Bone Dry

 
the summer days were long and lovely
on our commune we share beauty, art and laughter
talking among the flowers we share our dreams
connected to the Earth we vibe in vibrant colors
the people and times were good
everything green and singing its own song
we connected to each other and the music carried us higher
we love each others souls
sex was not an equation we met who we truly were
reflected in the gaze of my sisters and brothers
a family blossom and bonds became stronger
the trees sway in unison as we dance to the summer winds
collecting clam shells on the canal
and talking about dreams not gathered
Alice's garden in the morning is where we meditate
focusing on the day before us
I touch the skies with the smiling faces around me
the word of the day was picked each afternoon
a word we didn't know
we would debate on its meaning then google it later
always broadening our horizons
each of would then go our separate ways
and work on our artistry
a wonderous place we called home because of our family


one day violence crept in along with some foul spirits
disturbing the minds of our loving family
voices were heard and fights ensued
chaos ruled our ranch with smashed art instillations
angry words were the words that ruled the day
bitch, whore and liar
paranoia the culprit
all things fair turned sour
the trees and flowers had no way of saving us
but I blocked out the noise and refocused my energy
centering myself each day and meditating on the sky
I touch heaven and brought my loved one back to earth
along with the rest of the family
we give our support unconditionally
he knows he's loved
and is seeking outside help
sometimes you rise so high you encounter the super natural
it is a growing experience
I am happy in the knowledge we will gain wisdom from our trials

Bad
Tomorrow is trash day.
Tonight I’m ready to throw away what has haunted me in the past.
Young it’s like things were different.
Surrounded by many but very alone.
Punished for the very sake of the word.
Innocent I pleaded.
Pleaded mostly to myself.
I was the only one that really listened to all my burdens.
That was how life was.
Seemed for a long time that the mental and physical abuse would never end.

Good
Being active is how I passed the time.
In my grateful room I sometimes called a prison.
A release of the pain I once felt.
Creating resistance how could I know I was gaining strength?
A visit mean’t the world to me.
These eyes have seen some of the worst things.
Things I’ve heard that were awful have now been defined.
Prayers have been heard.
Persistent on moving up.
I stayed on the right path till I peered out.
Risen from my own league of shadows.
Things make sense now.
Mature I’m dealing.

All These Years
-
"I have waited all these years"
she whispers in the night,
seeking solace  
from her life,
hiding from the light,
wishing to forget....
...her fear of
living.
A hard life
of broken promises
and a lifetime of regret
has
desiccated
her soul,
a dried and brittle thing,
but once,
a long time ago,
she  
was free,
dreaming endless dreams,
living in her fantasies,
but the dreams  
....just stopped one day,
leaving her with a child and endless need.
Now,
when time permits,
she whispers in the night,
one last  
dream
of eternal rest
------------
Give Me Sadness
-
give me sadness                  
and give me pain                      
for I will grow through grief                      
and transform sadness into rain                      
                      
I will laugh as the earth is renewed                      
cherishing this bittersweet mood                      
                      
weeping in mirth                      
and laughing in agony                      
I am finally alive                      
my spirit revived                    
                      
I walk through the shadows of my soul                      
parched desserts                      
and churning seas                      
to find ....                      
life is the same on the other side                      
                      
but I have changed                      
and everything is rearranged                    
                      
I see our laughter filled with grief                        
and our desperate attempts to flee                        
hiding from our sadness                      
choosing to live within our madness                          
    
with sadness and pain  
we choose to feel everything  
and though these trials our spirits grow                        
learning to love even in our sorrow

I had hung my head

I had forgotten the feel of long pine board as it met my shin
.. and my mouth the wet feel of confession
My God
The whisper of it had drawn from bow
.. to silence
My back had arched from nearer to thee

And then a brutal morning led to a garden
.. My Mother
Her sweet care caressed a cry for help
My God
His hand upon my wounds absorbed by his

I returned to his feet

I. Afternoons after

I've been stealing stale air
from your coffin,
breathing it onto passers-by
to see them turn black,
dry up and crack.

But they just carry on,
plodding to the shops
bringing back their plastic bags
and sympathetic smiles.
I hope it rains today.

Under dripping branches
I dispersed you,
watered you down
into long wet grass.

The stream washed you clean
and all I could hear
was the thud of droplets
on my rain coat hood.


2. Visitation rights

The car park is pay and display now
and I know I'll say to someone  
"it used to be free"  
just to hear my voice  
and watch my words dissipate  
in pretend smoke plumes.  

I chose the old bench,  
it seems to fit the curve of my back  
and I like the rough crackle of green paint  
splintering into that front door blue.  
It reminds me of your paint palette hands.  

The foundations have spread beneath  
the rivers bend, the fallen millstone  
flashes silver ghosts of breached wellingtons  
and spun dry socks, the bark and flap  
of dog chased ducks.  
 
The old stone bridge  
lends its arc to frame the fields beyond.  
A heavy frost is hiding fleeced sheep  
from my cold watering eyes.  
 
I didn't get the hot chocolate,  
Nigel would have asked  
and I need it to be summer,  
its back packed sandwiches,  
its childish chase around the toilet block  
and the dressed in all the gear  
walkers, saying "we come here every year"  
 
Yes, Nigel would have asked,  
so I'll see you when it's warmer.  
I'm going to wait in the car,  
give someone my ticket,  
and they'll say "thank you"  
I'll say "you're welcome"  
and they'll know I miss you,
but I'm fine,
so you're not to worry.