The name is
perhaps in my memories
from a poem, a book, a saying.
I run out the door slipping on boots as I go
not to miss the colors i can see changing through the window
out into the field i see them
It must looks somewhat the same
all eyes upon it in another place.
Sun setting on one side
moon rising on the other
red and orange pink and Fuchsia
blue and violet
the white moon comes out of hiding
a blushing virgin
all in the dusky October sky of promises
wish i was the perfect grandmother who never angers
who can ignore the stairs that the small child might fall down
or the door she might crush a finger in
wish i could get the vision out of my head of the window someone left opened
on the third floor, that the 3 year old had come up on
when the gate was down.
what if ??
but no, it didn’t
so stop worrying
be quiet old woman
be the sweet grandma in the corner, rocking
yes may I
What is a Father?
anyone with the capacity to love .
There are good and bad fathers
some that scold some that hold
some do both
it’s a complicated thing.
My father once said” anyone can make a baby”
well, that’s not entirely true, some couples struggle. but i knew what he meant.
My father died when I was 22. Just when we were beginning to look at each other differently
he wallpapered my firstborns room. .
He barely got to know her. But the paper brought many smiles.
Little yellow and orange animals, very early 70’s.
What really makes a father?
My children lost their father at 2 1/2 and 6
One of saddest things I’ve ever had to tell someone
was telling my 6 yr old her daddy was really gone.
Five years later I met another man, a good man,one I hoped would love my children.
He has, he does, but they do not call him Dad.
I don’t know why really, it just never happened.
He has a son, from a prior marriage, maybe that’s why?
and should it really matter?
So what’s in the word, the name?
Does he nurture and care, is he there for advice and help?
Help of so many kinds, especially as they are all adults now.
The answer has always been yes.
Again my musing gives me the answers I seek.
His blood may not run through them
and they may not call him Dad
but I am forever thankful and grateful
he’s the best we ever had.
Happy Father’s Day to all who love and give love to children
for that’s all it really takes.
what a beautiful backdrop for the author, my daughter’s song. One Heart
She is sharing her message at libraries and book stores now. She hopes to do school visits too, spreading her love.
I am sharing the following post written by my cousin, you can find the original here. An uplifting song written and sung by her daughter (and her band Iridesense) She writes; One Heart is all about diversity, and acceptance. It explores the reality of our differences. We all look differently on the outside. Different hair color, skin color, eye color. We even like different things. That’s not what’s most important. If you look at who we truly are, at our core, we are all the same. We need to spread this message to children, and to the world. Especially now when everyone is taking sides. Politically, religiously, etc. We are a multicultural world. Our differences on the outside make us unique, but our hearts need to be unified. One heart. It is also being made into an illustrated book for children.
I have used some of my photos as…
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wearing a warm robe in a cool back room
is my present reality
only words on this page have meaning
not the ones in my head
that I rehearse
to countless perpetrators
of countless wrongs
that never happened
i want to believe in
out with the old in with the new
sometimes the old was better
memories cannot be erased
I have tried
and it does not work
July means so many things
from long lost loves
to diamond rings
from baby born
and baby unborn
sad secrets of
the lost forlorn
who wander still
throughout the meadows
of the night
the butterflies will dance through days
with slowed breathing
till silence speaks
which way which way
to go today
what date is it
for that will be
days mean for me..
They had her strip to bare her chest
She lay upon a table
The lights were bright
Her pulse was racing
Too much too soon
sheer panic when two women stood above
To rub and cleanse her
The cuff so tight upon her arm
Their faces stern and cold as ice
While gluing leads upon her chest
Which heaved while her pulse was racing
Don’t touch me please.
Cover me please.
Help me please.
Let me up.
Let me go.
You don’t know
That my mind is back when I was vulnerable
In every dream I cannot run
In every room without a door
In every corner, every basement, on every floor
“We cannot do the test my dear
Your pressure up it’s very clear
You must be stressed
Not on my life
would I agree
for such humiliation
of that degree..