I was not welcome at Hostel Neonate.
Thankfully, this was not a womb with a view. The proprietor, my young, ***** mother, had attempted a swan dive from the staircase of the two story Beantown walkup.  But she failed to stick the landing and I made my debut a month later.  

August 4, 1967, a cataclysmic requiem for the Haight Ashbury dream.  My birth, like that of so many others,  would come to signify the beginning of the end of the counter culture notion of making love, not war.  Free love was no longer free for girls like my mother, and it would never be free for me.  To be continued...

The wise man spends his life, alas
Till sand is low in hourglass
And never finds his true desire
The one to which all hearts aspire

No measure half is mirrored there
In eyes so blue 'neath golden hair
An older love does pale to shame
Poor spark it is to brilliant flame

It fills the heart, it braids the rope
When else is gone, springs forth sweet hope
We see the world...eternal Spring
When born afresh, the angels sing

With just a bit of coaxing, she would sit up and recite
A poem she'd known since grade school, her eyes so clear and bright

Sometimes she'd need a little nudge to get her to begin.  "When mother puts her apron on", she'd say with a small grin...

...and off she'd go reciting each line flawlessly, with ease
Then when she'd end, her mind would seem to go, as if a breeze
Had ushered it away from us as quickly as it came
And then she wouldn't know the poem, nor anybody's name

But with that came a kind of blessing, at least I know of one
She may not have understood, full well, the loss of Jim, her son
But now, Miss Maudie's free from mortal flesh and bone
And those she loved, who've gone before are welcoming her home

Once more she will caress the man who held her hand in marriage
And now, again she'll hold the son she once strolled in a carriage.

They'll watch us as we travel down this wandering path of life
Rejoicing in our triumphs and supporting us through strife


And we know that they'll be there, waiting on the other side
When at last we've reached the journey's end, of this our earthly ride.

Solitary muted songbird watching painted warblers croon.

Silenced by this empty cage cinching
vocal cords with rage  

Surgery would let you talk, but you won't run until you walk

Learn now, just to speak and breathe
And gratitude will set you free

To the rhythm of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star".



Shattered, splintered, fragile heart
******* tore you apart
Silence, like a cancer, grew
Hiding pain that no one knew
Time, it's said, will heal the pain
And give me strength to love again

We gather here, on Labor Day
Each to our family, tribute pay

The Coker clan and all it's kin
To see what kind of shape we're in

Like, who's the newest baby born
And which loved ones have since passed on

A prayer is offered for the meal
While children's eyes, a peek do steal

At a feast that's spread for man and bug
Refreshing drinks in every mug

The men see more dessert and try it
While women think 'there goes my diet'.

With bellies full, we sit and hear
About what's happened, through the year

Of jobs and hobbies, grown-ups speak
As children splash in yonder creek

Old men and babies bridge the gap
That hasn't yet outgrown the lap

When day is done, we'll all depart
With greater love in every heart

May God bless each one gathered here
And bring us safely back next year