"From every wound there is a scar, and every scar tells a story.
A story says, I survived." - Fr. Craig Scott

... a prologue to " Beyond the Telegraph Road "
tribute to a fallen brother



crampon cleats tickle her bedrock
far below the frosty powder dusting;
released from where her majestic peak
parted yester night’s obstinate clouds.

the alpine atmosphere
first chilled and then plummeted
as the starlight glistened;
illuminated ice crystals sparkled
like diamonds in the rough.

I am overwhelmed
by the peaceful aura
surrounding me.

watching how
"these"
footprints
mark the snow
...arousing
a lucid,
stirring awareness
of my existence;

...inciting
a conscious moment,  
extraordinarily deepening
the realization of being.

Much too late
for thoughts
of what her father
might say

Fay went with you
to the Globe cinema
in Camberwell Green
a right fleapit of a place

but the film
you wanted to see
was on there
Daniel Boone

all about the Old West
and after it was over
and you came out
into the bright sunlight

your eyes felt
over whelmed
after the darkness
of the cinema

what did you think?
you asked
Fay said
yes it was good

not the sort of film
Daddy would have let me see
well he won't know
you've seen it

will he
you said
unless he asks me
then I'll have to

tell him the truth
she said
why would he ask?
you looked at her

standing there
with her fair hair
and lovely blue eyes
he might ask me

what I have done today
she said
her eyes beginning
to show signs of fear

maybe he won't
you said
just tell him
you've been studying

American history
she looked at her hands
he doesn't like America
or Americans

she said
well you don't have to
like something to study it
I have to do it all week

at school
you said
maybe he won't ask
she said softly

looking at you
fiddling with her fingers
distract him
tell him something else

talk about a butterfly
you saw on the bombsite
she looked at you
and smiled

you don't know him
he'll ask me
what sort of butterfly
and I won't know

and he'll know
I've been lying
and that will mean
being punished

she looked up the street
toward the bus stop
we had better be getting back
she said

he'll be home soon
ok
you said
and took her hand

and walked toward
the bus stop and waited
for the bus
if I told my mother

the truth all the time
she'd have a nervous breakdown
it's more kinder
to keep her happy

in innocent bliss
of what I get up to
Fay looked haunted
and was silent

she still held your hand
a fading bruise just visible
on her upper arm
where her dresses sleeve

moved
how about some ice-cream
when we get back
I've got a Shilling

given to me
by my old man yesterday?
she hesitated
ok I’d like that

she said
and when the bus
came along
you both got on

and sat next
to each other
downstairs near
the conductor

watching the scenes
of passing people
and traffic go by
but a special place

in your mind and heart
of Fay
next to you
quiet and shy.

1
Like the  turning sheets
of a monthly calender,
life has layers after layers.

How would he know that ,
just a callow youth on  sea shore
playing with  smooth pebbles,
that was when he saw her first.

She was the woman who
taught him, whole cities lay merged
within a woman, like wave after wave,
of inhabitants over time, leave their
archaeological markers of periods,
she was a mystery like life itself.
There is no way to decipher.

2
They first met
in the city of light,
Diwali lamps were lit
in all courtyards,
It was an immortal moment
in his  life, he realized,
leading him gently to the light
which evaded him though he assiduously sought,
she parted without a word
Did she belong to someone else?
3
The city of sorrow,
yet again brought them  face to face
Ridden with angst of existence
he stumbled, was about to fall, then
he  could experience her iron will
more than a woman, she stood, like a pillar of strength,
she took his weary head in both hands, pressed to her breast,
pulled out the crown of thorns, their paths
diverged again, inexplicably complex, was their relationship.
4
In the city of guilt,
an unexpected meeting again,
they were surprised. Here, they were on their own.
They  wanted to take their lives in their hands,
in spite of the currents that pulled them to different directions.
But he knew all the while that her self, was divided between
three cities within  in her.They co-existed, Light.Guilt.Sorrow
will their love survive? Not all loves are intended to live long,
a parrot in his tree of loneliness always whispered.He pretended he didn't hear,
A game of dice, almost was their lives, mysterious forces did bet on their love,
Having traveled through fire and water, she was beyond pleasure and pain,
Kali with a fiery nose stud, female power that overcomes all pain,
she became, that shattered his dreams for them.
He was thankful, to be awakened by her,
the light she lit, burned bright, within.

Now or never.He crossed the river.
Deliverance comes from an inner source,
otherwise all will end as an idiot's tale
signifying nothing.
Her flame lighted his wick, liberated him.
5
Fire spitting dragons one can tame,
but in the duel with demons of life,
it could be a blood letting end,
call it play of chance or what ever
they are the  easy game here
He  packed his backpack and
started to move eastwards,
Westward bound was she, invariably,
her heart had still a song left for him,
the void was filled, the pain was stilled
with anesthetics of mind.
Just for one last time they went to the beach,
watching the sunset was their good bye to each other.
They never met again.

I have this seemingly endless list of passions, desires, dreams, and necessities. They haunt me. I am stuck in this state of near oblivion in a dismal attempt at removing myself from it all. It seems that time itself is taunting me; reminding me of the days and hours that are slipping easily from my grasp. There are mountains to be climbed and trails to be hiked and planes to be flown. I have the world to see and it seems that I am approaching the cliff and I can either dive into my travels or turn around sullenly and hope to find this time again. Meanwhile my studies await my return and my career hangs in the air with hope of a worthwhile degree. Yet I feel as if I am sewn to the floor of this place and there is no cutting myself loose to tend to any of these callings. I am watching my life pass me by and I am not entirely sure how to become a part of it.

I miss the look on your face when you saw me
I miss the smell on of the smoke on your skin
I miss the small, silver camera you held in your hand
I missed you the moment you'd taken me in
I miss the long drives past rolling corn feilds
I miss the tissue crumpled in my hand
I miss the trailer sat 10 feet from your porch light
I missed you the moment that I knew I can
I miss the family that I'd never known there
I miss my neices blue eyes, curly hair
I miss when Aunt Nikkie painted my nails green
It started chipping, but I didn't care
I miss the fireflies that I couldn't catch
I miss the movies you forced me to watch
I miss the ashtrays all over the house
I missed the jokes I continue to botch
I miss the grapes that you stuck by my bedside
I miss the feel of my neice on my lap
I miss my cousins attempting to drown me
I even miss Tristan, whom I wanted to slap
I miss the day that they took me out shopping
I miss watching movies with them late at night
I miss winning money on Grampa's 10 slot machines
I miss how hard those mosquitos would bite
I miss the day that you bought me a pizza
I miss the way that smoked everyday
I miss the drive to the airport that morning
I miss your face, as you drove away

They spoke of bears, I saw one last year while skating
And these women were chatting of their recent experiences.
Suppose I am lucky to have been only friendly with deer in the forest
To be bear meat would be rather traumatic
Last time I saw bears, they were getting ready to sleep
I could have stood there and watched them for hours
But it was the lovey dovey sea otters on a later, snowy visit
That captivated me more
They were so tender and violent, incredibly adamant, ardent lovers
I was embarrassed to be watching them mate while next to...
A man.
The children were confused, it was played off as parents tend to do
As nothing more than play and rough housing
The nearby people are in a heated relationship
I care not either side or their issues
But it is at such times as I see one of the mom's kids
Struggling silently with the boyfriend/half-brother/relationship crisis dramas
that I am more resolute than ever
to keep any potential relationship that one day may happen
Private, far away, from my children
As this has yet to be an issue,
no personl relationship of such a type
I am thankful for where I am in my life