I see it.
           See through it.
              See far beyond it.
                   I see it.
          The mask in which you wear when you are around them
                         The people who pretend to be there for you
The ones you can “Talk to”
            But when you try you can’t.
You Can’t talk
          You Can’t Confide
        You Can’t let Go.
       I see it.
                           The mask you secretly desire to remove
                       The mask you have been wearing for so long,
                           you can’t tell if it even is a mask anymore
                          You can’t tell if it is the real you or not.
                You Can’t tell.
                   You Don’t Know
                       You Still Care
                          I see it.
                          There are people around who are like you.
People who pretend and live behind masks they create for themselves    
                                               so others don’t see
        People who can help
    People you can trust in
                  People who want to speak
            These people are numbered in few
I see it.
I see it.
      Why Don’t You?

It was a graveyard and overcast sky
and I sat with book and accordian in hand,
hearing the world with its screams
swallow up around me.
The people whom I had loved and lost,
Papa with his silver eyes
Mama her sharp tongue and tough love
Rudy whose hair the colour of lemons
and questioned why, the living and dead,
worlds apart, yet both did not have a choice.
I stood and screamed so that everything shook
the burning rubble and ash and dust
willing my words to bring it all back
but it did not come, and my breath rose in gasps.
Death had looked me in the eye and said,
“It’s not time yet.”
I would shut my eyes to the world
only decades later.
I will understand that there was hate and pain
there was sadness
but even more so, there was love and joy.
I will know that the people I loved had reason
to kiss goodbye
whether it was their own hurt
or saw it as a necessity,
but they were never truly gone from me
always somewhere nearby,
in the thick and thin
frail and worn
of times.
I would learn
to forgive Death that day.
I will understand that
and I will be hurt,
but I will be okay.

~

Not all deaths are sad.
Some, meant to ease their own pain,
Are called freedom.
While some,
Meant to ease the pain of others,
Are called love.

© BT

knee-deep in forest,
a wellspring of
multi-colored liquid
joy, bubbling
in frothy
peaks
my inner eye open wide
at the sacred wonder
of it all
glory of divine
earth water fire
wind in my soul
sunlit scarlet on
leafveins in this
garden feast of the senses
If heaven were imprinted
upon the runes of my body
a soulmind, shimmering
crystals in heart
then this
is it
nothing less
than spirit
coursing through blood
in untamed rush
a wild creek
teeming with freshness
and trout
deer peeping in shyness
and I am all
      lit up from within
as the hues of life
run through me
pulsing energy
filling me up
in deepest
strokes
of
air,
of trees
of mountain
here
even the stars
seem to call out
my name
and, in ever-depth
in focus of heartwave,
I listen

I First Saw Scranton
...and did not unpack
my life
Iron--    ic  
as if always
meant to be a rusted ruin
I first saw Scranton
Not much of a view
beyond the smoldering mountains of the culm
dumps, decrepit
mills, of once...
prosperous coal
city in denial  
decay of Great mansions--abandoned
on the Hill    
away
from clapboard and spit hovels
of miners
in the barren
mud beside the river
below
and I remember thinking:

"How can I ever live here?" 

I own one of those hovels now
48 years-- under foot and harnessed
in the stays 
Just another in a string of small
sad 
cities'
people
so used
and
waiting
to be
covered up
once again by heaviness--
Its sin  
in the mercy of snow...

Moving so softly as though my petals may fall, I let you continue on your delicate journey
Walking through my garden in bloom, you nourish me
You take the long way round and linger, till daylight is no more
Only by moonlight I see your lips trace mine, pinkness entwined
Inhaling floral scents with quickened breath

... and I must keep all my charge for phone calls. I'm getting a new charger soon, but until then I won't be able to be on site. I'm sure you can relate. Thank you for understanding, and I will see you soon!

♡ Catherine