Posts for June 16, 2024 (page 4)

We met at St. Thomas Aquinas for Wednesday Summer Evening Healings
She, a wise elder, a genteel countenance, a soothing soul, so sweet to behold,
She breathed pauses as her words floated on emmmmm hmmmmm’s

We shared a lazy summer afternoon at her house reminiscing
Her only daughter ~ Mary Anne ~ had recently disappeared in Florida
Elsie had hired a P.I. to find her
Eventually the body was found
Elsie and her husband forgave and accepted God’s Will

On this day we sipped iced tea and went back to the beginning . . .

Elsie Ruth Mc Ginnes, was born many moons ago in Chestertown, Maryland
She was the second of four children ~ in a boy girl boy girl pattern
Ghost stories told of a headless rider who hung out under the town bridge

Elsie smiled ~ as her eyes clouded over in a far away gaze
She breathed a long emmmmm hmmmmm and rhythmically continued . . .
“You know dear, Chester River runs through the township of Chestertown.”

She paused, closed her eyes for a bit and added, “History was one of my 
favorite subjects. Math was so much harder. Mother was a school teacher,
she got me through Mathematics.”

She quietly smiled as we both sipped our tea. She took some time to digest
her past and bring in more stories; “I grew up on a farm with only 10
students in my class. The half hour of athletics each day was such fun!”

I asked her if she had to walk a great distance to school,
She smiled fondly as she remember, “Daddy had to take us to school
everyday. We had an old Ford car and an old Ford truck.”

Proudly she said, “We grew up in Queen Anne’s County. We met Princess
Anne once and I was one of the fortunate ones to shake her hand.”

I asked about her husband Emil. Story goes . . . she met Emil through 
Father O’Lonney, who convincingly brogued it to her,
“Elsie, I gotta a man for ya ~ he’s got a gift for fixin’!”
They were married in Old St. Mary’s Church 58 years ago . . .

After a long pause she ended our Memory Lane chat with a wry smile and a 
twinklin’ in her eyes . . . “Ah, Daddy, he’d give you the shirt off his back!”

Half of you left,
Who left you here?
Your grease soaked cheese
And dried up sauce,
The bite marks on your ends
Blend into the rocky concrete,
Everyone avoids you,
Careful not to step,
They don’t avoid you out of love,
No,
They’re selfish,
But I,
I want to see you thrive,
And I wait for someone to take you home,
Untouched,
Perfect.

Fished again this year, Dad. 
One iridescent perch. 
Lovely fish, but small.

Only went to the park,
stayed close to home,
since Dre is still unwell.

(I thought that honored you as well)

Later, on the deck,
a shaggy, mottled sack
of feathers chirped at me.

“Baby bird, you need 
to get moving.” I scraped
the mower from the garage.

Churned its wings, hurled
itself upon my backyard fence.
Curled into a spiky ball.

Its father thrashed from the nearby
holly tree. Bright orange chest 
between me and the fledgling.

“This is a little on the nose 
for Father’s Day, don’t you think?”
I asked the Robin out loud.

He looked at me in a way
that said: “You get that I’m a robin?”

And I said: “Fair enough.”

For all intense purposes
you should hate me
because I wouldn’t listen
didn’t try to understand
why you wanted to take us away
from our mother’s hands.

I was thirteen,
but growing up so fast,
it felt like I was thirty,
and you wanted a divorce
from my mother
and to take us back
to your hometown.

I didn’t see
that Mom abused us
with her harsh words,
that she slapped my brother
with golden rings on
like brass knuckle punches
to the face.
That she abused the drugs
given to her to stave away
her seizures, kidney failure,
blood clots, constant pain.

I refused to see the bad
because she was my mother
who played videogames with us
on the multicolored living room rug
and let us stay up late
to watch television shows.
Who scrounged to make us cakes
on our snow day birthdays
and did her best to be
at all school events.

Who sat with me in her lap
and sang me her sweet lullaby
every time I needed to cry.

So I hated you instead
for trying to make us leave,
for ruining our family.
I did my best to hurt you
the way you were hurting me
and I said words to you
that ensured you’d shed tears.

Fast forward through the years
and I see now
what I didn’t see then
thanks to therapy
putting things into perspective,
and I realize what I did to you
was hurtful and unjust
because at the end of the day
all you did was care about us
and tried to save us from abuse
that I did not see, refused.

For all intense purposes,
you should hate me,
but when I called you today
to wish you Happy Father’s Day
you smiled, said thank you,
asked me about my plans
and at the end of the call
you said, “I love you!”
and in that moment
I was glad to have you
as my dad.

I am done vying
for your approval,
done with begging
you to like me.
I won’t be your white
maze rat any more.
I won’t keep bashing
my sore pink nose
against your lever,
over and over, hoping
for a crumb of cheese. 

She appeared 
early morning surprise
one poppy
salmon colored petals with splash of peach.

Tiny droplets of dew
cling the scalloped edges.
Deep purple pistil 
central to the bloom.

Delicate gift
wrapped in the feminine,
the muse
cluster of life.

To Dennis Donovan

One hundred years.
Eighty borrowed from
humanity unhinged.
He sits when he’d like to dance,
rises to his feet
when friends come calling.

I told you I’d be back,
he smiles.
The King and his queen sent
their greetings, invited him
to a grander court,
with heroes’ hurrays.

Where have you been all day?
he asks, later, your hand in his
after we made our way
through the town he liberated.
He rises to feet
on the spot his captain fell,

salutes his brothers and others lost.
War is no good, he pleads
to deaf ears, relentlessly cycling back,
to the rythm of fanfare, offkey
We did what we had to do,
he defuses, softy.

He lights up to every child
he gets to meet him,
We did it for them..
And it shows.
You’d bottle it if you could,
humanity restored.

They did it for us,
you know what you owe.
The friendship and family
he welcomes you to
is the icing on the cake,
sweet,                                gifts that keep on giving

no fork, no spoon needed.
He sits when he’d like to dance,
you watch him sing,
count your blessings
for sunny days.
I’ll be back next year!

you feel your hand in his,
for days to come,
keep smiling through
till the blue skies
drive the dark clouds
far away.

I stomp halfway downstairs
tip-toe back up.  

My mind flapjacks.
I turn around.

I stomp halfway downstairs
tip-toe back up.  

I hear silent expectation.

I walk deliberately all the way downstairs
and into the kitchen.

I strap a Santa mask
across my face.  

I peer through eyeholes
at my granddaughter.

Magic moment of uncertainty.       

nothing planned to do
eat some lunch and then take a nap
read a book and rest

dogs bark sharp–
deer outside
window. i stumble
into pups who run
so fast they glide
across smooth
pine floor,
their nails
click-clack-tap-
clatter-scramble.
i punch in code–
they jump, yelp
more, squeeze
out as door
opens. in dim
moonlight, we
see deer leap
over paddock
fence. soon,
pups rush back,
one-by-one,
settle down.
ritual event
ends well–
all safe–them,
me, emerging
sunflowers.
and deer.
so glad tonight–
no skunk.