While waiting,
Outside in the cold weather,
My breath, forming puffs
Like smoke;
My mind melted back, memories —
Of a young-ish Little Bek,
Holding a “***”* in my right hand, 
puffing rings
Of imaginary smoke.
Thinking of this made me chuckle,
So much, I almost choked 
On the imaginary frosty smoke.

Your name just appeared on my screen...
I didn't write it and you didn't call ==
I hadn't seen it for a while, I haven't thought of you for longer.

It came from a misspelt word: a bunch of odd letters scrambled together trying to form coherency.
What it brought back were memories much;
Memories of our time together, which in the moment felt thrilling, exhilarating and reckless ==

For a long while since, I've been reflecting, refracting and returning ==
I now understand you were like my father,  trying again to have control over me;
You were unresolved emotions, actions and words ==
Things I was not conscious of.

Now, more adept at decoding subliminal thoughts and actions,
I want to push you right back, from the darkness whence you came.

It wasn't the freeze that took my breath away, 
this morning, it was this memory of you ==
A cloak of chains that spoke.
I want to shake it off and run free, far from your memory ==
Like a babe in the Garden of Eden
not knowing the evil that surrounded them.
But I'm not losing a single hair to care
that life is not fair.
Just enjoying the freedom == 

I don't know what you want from me,
That you prompt me with this memory ==
I don't know what you expect,
Demanding reciprocity,
Obliterating my freedom, when you extracted,
All the foundations of connection.
and thresholds of compassion.
All the holdings of collaboration.
Leaving nothing but destruction.

I walked through a pond of croaking frogs, loud and strong and forever a gallant song until I approached --
Whence they ceased their tune.
I wrapped the silence around me like the silver lining of Joseph's dream coat.
And rode the waves of fog around me, strong, confident and unimpeachable.
Shadows loomed, daring me in the face of darkness to stay strong.
I picked up the pace, and I ran my race home yelling --

yippeeeeeeeee!

There comes a time in life
when you start letting go for peace.
Relationships. Wealth. Power. Style. Food.
And in the quiet, you find yourself.

Today I pulled a plum,
Apart with my fingers and my thumb.
I did not use a knife,
But held it open to examine life.
And when I finally ate
It tasted all the more richer.
And the texture
Was a virtuoso in visceral sensuality;
Vibrant and mouthful.
The enveloping heat from the sun
Moved through my body like a homerun.
And sounds exploded in my eardrum,
Replacing the peace with a sweet hum.

put the song on and dance,
let your hair down
throw your arms up
and dance. Feel the vibrations,
sensations revurberating,
through the trance
of life's circumstances.
Romance pulsates in the dance.

I think you still look at me,
like you did when I was a kid —
Forever seeing me
as my younger, wilder (freer) self,

When you look at me, still,
All my childish ways were for nothing,
But, I see them as my "red pill"
transforming me into something —

I think you also still see me
lying in that coma.
Your dreams dashed for the ideal daughter's glee
You wished to live out your long-lost desires...

So you dressed me, did my hair
made me up like a daisy doll
lying there without sound to share,
I couldn't protest, I wore that knoll.

But, now —
Here I am,
With a voice less shallow
Yelling:  "I am not that kid anymore!"

So, how do you like that pill —
to swallow?

There you are little wren,
Drawing my attention in,
To your looping, lonely, little psalm —

Some men
get knocked down far too easily.
They're as solid
as a sandcastle when the air is breezy.

Are we now a world
where our values do not matter?
They beg for coin,*
but deliver poisonous words that shatter --

I am not a "man hater"
I am desperate to find,
Men who can stand the test of time,
And know and whence speak their mind --

But all I see are puppets --
tied to the TikTok
Of public opinion that changes every season,
dancing to the worthless tune run amok --

So many colorful shards,
so many scattered books,
my Father left behind.

He connected the dots
with me, in space and time,
listening to the wind
when it was raining.

Absent and so close,
he used to say:
“Listen to what’s on the ground.
See what lifts us at night
when the birds go silent.”

He gave me more unrest,
he was the left hand
forced to write
with the right.

He believed in me
when the system
sent me away,
dismissed me.

He had hope
without medals,
standing steadfast
in the last row.

Now the body crumbles.
There is a memory
full of holes.
A counting echo—
he remembers,
he doesn’t,
it’s fine,
still hard
but his voice lives…

Time is blending
into a rusted chain
of events.
Tenderness,
resistance
to the falling apart
of departure.

He won’t come back.
He won’t recover.
The body is warm,
life doesn’t want to escape
the shrinking shell.

Sharp words cut helplessness.
Many nights still come
until the final return
to the embryonic state,
to point zero.

I am here,
into this deep night
being the witness to breath,
awake in the dark gentleness.