I feel at one with sweethearts
Through the years,
With the wartime lovers
Who went overseas,
All the shattered hearts,
All the rivers of tears,
I feel them all.
Verses of love,
Lovers who must part,
Portraits of love
Worn so very close to the heart,
All the lovers lost,
Loves that never even start,
I feel them all.
On the train to Haifa
I think about my father
in wartime Palestine,
a different time, a different name
but the same place.
His memories of oranges and beaches
and warm, Mediterranean swimming
are the times he chose to rescue
from the six years when the world
was drowning in its own blood.
The weather is blue and grey
but the sun shines
like my father’s medals
on his blue-grey air force uniform
that entranced me as a child.
As the helicopter gunships prowl over Mount Carmel,
speeding north to Lebanon,
I wonder what times I will choose to rescue
from a land built out of longing,
but paid for in blood.
I'll catch butterflies
and bring them back to you.
Release them in your garden,
like a lovey dovey fool.
And all these winged insects,
mantis, butterflies and crickets
flap along on the electric light that pulses from your world.
Keep those butterflies alive, I'll be bringing more.
How is it I feel the way I do?
Living in this generation often leaves me quite confused, broken, bruised.
Let it be not that which you may believe.
Step aside the actions and reset what you perceive.
Grieve not about that which you verily have grieved.
Take a hit, be SURE to dodge the next. Duck and weave. Duck and weave.
I want the people I owe to know I'm working really hard to pay them back
I want my soul to know it's alright that pain when you cling to my back bones
New unknown unknowns
The frame re and re froze
Don't forget to strike a pose
Don't forget that no one knows
where you're gonna make your light go