i knew in my past life i was a dog, so i went back and gave myself my ded dogs bone.(so i went back and me back one of my bones?)

i knew in my past life i was a dog, so i went back and gave myself my ded dogs bone.(so i went back and me back one of my bones?)

Little did I know, that one day,
Oh you, dark stranger would whisk me away,
Away from a world, I once took for granted.
Depriving me of the things that I valued,
Most dearly..Most devoutly...

O, dark stranger!
Why, O why...
Did you inevitably have to make me appreciate,
The fact that life is precious and far too short,
And that I could die tomorrow..?

Just what satisfaction do you get,
In making me cherish,
Every minute that He gives us?
In bereaving me of,
The gift of laughter..that is priceless?

Before you attacked me in the shadows,
I had not a clue that
This life was a treasure chest,
Rich in diamonds and gemstones of all sorts,
Or perhaps that it will be snuffed out and finished.

Unbeknownst to me,
Precisely how vulnerable and elusive,
For the misconduct of a handful of cells,
Could change my life so profoundly,
That happiness plays like a sad note.

Bounded to my bed,
Never shall I forget how you pinned me down.
Shut off in the small world of my own,
Unable to help, to meet or to work with
Break out, be of importance, perform marvels for God almighty.

You ponder how people can rejuvenate,
Or gather close to you.
Sympathy, inspiration, foodstuffs together with prayer,
Refreshing menu from the small yard,
Encompassed by care and attention.

What potency lay within me,
Reserve of power
Just been released just as much as I require,
To acquire in the battle,
Against you, dark stranger.

This soul you gave
Has lost its way.
It doesn't know who made
It anymore.

This soul, supposed
To feel brought to life,
Feels numb, confused,
A little old.

This soul may be typical,
Or maybe outlandishly wise for its age,
Or maybe it's a rebel,
For all its rightful rage.

This soul in me's got
A little identity crisis,
With mind and matter tugging left
And faith in nature yanking right.

This soul you gave
May be ungrateful--
For all the life and love it has,
It still feels, oh, so hateful!

This soul needs help,
It's lost its way.
It doesn't know what made
It anymore.

The skeletons
I buried out back with a rusty shovel
claw each other
to climb out of the earth;
left there from days gone past
they fight to live again.

The dwarfed squat bones
of whims that died in conception
climb the bigger ones-
the ones that walked in the light
and those climb those bigger still,
and in the center...

an imposing mass,
lies the biggest of them all.
the only one
too big to move,
fed by shame and loved too long;
it was a giant at it’s death,
and has nothing he can climb.
His hand’s outstretched
to grasp for life
finds only the soft brown dirt
that keeps him in the ground.
All the other little fears
climb up him,
as their ladder to blue skies.

But I slew my monsters long ago
their souls no longer rise.
All that’s left is memories,
to haunt my weary eyes
as they climb upon
their ladder to blue skies.

As I sat outside in the candle lit night, across from a child of Eve, a woman who so bravely brought me into this world, I listened as this woman, my mother; spoke kindly in conversation saying “All I have ever wanted for you is for you to be comfortable in your own skin”
As if she knew that I had a constant shiver in my spin, a creeping feeling of paranoia and fear. As if she could read that I was so afraid to embrace all I was feeling and fearing in life and that all I needed to know was love.
The love a mother, the way they leave trails of sweet kisses on your face as you drift to sleep or hold you in the water of the ocean, arms wrapped around you like you were being, once again, swaddled in a blanket like you had been years ago.
My mother has been present for years but I didn't truly meet her until recently. We lived in the same hollow house, she signed my permissions slips and made dinner but she was not known to me. Never allowed to reveal herself to me, she remained a mystery, packaged in a perfect plastic exterior. Like many families there was an unspoken expectation to fit a certain image, each member played a certain role, dressing and attending rehearsals for their part?
Like so many she learned to live a lie, forced to ignore the bug infestation under her skin and just put on another layer of clothing, of make-up, another costume and simply play pretend. Pretend that she is perfect. Pretend that she is fine. Pretend that she is happy. Pretend that everyone else must be blind. Like that they can’t see the signs or symptoms?
And like so many daughters of Eve she wandered tasting the fruit of the forbidden tree, hoping to find satisfaction in something, never seeing what she was meant to be. Or acknowledging the beauty the she as women possessed. The gentle love of a child lay upon her mother’s breast and I know I curled up in my mother’s chest many nights just to see if her heart was still beating, cause in her eyes I could see she had been weeping and I wondered if her heart was truly broke. I know that Eve was crying for her daughter, for my mother, for me, when she saw the broken hearted burdens that we both carried.
Some nights I speak to my mother’s refection in the mirror when I look at myself; I speak to her kindly as she has to me. I see Eve in my eyes and hope that her beauty will spread within me. I wonder though, if my mother sees herself when she looks in the mirror? or if she sees who she has been, or if rather she sees nothing but others opinions and expectations weighting on her back? Curling her over and the waist to where she can’t even see her most important scar, her naval. The declaration that she was worth laboring for, a constant reminder etched in her skin. I dream of the day that we can meet our mother Eve, speak to her and learn of her aged wisdom stand in the presence of the only woman who has a scar less stomach.
I just wonder what my mother would say if I asked her today, “are you comfortable in your own skin?”

While I sat across the table from your crooked smile and elegant eyes as you continued to sip at your coffee, I attempted to entertain you with another one of my strange stories. And with the conclusion fell an consuming silence, the kind of peaceful silence shared between lovers on Sunday afternoons, the silence that is found when your eyes lock and the only thing you can think of is their beauty and how lucky you are. I shifted awkwardly in my seat when I realize you were looking at me with those same eyes and we having those same thoughts. I played with my straw sifting the ice in my glass; breaking the silence with what seemed like the sound of crushing & crashing that occurs only in an avalanche.

It’s been 1856 days since we last spoke, 5 years and 29 days that I have spent without your presence,  It terrifying to think that have been gone that long.  The death certificates said that it was a suicide, and if you read between the lines that means that you not only gave up on life but also on me. May 21, 2008 haunts me daily.  You are the ever present ghost that speaks to me in my dreams and regardless of how it ended, your first love always lingers within the seams of your thoughts. You recall or recollect every kiss and long embrace and morn of all the time you allowed go to waste. The night that you passed away I caressed my own lips hoping to savor the taste of you. But in the end it is what it is and though you are gone we still live on.