Posts for 2024 (page 57)

He stoops–
holding on to his rollator,
ringing the bright blue bicycle bell,
the grip of a Marvel comic super hero–
plants each step slowly, 
firmly on the ground.

If the neighbors ask to help–
he’s alright–thank you very much.

When young
we are citizens of the world
descendants of all civilizations
connected to the many places we learn about

I was Egyptian, I was French, and Polynesian too,
Asian, African, Greek, and more. Sailed the seas,
a child of nature, lived in the trees
farmed and fished all over the Earth

I knew all Human Beings were one big Family
I could hear them in their stories, I saw paintings of them
in museums and pictures books, and I heard it said that
people of long ago were much Loved. I thought, just like Family

Even, with me living in Houston, Texas
in 1956, wearing a blue and white checked dress,
in the backyard, batting away mosquitos, watching my Dad
barbecue hamburgers, after picking wild blackberries

I knew I was descended from
Pharaohs, Rulers, Royal Kings and Queens,
Chiefs, Charioteers, and Saintly Warriors to name a few,
not separated by differences but only by Time

Give kids the good stuff and they will hold onto it.
I had one brother, five years older and too cool to play.
We moved a lot, like early civilizations, we migrated,
but I always took my ancient ancestors with me

I walked their cobblestones, burned their incense and candles,
conquered lands on back lots, walked with pride,
tried to greet strangers, looking familiar, but
my Mother pulled me back, surprised by my lack of boundaries

I guess that all the moves from city to city and state to state,
while taking away actual childhood friends, did in their place
give me progressive new teachers teaching from their heart,
expanding the universe in that way, teaching everything!

I was lucky to inherit an immense league of ancestors from so many
cultures and places in time in so many ways,
Now they are all a part of me, and have traveled with me a lifetime,
giving me a great sense of belonging. I am never alone.

though not me alone.
birds seed them as well,
adding a surprise or two
each year. i watch the buds
bloom open, the birds
return-sense home and
stare into my window
eyes and greet, hello, what’s
new? i’ll ask what color is
in favor now. this year they
say, oh, come taste the rare
blue. but i prefer the yellow
of sunflowers. my tastes
remain firm. and so
with every whiff of color
that drifts by, i close
my eyes and drink in its
sweet joy as free-flittering
hummingbirds, yellow-black
buzzes of bees return to soak
all in. occasionally, a cat or
two creeps through and
new chatter begins.

a newspaper
specifics
I thought of you
rarer currently, my thoughts
yet I’d like to explain all the happenings
as if you’d care
though I suppose you have shown interest
sometimes a story is simply blasé
unless it’s one’s life
and, well, then one feels it immensely

The blue skies
And warm temps
Invoke a cascade
Of memories;
Decades mingling, 
Each self
Remembered and integrated
Into the tapestry 
Of a life
Beautifully depicted.

birdless sky

Twelve years old,
Asked a question:

“Dad, what would you do if I was gay?”

“I’d kill you. 
That’s sick.
I’d disown you.”

The death of trust isn’t silent.
It sounds like tension and tires
rolling toward home.
But it lives behind the eyelids,
waiting for closing time, 
every single night.

Now alone in confusion,
brace for the years ahead, kid.

The moment I met you,
I knew you had lived.
Your life was different from the others,
as were mine.

I think you felt that too,
and we spoke about it,
when our eyes met.

Without saying a single word.

I felt your pain,
every moment you crossed my mind.
Until the day,
I could no longer feel you at all.

I wish you’d known how much they all loved you.
How much we all loved you.

I will keep you alive until the day I die.