Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Brother

Sometimes I think of you
and your tiny macerated parts
and how you left us all
so early
you left a hole
left whole
but some part of you behind

She feels your absence
although I never knew it
til the year of your deadbirth
1963
coincided with that other boy's
the one from long ago
and I was shocked
that she still marked
the event

But how can a mother
forget

And I wonder
at your stain on all of us
the residue of you

If you hadn't left
would the only son
still be in his mess
dragging others with him?

Would the elder
have felt the need
so strongly that
she persued the tiny seed
so relentlessly
regardless of the cost?

The pall of your failure
to be born
your stillness and decay
hangs over us

I ponder over the darkness
that remained
in the womb we both
occupied

What left with you
that she was not able
to give to me
and the stragler
how she struggles
to move to motivate
to understand
to grow

Quiet and watchful
the crowd making her laugh
and smile as she sits
and waits for it to come
to her

And the man
as sweet as he is
the one who says the words
I need to hear
never speaks words of you, but
he must remember you

I remember you
although I never met you
never knew of your existence
(yet) I remember you

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Trying to work it out

That happily ever after
does not exist
never did

Who conjured that deceptive
illusion?

My yearning, unnamed
painful
is for something more which
cannot be satisfied
this side of eternity

But it persists
revealing my perfectionist nature
ironically - a flaw

So many others sing
this song of struggle
the tension of life

I remember Anne
and the day she had
the pail
Oh, how we crave
your pure milk

I balance
walk the tight rope
fall
and feel the truth
in the pit
the necessary reality
of restoration, reclamation

How can I see the grace
unless I've faced the gallows

So I try to embrace both
"May the taint be upon you"
"And also upon you"


Untitled

Here I sit
in the mud and muck and mire
moaping about
why,
how,
did I get here
yet again?

Apparently I'm supposed
to appreciate the smooth
dark
sensual experience

But all I feel is
the dirt
the slime seeping
in where it is supposed to be
clean

Life is messy
I'm told

I can barely manage
my own mess

So what do I think
can be gained from
uniting our messes
combining the chaos

It weighs me down
like a chronic illness
cure not even a faint possibility

But can I, will I
hope
for control?
managed chaos
making it through
with you