Does time really make things better? No, but time provides a perspective that allows healing. I am doing well, settling into my new routine. Silas is on his way to us again. I write this to just note the date. December 05, 2012
December 16, 2012\\Silas is on the Greyhound in route to Chicago. # days of testing and orentation.. Maybe he will get a job offer
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Monday, November 26, 2012
Poetry
you cross my mind like a black cat
and I watch you gaze down the empty street.
Can you
feel me smiling in the darkness?
Can you?
Lovely Weekend
Nice to write something positive for a change. Just back from a lovely weekend visiting Jim and his crew down in Owensboro. Enjoyed hearing him play and seeing everyone! I was presented with a wonderful shadow box commemorating our trip to Las Vegas, Bryce Canyon, Death Valley, Zion National Park. How very special this gift was.
Now back into things again. Need to unpack and clean from the "putting of Christmas". The boxes are all over and we still have no lit up anything. I wonder what we were thinking
Now back into things again. Need to unpack and clean from the "putting of Christmas". The boxes are all over and we still have no lit up anything. I wonder what we were thinking
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Acceptance
story starts
it was all about acceptance, she thought. but then again, no. It was about never being quite good enough. She had not thought of these things in many years and now in the darkness of the room she\let them come back and while her fingers groped to type correctly. Never quite good enough. She was good enough most days but then sometimes he let his true thoughts slip out.
That is the difference in what he says and what he really thinks. He is kind and means no hurt ever. The love is there. It is true and she never doubts that.
Never good enough, The thought hung in the room sucking up the air.
She had perfected the cry, she said once. It was all in the breathing. Let the sadness out in slow, measured breaths. Yes, she had not forgotten the technique.
it was all about acceptance, she thought. but then again, no. It was about never being quite good enough. She had not thought of these things in many years and now in the darkness of the room she\let them come back and while her fingers groped to type correctly. Never quite good enough. She was good enough most days but then sometimes he let his true thoughts slip out.
That is the difference in what he says and what he really thinks. He is kind and means no hurt ever. The love is there. It is true and she never doubts that.
Never good enough, The thought hung in the room sucking up the air.
She had perfected the cry, she said once. It was all in the breathing. Let the sadness out in slow, measured breaths. Yes, she had not forgotten the technique.
Thank You, Andrew
Thank You , Andrew
When I was at the Dr last week, a
solider came in. He was dressed in camo, boots, GI hair cut. He
signed the registry book and then took the only seat left- next to
me. The medication bottles in his leg pocket bulged and rattled
together as he sat down. I remember thinking that he probably had as
many bottles as I did.
I studied him a moment and then said,
“Sir, may I shake your hand and say thank you?”
His handshake was firm, his eyes gazed
directly into mine.
“No. Thank you,” He said.
“I appreciate that more than you
know.”
His eyes told the story. I sat
thinking about all the sights those eyes must have seen comparing
them to the mundane ordinary sights that filled my world.
“Thank you”, seemed such a small
word.
“Andrew.”
I watched him rise and disappear
through the door toward the exam rooms.
“Thanks again, Adrew,” my heart
whispered.
“May God keep you safe.”
DJL
10/24/12
News
No news of my friend, save that he is still in surgical ICU.
I am no longer in the communication loop. The sharpness of her words will cut me over again into tiny pieces if I should allow it, He is out of my reach. It will soon be five months. I send my thoughts and prayers to him through the crisp bite of morning and through the silent darkness of night. It is enough to know he is still in this world of the living.
Midnight
Finger Play
waiting for sleep
my fingers accept the challenge. remember where the keys are .the room is quiet, no sounds of geese or ducks quaking in the night, no sounds of a far away train rumbling its way along, different sounds for a different place.
i have no news. i have been cut off and tossed aside like rubbish that is so easily discarded
i am reduced to haunting obituaries, seeking yet hoping not to find.
how can this be and how has this come to pass. some time someone will ask this and i will answer, I don't know
my fingers remember in the dark. I have often found solace in words, but there is none to be found this night.
so the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog and the dog lay still as a stone and did not bat an eyelash because he was indeed a very lazy dog.
are you still in the land of the living
do you breath your breath in and out in carefully measured puffs
can you sense my thoughts so far away
some one said I am grieving and it must be so and I hope to speak with you of these things if not here then in the land that lies beyond
I am no longer in the communication loop. The sharpness of her words will cut me over again into tiny pieces if I should allow it, He is out of my reach. It will soon be five months. I send my thoughts and prayers to him through the crisp bite of morning and through the silent darkness of night. It is enough to know he is still in this world of the living.
Midnight
Finger Play
waiting for sleep
my fingers accept the challenge. remember where the keys are .the room is quiet, no sounds of geese or ducks quaking in the night, no sounds of a far away train rumbling its way along, different sounds for a different place.
i have no news. i have been cut off and tossed aside like rubbish that is so easily discarded
i am reduced to haunting obituaries, seeking yet hoping not to find.
how can this be and how has this come to pass. some time someone will ask this and i will answer, I don't know
my fingers remember in the dark. I have often found solace in words, but there is none to be found this night.
so the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog and the dog lay still as a stone and did not bat an eyelash because he was indeed a very lazy dog.
are you still in the land of the living
do you breath your breath in and out in carefully measured puffs
can you sense my thoughts so far away
some one said I am grieving and it must be so and I hope to speak with you of these things if not here then in the land that lies beyond
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
For Bubbah
For Bubbah
Your silence is hard
Are the years too heavy
And the distance too great
for you
to hear
Your silence is hard
Are the years too heavy
And the distance too great
for you
to hear
me
calling in the night?
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
"I Heard a Harbinger!"
Once upon a time, this lady decided that she was somehow in competition with me. I didn't understand it then and certainly don't now and it's been many years. She is no longer my friend and caused me a great hurt but that is of no matter.
It was in early spring and I posted somewhere or another this: "I heard a harbinger." To my amusement, she searched high and low apparently for this illusive harbinger. In order, no doubt to find more and interesting info to present. Failing, she finally asked me.
"Cheeer! Cheeeer!" I give you The Harbinger of Spring- Mr Robin Red-Breast!.
Later, I met another "Harbinger" who has become a trusted, loyal and dear friend. :)
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
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