He called his older and baby sister home

Leukemia fought back and forth now it came to claim the soul those I cherish most on this earth were to
Be consumed at the deepest depths of the caldron but friend you see I know someone he faced death
Most cruelest blows and was victories so being human and facing pain and sorrow at such heights I ran
To the only place I knew back to the motel in California where he flooded our room with such peace we
Only stopped for the night to break up the drive from LA back to San Francisco the bay area it was
Christmas but we never made it home who can leave when the very air you breathe is saturated with
Love and a peace you have never known before at the time I didn’t know my only sister had died but He
Knew so I prayed that for this situation but they always say God is not limited so he did move in their
Pain my wife the older sister with his next to older sister and her daughter were in the bedroom by his
Side when he peacefully passed the doctor warned that in some cases this disease at death will cause
The person to bleed out every ounce of blood God spared us from that horror he only dropped his
Shoulder and with a couple of puffs of air he was gone and God helped my wife in this way one of the
Books I read to her to get her to sleep is Oma she is a united Pentecostal preacher her story is one of
Terrible hardship after being filled with the Holy Ghost speaking in tongues that is biblical way of
Salvation her husband an unbeliever tried to **** her three times and seemingly even more cruel he and
His mother conspired together and took her five children and one was a nursing baby but she stayed
True to God and her ministry grew and flourished the bible says God is a ever present help in the time of
Trouble and her prayer and mine was help us Lord for we are troubled he sustained Oma and new babies
Born into God’s kingdom through her ministry became her children so God dropped this thought in my
Wife’s heart she said she felt like Oma when her brother died it was right it was strong it held while the
Storm of death was trying to flatten her the next to the oldest sister the one with her daughters and
Husband bore the brunt of this two year battle pressed crushed grinded by what was happening to her
Brother my heart bled most for her God poured in the love from the unseen and laughter is like a
Medicine he supplied that in quaintest portions God uses clowns to bring relief to pain first you have to
Go down in that valley be torn apart then you are given still that which you lack to enter such sacred
Ground and add the antidote that will guard and protect those that God cares to comfort it was great to
Learn although Joe wasn’t a priest in the spiritual sense he was an uncommon one in the human sense
The words of his friends that streamed in told that story and his best friend the next to the oldest
Daughter’s husband capped it when he spoke for the family someone special lived among us and now
Was gone but he will live in each new day bring those same gifts he shared he didn’t have a lot but it
Was All yours if you needed it thats quiet a life in any body’s book I said it before and I will say it again
Farewell Prince a kingdom you now have found

Bounced

a mother figure
to two, a name
on a Christmas card
to four

when I realised
I was still a
child

and bitterness
wasn't an
option

I grew up
like a broken
nose

out of joint

Bounced

at the service
there are tears
beside me

I imagine a
body burning
and feel
warm

the lick of flames
on gray skin

my indifference
grows like I
imagine the
fire roaring

behind the curtain

heating up

Bounced

the house is
empty and
smells

unusual

like something has
been left in there
too long

they are not
there now but
it lingers

I tried to take
her dresses but
she was thinner
as a girl than
I am now

jealously

is a feeling
I'm familiar with

and it's easier
to understand

Bounced

we are waiting
for a buyer

and I imagine
how it feels
to have a piece
of your heart
trapped in bricks
and mortar

Bounced

one time,
I wanted to ask her
how it felt to
take notes of
the war

if she'd ever thought
of waving a white
flag and crumbling

drowning in the
rubble rain of
The Blitz

I wanted to hear
her say something
human

so I could
visualise and
see a bit of
her in myself

Bounced

I'm still caught up
on the autopsy
like a piece of
fatty tissue on
a scalapal

and my thoughts
are metal and
cold

the number of
zeroes on a
cheque

Bounced

Dove dark chocolate
Black coffee with almond biscotti
Raspberries and Engstrom almond toffee
Oma I miss you
I’ll see you in 80 years, or so
Have a cup of mint tea for me


Rosemary and Malbec
Ginger snaps and lavender
Grandma why does my dorm room
Smell like old memories of you


I think I left my sunglasses on the dining room table
The last place I saw you
Dyed blond hair, gold necklace, and your sweet soft smile
You gave me your blue jacket
Perriwinkle blue raincoat
Oma it’s raining
I’m making you tea
Dove, deliver it safely to the clouds above me

Awe

Golden grain lies scattered about on a stonework floor out of place in the sacristy and that is the
Travesty Among holy vestments there is evidence of the slightest presence of the treasure that brought

This Meager amount just one godly person and that was only by accident on shoes that hurried past the
Harvest field from these prostrate seeds a silent cry is haunting every day and night a holocaust is taking

Place anew death it did strew among the whole of life depicted by a child’s dream it occurred when she
Was only twelve and at eighty six it was as vivid as it happened yesterday I let her tell you in her own

Words “at this point in my dream I found myself on a very narrow path it was so narrow I had to lift one
Foot slowly and place it exactly in front of the other foot or I would lose my balance how carefully I had

To walk I exercised even greater caution when I realized that the narrow walkway spanned a very deep
Chasm an abyss filled with great billowing waves of flame more terrifying than the sight of the flames

Was the realization that people were being tossed about in that raging infernal their screams of anguish
Were so freighting that I wanted to rush away from these sights and sounds of horror my fear of missing

A step on that narrow path and falling into that horrible pit made my progress slow and agonizing then
Out of that nightmare of screaming anguish came the unmistakable voice of somebody calling my name

Oma a familiar voice pleaded Oma go warn your father and my brethren to never come to this place
I am In Hell” she subsequently found out that this man who spoke was a fellow preacher in her father’s

Religion that had ***** a young woman and had been sent to prison and then died there but from this
Dream in the coming years she became a minister of the gospel a work she continued for well over

Fifty years and she stated that dream of hell was an ever driving force to reach the lost yes a genocide
Of people of uncommon value sun drenched fragrant is the fields that glistens nowhere in all of

Existence does any treasure compare to you and me the bleating of the sheep of his pasture rises
Through air and misty clouds carried most softly and deepened by the quantity of distress from sheep
That is the most helpless of creatures thus the need of Sheppard’s and labors to enter these golden

Fields nothing must be missed but we are losing a generation while the greatest church buildings
Compass the land without question richness pervades within every detail is complete fashionable

To a fault the pews numerous enough but emptiness carries the stamp your duty you are failing
When the riches of family and friends are missing out on being fed heavens sacred bread nothing

Else can and will sustain real life all else is illusion a spell that cloaks the sight of people in richest
Clothing that are no more than starved prisoners of a total war against humanity they blissfully

Parade on they can’t see the front of the procession in the far distance as it passes through the Gate of
Hell that glows and melts the screams within that touch it then sizzles keeping it secret and warning

Hidden from the dammed that are marching to their doom but oh the sacristy holds such wondrous
Items as vestments and other church furnishings and sacred vessels and parish records but as you open

The door you are blasted with the cold reality only a precious few enjoy their value and comfort a
Mocking laughter is heard as the devil throws his head back with contempt and laughs even harder

As he drives the multitude to the end that was supposed to be his and his demons end all through
History the travail of mans plight has shaken a few from compliancy the robe of righteousness never

Hangs in cloistered suffocating gloom no as Wesley and George Whitfield they went out into the open
Fields and brought heaven down as a thunder clap that shook England to its evil core where gin was

So prevalent it reached from the poorest hovel through the church and into the palace where many
Enemies evaded and were driven back but this enemy was an inner demon that only God could over

Throw this is a picture of how as these faithful men lifted the cross and its Holy standard high and
As there proclamation reached a high crescendo the low laborers came out of mine pits stood there and

As the spirit mystified them with loves deepest truths there tears made tracks down through their cold
Dust covered faces these vestments are the true and lasting outwear that indicates the brimming soul

Within shall ever be free

This is what I meant to write in the car Sunday night but I was overwhelmed and only tried to fix pain

And sorrow with the beauty of a child and its birth only one child can do that and He was born in a manger

Verse 1

I look in, your room, thinking that I would see.
You there, in your bed, sitting up, and watching TV.
It’s still strange, at times.
When I walk in this room.
‘Cause it’s changed, a lot, since the day, you left.
And now, I think, it’s time, for me, to say.
That I, still wish, you were here.


Bridge

Cause you left me way too soon.
Going on is so hard without you.
I dream about you at night.
I still think about you all the time.
Why did you have to go?
Why did you give up on hope?
I know you missed him,
but now I have to miss you too.

Chorus

It’s not fair!
That you had to leave.
And now I’ll never see your face.
How did that seem, like the right thing to do?
Cause it’s been so hard here.
Without you.


Verse 2

I still, remember, that day.
When I woke, and heard, the news.
That you, had past, away.
And were taken out while I slept.
That day, I didn’t, cry.
Didn’t shed, a single, tear.
But that’s not because, I didn’t care.
It’s just that I don’t grief that way.
I smile whenever there’s pain.
Cause if I don’t.
Then I don’t know what else to do.


Bridge

Cause you left me way too soon.
Going on is so hard without you.
I dream about you at night.
I still think about you all the time.
Why did you have to go?
Why did you give up on hope?
I know you missed him,
but now I have to miss you too.


Chorus

It’s not fair!
That you had to leave.
And now I’ll never see your face.
How did that seem, like the right thing to do?
Cause it’s been so hard here.
Without you.


(Instrumental Break)

Different Bridge

I know, that it’s hard, when the one you love, is gone.
And I know you missed him so much.
But where did that leave us?!
Where did that leave me?!
Why was it time to leave?!
You could’ve gotten better!
That’s how I feel!
You could’ve gotten back your strength!
Why didn’t you…?
Wait.



Verse 3

What, am I doing?
Thinking this, could’ve been , avoided.
This didn’t, happen, overnight.
It happened, as the, days passed.
I know, you were, growing weak.
And I know, that you, were in pain.
But I still think, that I, should say.
That I, still wish, you were here.

Bridge Again

Chorus

It’s not fair! (It wasn’t fair)
That you had to leave. (That you had to leave that day)
And now I’ll never see your face. (I’ll never see your face)
How did that seem (how did that seem), like the right thing to do? (Like the right thing to do)
Cause it’s been so hard here. (It’s been so hard here)
Cause it’s been so hard here. (It’s been so hard here)
Cause it’s been so hard here!
Without….
You.
Oooh….
Without you.

My mother coloured your hair wet sand. My Nonno questioned me on your being, what colour your eyes are, your hair; he wants to meet you. One of the most important men in my life wants to sit with you and confound you with his Italian accent. He will likely offer you wine, ask you to come see the garden, take part in tasks my Oma has assigned, tell you about all the times we've broken his hammock, look at all the agates he and her have collected, he will tell you of me as a child, what I become in his embraces and through his songs. My Oma will talk to you sweetly, she will probably ask you about religion, I will not try to shield you of this, you could laugh, it would be alright. She will ask you about me, what are your favourite parts, what are your favourite parts. She will ask about what wonder you found in me; she will offer you blueberry pancakes, fried ham, maple syrup. You wonder so often why I told my parents, why my whole family knows of your existence. It is solely because you matter to me; because the more time I spend with you the more you become a part of me. And if I am to grow into another person, it is pertinent they see and know who it is I am growing to. Just as sitting with you and your brother in your basement is something to you as is my family seeing and knowing you. I want them to know that you are an ocean, wet sand and eyes like sea. There is nothing like you. The scent of you like sun and warmth and something drunken in. I wish I could swallow stacks of your picture just to keep you close to me only for a little while longer. There is so much of you that I want only for me.

dude
they have this
giant blue
monolith
in their
bathroom

no i wasn't
high, maybe
sugar high
becca's
oma kept
offering me
cookies
like i was a
monster that
needed
sating

eventually
i was
screaming
at her:
no, oma, i
don't want
any more ****
cookies

not the
point, dude,
the monolith, you
shoulda seen this
thing i wanted to
worship it that's
how awesome it
was

becca said it
was modern art or some
**** maybe its
their god but then
why would
they put it in their
bathroom?

i guess if
you really love
somebody
you will let them
see you
***, smell your
****

thats true love
man

becca
come into the
bathroom
with me
becca
baby
we're going to
church

(Published in Miami Herald on May 26, 2014 Brigitte Jacobs Arnold
Obituary Guest Book View Sign ARNOLD, BRIGITTE JACOBS, 78, MIAMI. Services will be held at 7:00 pm and a viewing from 12:00 pm to 8:00pm at Maspons Funeral Home located at 3500 SW 8th Street, Miami Florida 33135 Wednesday May 28th.)


Don’t ask me why but
I went online this afternoon.
Read the Miami-Herald obituaries.
And not just the Biggies:
Maya Angelou at 86 and
A one hundred year old Herb Jeffries.
Of course we knew Maya,
Her caged bird singing
Softly in our souls,
But may not be aware of Herb Jeffries.
A former singer in the Ellington band,
Herb was known as the Bronze Buckaroo,
In a series of all-black 1930s Westerns--
His nickname evoking
His racial identity,
Quite muddled, flexible.

Although both sad passages to be sure,
It was neither Maya nor Herb
Triggering my tender tears.
But the obituary of:
ARNOLD, BRIGITTE JACOBS, 78, MIAMI,
Known as Oma, Mutti and Mama.
Well, not exactly the Brigitte obit,
My tears for her long-lived mother,
Brigitte’s mother, durable & abiding,
Still breathing at 97:
Hildegard Wolle.
Reading Brigitte’s bio—
German born, Berlin student,
Singer-fashionista &
Proud, naturalized
American citizen—
I can’t stop thinking about Hildegard.
As if the woman didn’t already
Have more than her share of trouble
On this planet nearly a century,
Having already lost her
Grandson Roland, and now,
Her daughter.
Something wacky is going on here.
Some long-distance life lesson
Being applied here.
Poor Hildegard: ungifted with Alzheimer’s,
Suffers crystal distant memories,
Some really bad karma
Stored up in past lives.

Broke but beautiful, full of dreams.
Endearing and Adorable Selfless
as she seems.

In a complete darkness,she's a ray of light
She'd fall out of Clumsiness
But would always hold your hand tight.

Never would she let a frown come
on your face .
She'd always be around
whenever you need someone to embrace.
Her presence is what makes life Perfect
Her absence is always the hardest to neglect.

supports your dreams, helps you acquire.

She's a best friend.
She's a mother.
She's a wife.
She's a sister.

No one born too far from Niedersachsen, said Oma,
ever quite captures their sing-song intonation.
Characterized by subtleties, like an umlauted vowel,
all non-native imitations sound inevitably as ******
as would a cry of “ello, guv’nah!” in a London coffee shop.

Her Plattdeutsch instincts neutered
by decades abroad, married to a son of Milwaukee,
her permanent, dormant longing for Salzgitter awakes only
to trigger hunger pangs of irreconcilable nostalgia
at the passing whiff of a Germantown bakery.

She taught me the word “sehnsucht” over lukewarm coffee
and a pause in our conversation: a compound word
that no well-intentioned English translation
could render faithfully.
It isn’t the same as just longing, she sighed— longing is curable.
Sehnsucht holds the fragments
of an imperfect world and laments
that they are patternless. How the soul
yearns vaguely for a home
remembered only in the residual ache
of incomplete childhood fancies;
futile as the ruins
of an ancient, annihilated people.
How life’s staccato joys soothe
a heart sore from the world,
yet the existential hunger, gnawing
from the malnourished stomach
of the bruised human psyche, remains—
insatiable, eternal.

Long enough ago, a reasonably-priced bus ride away
from the red-roofed apartment in which she babbled her first words,
a kindly old man in a pharmacy asked her
about her peculiar, exotic accent. Once inevitably prompted
with the question of where she was from, she responded only
that she was a tourist off the beaten track.

And when I pointed out, to my immediate regret,
that she gets the same question back here in Ohio,
I realized then that, not once, has she ever referred to the way
the people of her pined-for hometown spoke
as though she had ever belonged to it.