Tag Archives: culture

Itchy Heart

venom flying past my window
breeze keeping it aloft
seeking sunlight & warmth
broader view from inside
but
YOUR religion, MY god
MY party, YOUR politics
PC, not PC, name calling
what about respect?
what about kindness?
what about leadership?
fool hardy notion
once things were different
were they?
more than once we were a nation
were we?
now little empires
tiny, small
empires
minds
Itchy Heart


Happy Birthday Justin

Today is my middle son’s birthday. He would have been 27 years old. Living with loss is a funny state of being – we fight it at every turn, always dimly aware that it is inescapable. We create habits to keep us from losing our keys, our place in a book, lists so that we don’t forget one of life’s latest ingredients, we play puzzles to keep from losing our memories and thus, our minds. All this effort to avoid the ultimate equalizer of death. Justin died of SIDS the week before he would have been 6 months old.

Like anyone, I did not want a tremendous loss to be part of my reality. Not me, I don’t belong in this club. A good mom, a great mom…she’s not the mother of a dead child. It’s odd how I let the words of other people sometimes reinforce this falsity. I have to remind myself, they just don’t get it. All of us, regardless of your beliefs, we are human and must investigate our surroundings, our relationships, our relationship to everything through our unique perceptions and abilities. We are not meant to be perfect. If we are lucky we maintain the ability to shift and learn through the lifetime process. If we are luckier still, we have love in our life that is not lost but transformed and weaved into our story. Is it always joyful? No. An easy road? No. Is it worth the risk? Yes.

In past years I’ve often marked anniversary dates with poems to record my feelings regarding the death of Justin. I’ve never wanted to proclaim myself any more knowledgeable than another person on how separation by death feels. I felt that poetry was vague enough to easily be molded to others’ perceptions so that they could decide if there was benefit in my words. I still believe that to be true. Today is different. Today I want to risk being more direct about my feelings regarding Justin. I want you to know about him and the importance he plays in my life and who I am…and who I am becoming. Yes, he is sometimes seen as that tear you want to hide from – sometimes that silly smile as I sing along with an old song – he is part of me…every day. I want you to know so that you can understand why I am celebrating today. Like my other sons and all the important people in my life, Justin is worth celebration.

Please do me a favor as I honor his memory and place in my life and take time today to celebrate those that matter to you. Celebrate them if they are standing next to you, across the country, across the world, in a different belief system, a confusing time in their life, a confusing time in your life, in a difference of opinion, or simply in your memory. Allow me today to be bold enough to proclaim the importance of loving, deeply, with your entire self, even at the risk of losing it all.


Twerking Monkey

photo

 

I have a twerking monkey
She sits up on the shelf
Staying nice and low-key
Always sticking to her self
Until the music finds her
Drifting toward the sky
I see her toes start tapping
From the corner of my eye
The toes are entertaining
And her head begins to bob
With a tutu and a headpiece
This monkey ain’t no slob
But as the tunes continue
I question how much fun
Is a dancing monkey with
So much jiggle in her bum


Underpinnings

what lies beneath

is not a horror

movie or show

we are the supports

shoring each other up

to polish a stone

it is still worn down

don’t let each other crumble


Iconic Twig

a single bulb

red

bends the branch

wrapped in blue

taking me back

newspaper schedules

annual shows

no demand

just a wish

to be home that night


Pleonastic Mortal

 feeling abandoned & forgotten
we search & seek
 then wish & hope
to be more than an optional accessory
 becoming an eternal phoenix


Silk Thread

how cliche to be on a thin line

but aren’t we all?

spin, bounce, weave, unravel

entangled, forlorn

he knew that he could not fly

spinning lifeline 

hoping for a complete end

bouncing lifeline

the struggle just multiplied

weaving lifeline

thwarted death choices

unraveling lifeline

band of struggling youth

entangled lifeline

lonely in a crowded room

forlorn lifeline

welcome to the rest of the story

life on a line

 

 

 


Family Values

lying in wait was more tolerable than lying in worry

watching for her to peer around the corner

sprinkling sparkling remnants to be crafted into

something, anything

pretending that words could matter on a screen to

someone, anyone

but the visits became more sparse

returning me to words that drift on air from

one ear, another ear

leaving me wondering if ownership exists

when attitudes are hurled like a storm

nobody recording the cold temperature of rejections

or the burn of a verbal punch landed on another

denial the likely outcome of useless confrontation

and the mantra, buzzing in my head

“what other people think of me is none of my business”

so less so should their shenanigans towards one another be mine

or is that true

do you ever stop mothering, do they cease to be your child

I am old enough to know that ridicule is a beast

in the pocket of the unleasher

how do I convey that to a young man

that is trying to trust, trying to love

in a world where even those closest to you

disappoint


Craigslist Anonymity

standing at an asphalt junction

with a stranger that filled every space with himself

I gave the wrong answer.

What do I do?

I love, nurture, create

I cook, hike, bike

I breathe fast, I breathe slow

I plan, I’m spontaneous

I change my mind

I think, revel, stew

I love big, huge, and small

I discover, hide, ignore

I leave space for others because I know that I exist

no need to prove it by filling all of your space

What do I do?

I live

on purpose, without purpose

I laugh more than I cry

reflect within, reflect without

the mirror is ME

the mirror is YOU

we live

I dance

with rolling hips and laughing heart


Moonless

the cow

the spoon

raping, reaping

siphoning cream

from the milkyway

does it matter

the stars burned out