit of sinew or gristle

making sure the osteology does not reassemble

into overwhelming feasts of horror

which must be returned with a clean plate

Where tears get sopped up with the bread of life

blood gets drained from the cups of my history

Scars and scabs are filleted into thin slices

childhood terrors served with wooden-spoon whipping

cream gone sour, bitter, painful to swallow.

I dig through my closet of deconstructed moral injury

dab my satiated lips with a crisp linen serviette

closing the door behind me.

Unknown Sacrifice

The earth requires sacrifice

The blood of generations

Spilled to sate the thirst

Women’s children slain

Prayers washing sins away

From the dearly departed

Best dressed pieces

Shards of life protruding

Draining deeply into the mud

Returning to the dust

willing to be sheep for causes

Draped in flags of uniform coffins

Souls unwittingly worth pennies to borrow

Billionaire comfort on widow’s grief and sorrow

Dumped

Some fool thought it would be a good idea to desert a rooster and a hen near a heavily traveled road in a shopping district by my house. I’ve been unsuccessful in capturing them so far, but it’s getting dark and I have corn.

My fashion first mindset is full on right now.

My shirt has 3 chickens on it and reads
“I ❤️ dinosaurs “
This is the dude I’m chasing

Whatever The Face (VIDEO)

The poem I wrote after speaking with a woman who was dealing with profound grief amidst the loss of many kinfolk, including her son.