I don't have a face for the man who just died.
But it is true indeed that my heart did cry.
I have been hearing his voice all through the last year.
He was firm and strict and kind in his own way.
The year has been too cruel that now I fear.
The news hit me hard to know he is no longer here.
I feel the numb as I hear more terrible news filling in.
Someone I knew or someone my friends knew.
They got affected and for few left and few are leaving.
And it will be hard to see the world around with them missing.

Once upon a time,
we lived in Shangri-log
It was hollow and cozy
and safe from the fog
We built us a kitchen,
out of sticks and stuff
We built benches and shelter
and swept away the duff

We were working on the hill,
early that spring
Away from our log,
when the bear gave a ring
He raided all of our salty snacks,
and even some of our liquor stash!
And all he left was a big bear mess,
and a pile of.. I'll let you guess...

So we learned our lesson, no more storing food
We cleaned up camp and life was good

But we had to return to our toil
Spreading horse ****,
amending soil
The next time we returned
to our big round squat
Something was wrong,
but we didn't know what..

We decided not to worry
and we had a party
We were lit up all night
and the sky was starry...
As the sun was coming up,
the time for sleep rolled around
But as we laid down to rest,
we heard a startling sound...
Beep! Beep! Beep! Filled the air!
And a churning of trees!
They were clearing the area,
We needed to flee!

We snatched up some things,
hid the rest in a stump
Our buddy was collapsing
his tent on the run
We got to the commune,
but no sleep would be found...
We all were uneasy about
bulldozers on ground

At the end of the day,
When the workers were gone
We dashed up the hill,
to check on our zone
Our camp was untouched,
Our things were all fine
But the brush had been cleared
all under the power lines...
And since our log was exposed, it was time to go
(I think we can take a hint, dontcha know...)

We cleaned everything up,
Tore everything down
Well almost everything,
Our old bed's still around
The years have gone by,
The brush has regrown..

It's hard not to wish we could live in our old home...

I grew up moving from place to place,
Usually about once a year.
It is very difficult for a child to form friendships,
When they are never in the same school two years in a row.
Military brats go through this, I'm told.

My childhood was a series of disasters and moves.

Like the apartment building in Alexandria that caught on fire every other weekend.
Where my step-dad lost control of the car and tried to stop by sticking his foot out of the door.
My sister almost died from an allergic reaction to soap.
I fell off the jungle-gym and nearly bit off my lower lip.

We moved.

The townhouse in burke where my step-dad went through the sliding glass door, face-first.
Where he got Tiger, the 75 lb. German Sheppard,
Who was crazy and scared the **** out of us constantly.
Let's see what else?
I knocked my sister out of a second-story window,
Our babysitter was a ******,

We moved.

The townhouse in Fairfax where I first saw my step-dad hit my mother,
Where we lived when they divorced.
This is where we lived when the 300 lb. redneck enjoyed trying to **** me on a daily basis.
Our college student tenant had to stand up for me.

We moved.

Basically to make a long story short, not a lot of ****** stability in my childhood.

Disaster.

Move on.

Every single adult relationship continued this pattern.

Whether this is because I unconsciously seek out these situations, I don't know.

Probably.

I sometimes think that people need their disasters, so they have a reason to give up.

I am sick of disasters.
I am tired of moving on.
I am sick and tired of giving up.

And of being given up on.

TWO VERSIONS OF THE SAME STORY

                                          ( I)
lost in a thousand days our lives are twined
like  deep rooted trees we grow, embarking on a destiny
digging deep into the  rich soil of life, that which sustains
we take from it, giving in return, sharing the elements
that make us who we are, continuing to thrive
we are bold, boundless- letting our roots go where
they need to go, we are capable, inclined to be more, we give
into the future and past, for we our delineated, crisscrossed
we live in possibilities, we are ancient still young, living invincible

                                              (II)
love as a canvas expressed in this portrait of us
made from our flesh and feeling exposed, to be
artfully designed copied, envied, worshipped, whispered
as we take repose upon the alter of love, letting our passion burn
we are ageless, advantageous, ever-knowing
while there in the corner, a soundless spy stays ready
to keep watch over us, candle flame flickering, it burns through
illuminating our shadow, as we grow bigger from floor to ceiling,  immense, ready to breach our  boundaries that hold
us down, we tell ourselves, no more as we make ready to
accept this destiny and not some alternate version copied from  

by Michael Perry

She wakes in the morning
And climbs up the stairs
In the grey dawn pretends
She’s the only one there

She stands under water
And hides in its brace
Letting it burn her skin
Away from this place

She opens the door but
She keeps her eyes closed
She can't read the truth
Etched into the windows

She’s alone in a crowd
And she chooses to be
She’s afraid of the shock
If she set herself free

She’s scaling walls
One brick at a time
Fighting for a reason
To believe she should try

Too far gone she’s so Jaded
Without self-medication
But she's still star gazing'
She doesn’t know why

She knows that she has to
The empty persists
And it makes her feel small
Like she doesn’t exist

She floats through nirvana
On pavement and back
Gets lost under street lights
As grey fades to black

Her wheels turn slowly
Almost at a stand still
She feels like they'll stop
But knows they never will

Too far gone she’s so jaded
Without self-medication
But she's still star gazing'
She doesn’t know why

She knows that she has to
The empty persists
And it makes her feel small
Like she doesn’t exist

And she doesn’t exist
And she doesn’t exist
She likes it this way
Without a purpose

She’s gliding in grey light
And staying up all night
And everything’s alright
If she doesn’t think of it

Too far gone she’s so jaded
Without self-medication
But she’s still star gazing'
She doesn’t know why

She’s scaling walls
One brick at a time
Fighting for a reason
To believe she should try

She’s still star gazing
but she doesn’t know why
But she doesn’t know why