I was still five years old when it was the worst
and I lay there in the dark afterward,
still and quiet, wanting to be somewhere else.
And I went to a place I’d never been.
A place clear and cool yet warm and still and in motion too.
And white,
not just white on the surface but white clear through
and it felt good to look at it
and good to be there.
It seemed like a cave,
with high white walls melding into the ceiling of solid white air,
like a mist made of rock, translucent.
I raised my hand to touch it,
knowing it was out of reach,
yet feeling it was near at hand.
I was standing on a rock ledge and I started to cry.
‘cause I was safe, I knew, he couldn’t get me here
but where I was I didn’t know.
I just knew it was a good place,
a safe place to cry.
God was here, everywhere.
This place was made of God,
I could almost see him moving in the mist rock.
I laid down and waited until I stopped crying
and my heart stopped pounding
and I could breathe without sobbing.
Too soon I knew it was time to go.
And then my leg was warm and shaking and a voice called my name
and I smelled the dust of the old church
and felt a hand on my leg and I was back.
I was back and someone told me to go home
and I never saw the old man again.
But his voice would play in the back of my mind for many years to come,
and I would visit the cool, clear, warm white place in my dreams knowing peace was there
and God.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Slip of Vision
A slip of vision and the world changes.
Heaven and hell on earth can be in the same place.
It’s all about learning to look at things
with the eyes you were born with
not the ones the world gave you.
Or is it me, or you.
I know I don’t see me the way that you do.
If you see me at all when we look at each other.
We see through the veil of our experiences.
Our minds have made up most of what we see
before we ever see it.
Perhaps my slip of vision is a way of getting to the truth.
Beyond self-imposed illusion,
beneath the mask of sanity,
perhaps lies something more real than what we see.
Our minds build up webs of logic
around what our senses give them.
Miracles are made into the stuff of the ordinary.
Abominations are turned into the commonplace.
Are you too beautiful for me to understand?
Is that why you seem so plain
and feel so extraordinary?
Is that why it’s the light in your eyes
that takes my breath away and not your body?
A slip of vision.
I’ve known demons
who looked like the people next door
most of the time.
‘Cause they were.
I saw them with their masks down, too
and they didn’t look the same.
I’ve seen angels that looked like the girl next door,
bouncy blonde hair and movie star smile,
and then with a wink of her eye
she’s gone.
Miracles and abominations
wrapped in the stuff of now
Heaven and hell on earth can be in the same place.
It’s all about learning to look at things
with the eyes you were born with
not the ones the world gave you.
Or is it me, or you.
I know I don’t see me the way that you do.
If you see me at all when we look at each other.
We see through the veil of our experiences.
Our minds have made up most of what we see
before we ever see it.
Perhaps my slip of vision is a way of getting to the truth.
Beyond self-imposed illusion,
beneath the mask of sanity,
perhaps lies something more real than what we see.
Our minds build up webs of logic
around what our senses give them.
Miracles are made into the stuff of the ordinary.
Abominations are turned into the commonplace.
Are you too beautiful for me to understand?
Is that why you seem so plain
and feel so extraordinary?
Is that why it’s the light in your eyes
that takes my breath away and not your body?
A slip of vision.
I’ve known demons
who looked like the people next door
most of the time.
‘Cause they were.
I saw them with their masks down, too
and they didn’t look the same.
I’ve seen angels that looked like the girl next door,
bouncy blonde hair and movie star smile,
and then with a wink of her eye
she’s gone.
Miracles and abominations
wrapped in the stuff of now
True Light
True Light
A light once came into the world,
created by the Father through the True Light.
This created light was beautiful and pure
and shone brightly for a time.
This light then met the darkness and the darkness overcame it
and the children of this light were in darkness for a long time.
The True Light then came into the world,
“the True Light which enlightens everyone”.
When the True Light met the darkness,
the darkness did not overcome it.
The True Light chose life
and earned freedom for the children of the light.
And those who came to Him
were able to return to the Father because of Him
“And the Word became flesh
and made his dwelling among us,
and we saw his glory,
the glory of the Father’s only Son,
full of grace and truth.”
A light once came into the world,
created by the Father through the True Light.
This created light was beautiful and pure
and shone brightly for a time.
This light then met the darkness and the darkness overcame it
and the children of this light were in darkness for a long time.
The True Light then came into the world,
“the True Light which enlightens everyone”.
When the True Light met the darkness,
the darkness did not overcome it.
The True Light chose life
and earned freedom for the children of the light.
And those who came to Him
were able to return to the Father because of Him
“And the Word became flesh
and made his dwelling among us,
and we saw his glory,
the glory of the Father’s only Son,
full of grace and truth.”
Sunday, January 6, 2008
I Asked
I asked
Is there love?
I have dreamed of love
For a very long time.
Reached out for it
And it slipped away.
Yet I went on dreaming.
Have I dreamed of you
Just these past few days
Or was it you I have been dreaming of
All my life?
How is it you have stepped
Into my life
And in a heartbeat filled me up?
How is it I seem to know you
Like no other
Without ever holding your hand?
Like you were a dream.
Did you appear out of nowhere
To capture my heart and soul,
Or have you been with me forever?
Excuse me if I seem confused,
You heart fits so neatly next to mine,
Our thoughts so often one,
It seems I must have known you
All my life.
But then I wouldn’t have been so lonely.
Was it you I looked for when
I was alone in the crowd?
Was it you I waited up for
All those nights I couldn’t sleep?
No matter, you are here now
And I am happy.
Whatever dreams you come from,
You are now very real
And there is love.
Is there love?
I have dreamed of love
For a very long time.
Reached out for it
And it slipped away.
Yet I went on dreaming.
Have I dreamed of you
Just these past few days
Or was it you I have been dreaming of
All my life?
How is it you have stepped
Into my life
And in a heartbeat filled me up?
How is it I seem to know you
Like no other
Without ever holding your hand?
Like you were a dream.
Did you appear out of nowhere
To capture my heart and soul,
Or have you been with me forever?
Excuse me if I seem confused,
You heart fits so neatly next to mine,
Our thoughts so often one,
It seems I must have known you
All my life.
But then I wouldn’t have been so lonely.
Was it you I looked for when
I was alone in the crowd?
Was it you I waited up for
All those nights I couldn’t sleep?
No matter, you are here now
And I am happy.
Whatever dreams you come from,
You are now very real
And there is love.
Me an' Reb's Jesus
Me ‘n Reb’s Jesus
They told me Rebel was half thoroughbred
but all I ever saw in him was quarter horse
and he was walking
that quarter horse walk now.
Clomping along, neck out,
head down, just like me,
neck out, head down,
we were quite a pair that day.
We were riding the ditch rider’s road
which didn’t really go nowhere
which was good
because that’s where we were going.
I could here the trickle of the little ditch
we were riding
and if it had been blue
instead of muddy brown things would have been perfect.
Because Rebel and me were blue.
You see Rebel and me had lost our best childhood friend today
and even though we hadn’t seen him
for going on four years we were still as blue as blue could be.
He’d changed a lot. He’d grew his hair and dropped out
and punched them damn needles in his arm until this morning
when they say he screamed Jesus! and his heart gave out
he was so high.
I have a feeling it wasn’t the same Jesus me and Reb talk to.
I heard a familiar sound and Rebel clomped to a stop
and I looked around at a place that should have been familiar.
But it wasn’t at first but then I remembered that hollow sound
I’d just heard and the weeds
that were a lot taller then
or so it seemed and yes,
this was the bridge over the canal on that last day
that we were best friends that last wonderful,
stupid day, four years ago.
Reb was four and I was thirteen
and Daniel said he was fourteen
but everybody knew he was fifteen
on account of getting kicked out of fourth grade
and having to repeat.
He was smallish, compact and solid and lithe
and there was not anything he could not do.
He was to prove that this day.
We were just messing around in the canal with Reb,
riding bareback in the three and a half foot deep water
and diving off his back and riding
up the side and sliding down his back
into the water when Daniel
got this gleam in his eye and looked at the bridge.
“You wait here,” he said
in a voice that was already half way
to completing some glorious stunt.
He took Rebel and disappeared for a minute
and then I heard Reb’s only smooth gait,
a ground-gobbling canter
that I loved in the evening
when the cool breeze caught my face.
As the pair topped the rise,
Daniel was just steadying himself on two feet
standing just ahead of Reb’s hind quarters
as he neared the bridge and with a slightly muffled,
“Geronimo!” he did a perfect cannonball
into the center of the pool on the
down stream side of the bridge.
A few feet to either side and
he’s dead meat on boulders,
too far out and he’s strained through gravel.
He pops up with a whoop and I nonchalantly say,
“Yeah, but can you catch the horse?”
“You know as well as I do, Marco Polo,
that that horse is too dumb to run away,”
and he just looked me in the eye grinning
and God knows I tried to keep a straight face
and I tried to stay cool but, but,...
I broke down. “Damn!” I finally exploded.
“That has got to be the bitchinest thing
I have ever seen in my life! I can’t believe it, it was perfect, and the Geronimo thing...Perfect!” “Ain’t it though! Damn that was good” Just then Rebel came up and nudged my elbow, “and you, you looked like Trigger or Traveler or Silver or something. Its like I hardly know my two best friends all of a sudden.” This was a bit of a faux paux in my social circle as one never actually admitted to having a best friend, it was too intimate a term. We blushed past the moment and then he said, “Your turn.”
I looked him straight in the eye and said “I wouldn’t do that on a tricycle, let alone a horse. You’ve got me on this one.” The rest of the day past mostly in awed reflection on the jump. He seemed to stay there all day, too, never come down.
He finally looked at me and said, “You’re never gonna make that jump, are you?”
“ I didn’t say that, matter of fact I probably will but I’m gonna practice the ride up first and work out the jump timing, you gotta remember, I’m younger, things come a little slower to me.”
“Its not that I’ve got some great power you don’t or that you’re afraid, is it?”
“I’d say mostly no on both though I am a little scared and you are a little awesome, man.”
“It was like, from the second I decided to do it, no from the second I thought of it, I knew it would be perfect, its like sometimes I get this power and its like, I can do anything.”
“I know, I see it in your eyes sometimes, usually its something crazy.”
“No, its something real, its something that I feel with my whole body and soul, like I’m on fire man.”
“Look, Daniel, this jump was really cool, and like, I’m gonna try it myself but its not like its some kind of religious experience, man. Its just an adrenaline rush, you’re a good athlete, high on adrenaline, its not some higher calling to be like Super Stunt man or a crash test dummy or something. Besides, you scare me, a few feet either way and you’d be jellyfish, man.”
“You just don’t understand!”
“ No, I think its you who don’t understand! You’re gonna mess around and get yourself killed and I’m gonna be stuck in this stinking town without you!”
Those were the last words we spoke as friends.
All there was after that were Howdy’s and ’cuse me’s.
I don’t think he ever cut his hair again
or bathed for that matter.
School was only an occasional pastime
and the drugs took over
when the adrenaline couldn’t do it any more.
I thought it my fault for a long time.
All of it, the broken friendship, the drugs, the diein’...
I looked up and saw that Rebel
Had again taken me where I needed to go.
The old woman’s house not far from the canal.
She had watched sixty years worth
of boys grow up from her laced windows,
though not many stopped and talked as I did.
The cookies were out and the ice tea in the glass
as I let myself in the back door.
She’d long since told me just to knock
and wait a few and come as she didn’t get about
like she used to.
Its my fault, you know, all of it.
ever since the jump in the pool.
It seems you are suddenly a very powerful person
especially for one so young.
No child, he made his own choices.
He was headed down that road anyway
It was you kept him off it for a long time
and offered him a better way to go
that he very well could have taken,
had he had the courage.
No it wasn’t your fault,
I knew his father and his father’s father
and wasn’t a fine bone in their bodies
and this one was looking the same until he met you.
Oh he was still wild but he wasn’t bad
and he wasn’t cruel and stayed away from the bottle.
For three full years I saw that boy grow
and I thunk just maybe he’d make it.
But when I saw you alone for so many days
I knew he had found a way
to excuse himself from your influence.
No child, Its not your fault he’s dead
matter of fact, you damn near saved him,
and maybe, just maybe you did.
Maybe it was you and Reb’s Jesus
he was screaming for this morning,
when his heart gave out.
They told me Rebel was half thoroughbred
but all I ever saw in him was quarter horse
and he was walking
that quarter horse walk now.
Clomping along, neck out,
head down, just like me,
neck out, head down,
we were quite a pair that day.
We were riding the ditch rider’s road
which didn’t really go nowhere
which was good
because that’s where we were going.
I could here the trickle of the little ditch
we were riding
and if it had been blue
instead of muddy brown things would have been perfect.
Because Rebel and me were blue.
You see Rebel and me had lost our best childhood friend today
and even though we hadn’t seen him
for going on four years we were still as blue as blue could be.
He’d changed a lot. He’d grew his hair and dropped out
and punched them damn needles in his arm until this morning
when they say he screamed Jesus! and his heart gave out
he was so high.
I have a feeling it wasn’t the same Jesus me and Reb talk to.
I heard a familiar sound and Rebel clomped to a stop
and I looked around at a place that should have been familiar.
But it wasn’t at first but then I remembered that hollow sound
I’d just heard and the weeds
that were a lot taller then
or so it seemed and yes,
this was the bridge over the canal on that last day
that we were best friends that last wonderful,
stupid day, four years ago.
Reb was four and I was thirteen
and Daniel said he was fourteen
but everybody knew he was fifteen
on account of getting kicked out of fourth grade
and having to repeat.
He was smallish, compact and solid and lithe
and there was not anything he could not do.
He was to prove that this day.
We were just messing around in the canal with Reb,
riding bareback in the three and a half foot deep water
and diving off his back and riding
up the side and sliding down his back
into the water when Daniel
got this gleam in his eye and looked at the bridge.
“You wait here,” he said
in a voice that was already half way
to completing some glorious stunt.
He took Rebel and disappeared for a minute
and then I heard Reb’s only smooth gait,
a ground-gobbling canter
that I loved in the evening
when the cool breeze caught my face.
As the pair topped the rise,
Daniel was just steadying himself on two feet
standing just ahead of Reb’s hind quarters
as he neared the bridge and with a slightly muffled,
“Geronimo!” he did a perfect cannonball
into the center of the pool on the
down stream side of the bridge.
A few feet to either side and
he’s dead meat on boulders,
too far out and he’s strained through gravel.
He pops up with a whoop and I nonchalantly say,
“Yeah, but can you catch the horse?”
“You know as well as I do, Marco Polo,
that that horse is too dumb to run away,”
and he just looked me in the eye grinning
and God knows I tried to keep a straight face
and I tried to stay cool but, but,...
I broke down. “Damn!” I finally exploded.
“That has got to be the bitchinest thing
I have ever seen in my life! I can’t believe it, it was perfect, and the Geronimo thing...Perfect!” “Ain’t it though! Damn that was good” Just then Rebel came up and nudged my elbow, “and you, you looked like Trigger or Traveler or Silver or something. Its like I hardly know my two best friends all of a sudden.” This was a bit of a faux paux in my social circle as one never actually admitted to having a best friend, it was too intimate a term. We blushed past the moment and then he said, “Your turn.”
I looked him straight in the eye and said “I wouldn’t do that on a tricycle, let alone a horse. You’ve got me on this one.” The rest of the day past mostly in awed reflection on the jump. He seemed to stay there all day, too, never come down.
He finally looked at me and said, “You’re never gonna make that jump, are you?”
“ I didn’t say that, matter of fact I probably will but I’m gonna practice the ride up first and work out the jump timing, you gotta remember, I’m younger, things come a little slower to me.”
“Its not that I’ve got some great power you don’t or that you’re afraid, is it?”
“I’d say mostly no on both though I am a little scared and you are a little awesome, man.”
“It was like, from the second I decided to do it, no from the second I thought of it, I knew it would be perfect, its like sometimes I get this power and its like, I can do anything.”
“I know, I see it in your eyes sometimes, usually its something crazy.”
“No, its something real, its something that I feel with my whole body and soul, like I’m on fire man.”
“Look, Daniel, this jump was really cool, and like, I’m gonna try it myself but its not like its some kind of religious experience, man. Its just an adrenaline rush, you’re a good athlete, high on adrenaline, its not some higher calling to be like Super Stunt man or a crash test dummy or something. Besides, you scare me, a few feet either way and you’d be jellyfish, man.”
“You just don’t understand!”
“ No, I think its you who don’t understand! You’re gonna mess around and get yourself killed and I’m gonna be stuck in this stinking town without you!”
Those were the last words we spoke as friends.
All there was after that were Howdy’s and ’cuse me’s.
I don’t think he ever cut his hair again
or bathed for that matter.
School was only an occasional pastime
and the drugs took over
when the adrenaline couldn’t do it any more.
I thought it my fault for a long time.
All of it, the broken friendship, the drugs, the diein’...
I looked up and saw that Rebel
Had again taken me where I needed to go.
The old woman’s house not far from the canal.
She had watched sixty years worth
of boys grow up from her laced windows,
though not many stopped and talked as I did.
The cookies were out and the ice tea in the glass
as I let myself in the back door.
She’d long since told me just to knock
and wait a few and come as she didn’t get about
like she used to.
Its my fault, you know, all of it.
ever since the jump in the pool.
It seems you are suddenly a very powerful person
especially for one so young.
No child, he made his own choices.
He was headed down that road anyway
It was you kept him off it for a long time
and offered him a better way to go
that he very well could have taken,
had he had the courage.
No it wasn’t your fault,
I knew his father and his father’s father
and wasn’t a fine bone in their bodies
and this one was looking the same until he met you.
Oh he was still wild but he wasn’t bad
and he wasn’t cruel and stayed away from the bottle.
For three full years I saw that boy grow
and I thunk just maybe he’d make it.
But when I saw you alone for so many days
I knew he had found a way
to excuse himself from your influence.
No child, Its not your fault he’s dead
matter of fact, you damn near saved him,
and maybe, just maybe you did.
Maybe it was you and Reb’s Jesus
he was screaming for this morning,
when his heart gave out.
Obssession
Somehow I gotta make it ok,
some way.
If I can just think it out,
figure a way
I can do it and make it work out.
So I don’t have to lie,
don’t have to steal,
don’t have to hide
myself.
How can I do it without the guilt,
the shame?
Without hurting anybody.
I can plan it, manage it,
make a place in my life for it.
A nice, neat compartment
I can walk right into,
do it,
and walk right out.
But it won’t fit and neither will I.
It gets ugly and spills out
into my world
and gets on my shoe
and in my face
and into my world
and I can’t keep it in any more.
Help.
I’m walkin’, runnin’, drivin’ around,
bursting at the seams.
No satisfaction, no pride, no peace.
I love it, I hate it.
It smiles at me
but inside it hates me, too.
‘Cause it hurts me when I do what it says.
It says this will feel good, you’ll love it.
And it does and I do.
Oh Lord, but then it’s over.
Satisfaction is short
disgust is brief
but guilt and shame last forever.
It follows me out the door
and all over town
whispering in my ear-
Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha again.
Lord, why? Why does it feel so good
and treat me so bad.
It feels like it’s always been there.
It seems I dreamed about it when I was little.
Sometimes I kid myself you gave it to me.
A gift, something to get me through.
Why else can’t I help it?
Why else would it come bustin’ out of me
when I don’t give it no attention?
“It’s good to do it, express it.
It’s part of my inmost being”
Yeah, Right.
But damn, why does it feel so good?
For that little while
and why do I want to go back to it
when it only drags me down
and lets loose all my demons?
Every shameful thing
buried in my mind cellar flys out.
I told it not to let that stuff out.
All I want is it.
But noooo.
All this other shit comes flappin’ out, too.
Now, I just got to do it right.
Do it clean, do it gentle,
do it sweet, do it middle class lovely
and heart to heart.
And all the bad stuff will stay away
and I ‘ll have it all to my self.
and nobody will get hurt.
But somehow somebody always does,
or thats what they tell me.
Funny, that the one thing
that seems to make the hurt go away for a while
is the one thing that everybody says I shouldn’t do.
Frankly, I’m not entirely convinced it hurts me,
but I’m now fully aware it hurts those who love me,
and bothers the hell out of everyone else.
Directly or indirectly, eventually someone gets hurt.
That makes it my responsibility to do damage control,
which means I just don’t do it.
Because my God says quite simply,
do not do things that hurt other people.
There is no way out of this one.
You do it, someone gets hurt,
so you don’t do it.
Even if you think its your destiny,
or a blessing in disguise
even if its the only thing you seem to live for sometimes,
the only thing that makes that ache in your heart go away,
you don’t do it
because it hurts other people.
and if you are really gonna be honest,
you know it hurts you, too
and the reason you say it doesn’t is
you just don’t give a damn if it hurts you,
but let me clue you, you are someone, too.
There are at least two someones getting hurt,
You, and the someone who cares about you.
And don’t give me that, “Nobody loves me” bullshit.
Nobody is so special that they have no one that cares,
everyone gets hung with somebody who cares, its a fact of life.
Now, this caring may or may not be real apparent or useful but
I guarantee there will be someone hurting if you fall.
And fall you will, unless you accept love, accept help,
forget about luck and fate and count on love and God.
Somebody is gonna love you whether you accept it or not,
might as well enjoy it.
And you know I don’t mean sex.
Two human beings caring for each other,
whatever gender they may be.
So close the closet door on your obsession,
lock it in and don’t look back.
Look for help instead,
station someone at the closet door to turn you away
when you come looking for sorrow to ease your pain.
Keep company with hardy folk,
or at least those who know you well enough,
to turn you round when needed.
Perhaps keep in mind how often you’ve failed.
so you won’t get yourself in too deep.
Safety is not always found in numbers,
our peers are sometimes incredibly dangerous,
and one is not always a lonely number.
Always have one phone number you can call
to get help when you’re in a jam.
And remember, if it hurts someone,
don’t do it.
some way.
If I can just think it out,
figure a way
I can do it and make it work out.
So I don’t have to lie,
don’t have to steal,
don’t have to hide
myself.
How can I do it without the guilt,
the shame?
Without hurting anybody.
I can plan it, manage it,
make a place in my life for it.
A nice, neat compartment
I can walk right into,
do it,
and walk right out.
But it won’t fit and neither will I.
It gets ugly and spills out
into my world
and gets on my shoe
and in my face
and into my world
and I can’t keep it in any more.
Help.
I’m walkin’, runnin’, drivin’ around,
bursting at the seams.
No satisfaction, no pride, no peace.
I love it, I hate it.
It smiles at me
but inside it hates me, too.
‘Cause it hurts me when I do what it says.
It says this will feel good, you’ll love it.
And it does and I do.
Oh Lord, but then it’s over.
Satisfaction is short
disgust is brief
but guilt and shame last forever.
It follows me out the door
and all over town
whispering in my ear-
Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha again.
Lord, why? Why does it feel so good
and treat me so bad.
It feels like it’s always been there.
It seems I dreamed about it when I was little.
Sometimes I kid myself you gave it to me.
A gift, something to get me through.
Why else can’t I help it?
Why else would it come bustin’ out of me
when I don’t give it no attention?
“It’s good to do it, express it.
It’s part of my inmost being”
Yeah, Right.
But damn, why does it feel so good?
For that little while
and why do I want to go back to it
when it only drags me down
and lets loose all my demons?
Every shameful thing
buried in my mind cellar flys out.
I told it not to let that stuff out.
All I want is it.
But noooo.
All this other shit comes flappin’ out, too.
Now, I just got to do it right.
Do it clean, do it gentle,
do it sweet, do it middle class lovely
and heart to heart.
And all the bad stuff will stay away
and I ‘ll have it all to my self.
and nobody will get hurt.
But somehow somebody always does,
or thats what they tell me.
Funny, that the one thing
that seems to make the hurt go away for a while
is the one thing that everybody says I shouldn’t do.
Frankly, I’m not entirely convinced it hurts me,
but I’m now fully aware it hurts those who love me,
and bothers the hell out of everyone else.
Directly or indirectly, eventually someone gets hurt.
That makes it my responsibility to do damage control,
which means I just don’t do it.
Because my God says quite simply,
do not do things that hurt other people.
There is no way out of this one.
You do it, someone gets hurt,
so you don’t do it.
Even if you think its your destiny,
or a blessing in disguise
even if its the only thing you seem to live for sometimes,
the only thing that makes that ache in your heart go away,
you don’t do it
because it hurts other people.
and if you are really gonna be honest,
you know it hurts you, too
and the reason you say it doesn’t is
you just don’t give a damn if it hurts you,
but let me clue you, you are someone, too.
There are at least two someones getting hurt,
You, and the someone who cares about you.
And don’t give me that, “Nobody loves me” bullshit.
Nobody is so special that they have no one that cares,
everyone gets hung with somebody who cares, its a fact of life.
Now, this caring may or may not be real apparent or useful but
I guarantee there will be someone hurting if you fall.
And fall you will, unless you accept love, accept help,
forget about luck and fate and count on love and God.
Somebody is gonna love you whether you accept it or not,
might as well enjoy it.
And you know I don’t mean sex.
Two human beings caring for each other,
whatever gender they may be.
So close the closet door on your obsession,
lock it in and don’t look back.
Look for help instead,
station someone at the closet door to turn you away
when you come looking for sorrow to ease your pain.
Keep company with hardy folk,
or at least those who know you well enough,
to turn you round when needed.
Perhaps keep in mind how often you’ve failed.
so you won’t get yourself in too deep.
Safety is not always found in numbers,
our peers are sometimes incredibly dangerous,
and one is not always a lonely number.
Always have one phone number you can call
to get help when you’re in a jam.
And remember, if it hurts someone,
don’t do it.
Air
The following is a poem I wrote to my ex wife, about six years before she was my ex, when things first started going bad, when my condition first started effecting our marriage. I took her to a nice little spot we both liked and gave it to her to read. She was untouched, just said, “Yeah, you haven’t talked much lately.” She is very concrete, was looking for more than just words on a page, she wanted to see actions, results. I was crushed, and discouraged, seeing that we were so far apart, that this labor of love of mine was the best I could do, and it wasn’t enough. I was already doing the best I could. I would say the most important thing in a marriage is to truly listen, be present with your whole self, and respond. In a word, Therese, compassion.
AIR
Tender lays me down on the mountainside.
Takes me kindly and well in the trees.
Loves me lightly and holds me quietly by the waters edge.
Let me dream of you and me far from here
in a world of water and wood and sky.
I’ll light a quick and noisy little fire
In the crisp and brittle morning air
so clean it rings with clarity
like a newly struck bell.
Gentle, fresh and strikingly new each morning.
This mountain morning air,
the breathe of God,
so clear its almost not there
yet is everywhere, present at all times
in clean and startlingly gentle power.
It is defined as much by what it is not
as by what it is.
Not heavy, not close, not stifling damp.
Not pressing with intent
nor crowded with memories.
So clear it is not there.
It doesn’t fill you too full,
too soon when you breathe,
nor does it leave you empty.
This mountain morning air,
sometimes so cold and crisp
it hurts going in,
then makes a strange warmth in your chest
as you draw on its healing power,
then let go in that moist, lingering cloud.
It invites you to draw deeply and often
and leaves you feeling new.
I have loved you long but not too well.
and you have been there patient, tolerant, true.
Let me begin fresh.
Let me draw deep and long
of His breath and hold Him within me
and let go of all the rest in a cloud.
And I shall be clean and clear,
not full, not pressing,
not chased or bent by memory.
Present at all times
yet so light and true and aware
that I shall hardly seem to be there at all
when presence is not what we need.
Let me be rid of the pain,
and the weight,
and the voices.
May I find focus
and discipline
and peace.
And maybe we’ll talk.
and maybe it will matter
that I worked so hard
and things will be better.
I’m just so wore out all the time.
There’s so much going on in my head,
a plump, pubescent boy
who wants more than anything to be a girl
and a skinny, angry teenager
who wants more than anything
to strike out and self destruct
and it seems almost impossible
to talk to you about it.
I’m always afraid of the way
you’ll respond to what I say.
I don’t know if you believe me sometimes
I feel angry a lot these days.
Not buried deep like it used to be
but right near the surface.
I know i’ve been a jerk sometimes.
It takes energy for me to be a good husband,
a good person, and I don’t have much energy right now.
I can’t tell you
just what’s wrong,
I can’t seem to see it or feel it
Perhaps it is like the air,
in me around me,
part of me.
Maybe I carry it with me all the time
and can go nowhere without it.
I seem to have gone nowhere with it, so far.
And I will lightly lay you down
in earshot of the creek,
in newly sprouted eel grass,
in the sand beyond the brush.
On a blanket smelling strongly of grandchildren.
I will kiss your lips so tenderly
you might reach out with yours.
And will touch you once again
with fluid passion fearlessly.
And I will be there gently
clean, clear, true and cool.
And you will be there deeply true,
gentle as always,
clean, clear, true, and warm.
and I will be there...
and I will be there...
and I will be there.
As you might suspect I am an insecure, self centered person desparate for praise and validation. A frustrated, undisciplined writer, unable to focus enough to put it all to gether. I am often ruled by my dysfunction and beat myself up often. by turns arrogant and self abusive. But I am at times peaceful these days because I have found that God truly does love me and if I really work at being mindful of him, I function and feel so much better. It is not in asking him to be with me, for he always is (yet I still beg him to be) it is in my removing the barriers I place between He and I. Arrogance and self centeredness destroyed my marriage more than my wife's not understanding or apreciating me. I would say to all looking for a way to make a better marriage, lay out your heart to your mate, risk being rejected, you will probably be wonderfully surprised at what happens, Be subordinate to one another, which is what Paul really says (Ephesians), serve one another, which is what Jesus says. Out do one another in showing honor (Paul, Romans), and "over all these, put on love, the bond of perfection."
(Col 3:14, truly Pauline), and 1 Coronthians 13 is still a beautiful hymn to love,no matter its psychological origins, and to say "do as I say, not as I do", is an archaic understanding of the church, pre Vatican II, not at all in keeping with the church I have come to know and love in the past 20 years. Love is patient, love is kind, love is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests...It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails. How can this be wrong? Love is of God. the love Paul trys to desribe, be it based on his faults or not, it is love. Is it not what we all seek? Sadly, unconditional love is only possible for God, for the trinity, we seem always to screw it up, sooner or later, but the kind of love Paul describes understands this, and still loves. Be nice to one another, Isn't that the first thing we are taught when we step out into the world, play nice?
AIR
Tender lays me down on the mountainside.
Takes me kindly and well in the trees.
Loves me lightly and holds me quietly by the waters edge.
Let me dream of you and me far from here
in a world of water and wood and sky.
I’ll light a quick and noisy little fire
In the crisp and brittle morning air
so clean it rings with clarity
like a newly struck bell.
Gentle, fresh and strikingly new each morning.
This mountain morning air,
the breathe of God,
so clear its almost not there
yet is everywhere, present at all times
in clean and startlingly gentle power.
It is defined as much by what it is not
as by what it is.
Not heavy, not close, not stifling damp.
Not pressing with intent
nor crowded with memories.
So clear it is not there.
It doesn’t fill you too full,
too soon when you breathe,
nor does it leave you empty.
This mountain morning air,
sometimes so cold and crisp
it hurts going in,
then makes a strange warmth in your chest
as you draw on its healing power,
then let go in that moist, lingering cloud.
It invites you to draw deeply and often
and leaves you feeling new.
I have loved you long but not too well.
and you have been there patient, tolerant, true.
Let me begin fresh.
Let me draw deep and long
of His breath and hold Him within me
and let go of all the rest in a cloud.
And I shall be clean and clear,
not full, not pressing,
not chased or bent by memory.
Present at all times
yet so light and true and aware
that I shall hardly seem to be there at all
when presence is not what we need.
Let me be rid of the pain,
and the weight,
and the voices.
May I find focus
and discipline
and peace.
And maybe we’ll talk.
and maybe it will matter
that I worked so hard
and things will be better.
I’m just so wore out all the time.
There’s so much going on in my head,
a plump, pubescent boy
who wants more than anything to be a girl
and a skinny, angry teenager
who wants more than anything
to strike out and self destruct
and it seems almost impossible
to talk to you about it.
I’m always afraid of the way
you’ll respond to what I say.
I don’t know if you believe me sometimes
I feel angry a lot these days.
Not buried deep like it used to be
but right near the surface.
I know i’ve been a jerk sometimes.
It takes energy for me to be a good husband,
a good person, and I don’t have much energy right now.
I can’t tell you
just what’s wrong,
I can’t seem to see it or feel it
Perhaps it is like the air,
in me around me,
part of me.
Maybe I carry it with me all the time
and can go nowhere without it.
I seem to have gone nowhere with it, so far.
And I will lightly lay you down
in earshot of the creek,
in newly sprouted eel grass,
in the sand beyond the brush.
On a blanket smelling strongly of grandchildren.
I will kiss your lips so tenderly
you might reach out with yours.
And will touch you once again
with fluid passion fearlessly.
And I will be there gently
clean, clear, true and cool.
And you will be there deeply true,
gentle as always,
clean, clear, true, and warm.
and I will be there...
and I will be there...
and I will be there.
As you might suspect I am an insecure, self centered person desparate for praise and validation. A frustrated, undisciplined writer, unable to focus enough to put it all to gether. I am often ruled by my dysfunction and beat myself up often. by turns arrogant and self abusive. But I am at times peaceful these days because I have found that God truly does love me and if I really work at being mindful of him, I function and feel so much better. It is not in asking him to be with me, for he always is (yet I still beg him to be) it is in my removing the barriers I place between He and I. Arrogance and self centeredness destroyed my marriage more than my wife's not understanding or apreciating me. I would say to all looking for a way to make a better marriage, lay out your heart to your mate, risk being rejected, you will probably be wonderfully surprised at what happens, Be subordinate to one another, which is what Paul really says (Ephesians), serve one another, which is what Jesus says. Out do one another in showing honor (Paul, Romans), and "over all these, put on love, the bond of perfection."
(Col 3:14, truly Pauline), and 1 Coronthians 13 is still a beautiful hymn to love,no matter its psychological origins, and to say "do as I say, not as I do", is an archaic understanding of the church, pre Vatican II, not at all in keeping with the church I have come to know and love in the past 20 years. Love is patient, love is kind, love is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests...It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails. How can this be wrong? Love is of God. the love Paul trys to desribe, be it based on his faults or not, it is love. Is it not what we all seek? Sadly, unconditional love is only possible for God, for the trinity, we seem always to screw it up, sooner or later, but the kind of love Paul describes understands this, and still loves. Be nice to one another, Isn't that the first thing we are taught when we step out into the world, play nice?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)