I find my mother in the strawberry field
Not far from the river, kneeling in the dirt

the sun beats down her back
gray hair ruffling in a hot wind

It hasn’t rained in a month
and the earth is an old woman’s face,
cracked with longing

I kneel beside her, our hands on the dusty earth
This earth that she has dug every spring
kneeled upon every summer

Barefoot and sun burnt, plucking ripe red fruit
For pies and jams

Juice-stained lips and tired backs
My mother and her mother, on the porch
Sipping Sherry in sunsets of July’s and Augusts, year after year
Comparing blisters, freckles, wrinkles, lives
Buckets of strawberries overflowing in the kitchen sink

This year the strawberries are withered
*****, red raisins on my tongue
That taste bitter and sharp

I watch my mother, keening softly on the ground
Her heart peeled open and raw

I whisper to her, The dead don’t live very far away

Her swollen grey eyes search the field across the river
As if she expects to see Grandma standing there
Waving, mouthing soundless words on the air

I know when it’s her turn to change worlds, it will be me,
Kneeling here, in the sun’s bright assault
My own daughter by my side,
Witness to this grief,

Her soft, comforting voice, telling me,
The dead don’t live very far away.

i'm so tired of being tired.
i carry these rickety bones
around like extra baggage
long and far
left moving in motion like an old carousel that should have stopped working long ago
i'm there for the laughs and the smiles
always there but forever absent
on a mental vacation you could say
i am something you will grow fond of and eventually leave
and that's okay
see,
i'm not the type of girl your mother warns you about
i won't break your heart like a bottle of whiskey after having a little too much
i will stand by your side until the day my bones snap from carrying the weight of the  world
and my name turns into a r.i.p scribbled on a gravestone.

Pain......Pain.......Pain......
Death's Gentle Touch.                

Pain.....Pain.....Pain.....              
A measure of a souls worth.
                                      
Pain....Pain....Pai­n....      
A simple reminder, of what we are.
                    
Pain...Pain...Pain...        
Fragile, weak, selfish.
                  
Pain..Pain..Pain..
We learn from it.

Pain.Pain.Pain.
But what is it we truly gain?

A green eyed monster within,
in behaviour satan's akin.
Other's possessions are his attraction,
flies on wings of dissatisfaction.
Hopes more for other's loss than his gain,
can take ugliest of forms without constraint.

She comes to him,
They walk together.
Through the dusky evening,
Past fields of heather.

She takes his hand,
Her fingers cold,
She starts to lead him,
Both gently and bold.

Soon the pass,
A playing boy,
Enraptured by,  
Some simple toy.

Shortly, they pass,
An old country church,
Lovingly surrounded,
By a stand of birch.

Full of lights,  
The windows shine,
While in the steeple,
The church bells chime.

Down the steps,
Carpeted wholely in red,
New bride and groom,
Joyously tread.

On they go,
At the end of the day,
Still his hand in hers,
As she leads the way.

They next pass by,
A tiny cemetery,
He sheds a tear,
To his wife in memory.

Finally, they come,
To the end of their travel,
His nerves just now,  
Begin to unravel.

She smiles at him,
And pats his hand,
She whispers softly,
"No fear, no pain in this next land."

"She's waiting there,
For you to be."
He takes her hand,
Most happily.

Through the mist,
They both do walk,
The peace he feels,
Is quite a shock.


There she is,
He runs to greet,
Tight hug and kiss,
When they meet.

He says to her,
As he takes her hand,
"It truly is,
The promised land."

She shined at me,
through ample crowded skies.
She threw me a platinum smile.
She exuded a heart that shone like a stone,
a brilliant quartz crystal,
A purplish glow.
She seemed so wholly fully to pop.
A plane passed  her by with lights flying like a wild crazy kaleidoscope top.
A sparkling disco ball.
What an equation to be hold,
tonight,
my moon's not solid gold.
My eyes were transfixed on her so shining glow,
With her all seeing eyes,
how much does she know?
What's to become of civilization?
As her beautiful eyes,
May bear witness to such desecration.
I love her,
The lady Diana,
Entrancing.
Beautiful.
The queen of the skies.
My dear lady moon,
Oh to see through your eyes.
(c) Livvi

I'm going tripping you know,
Staggering into the bedroom of terror,
Hell on Earth,
I can't feel the floor,
Tumbled over the footwear,
that's left over there.

Fell over those clothes,
strewn under my nose.
Her smelly old slippers, resembling kippers,
Chucked on the floor just inside the door.
I know I shouldn't oughta,
Share my bedroom with my daughter.
We're both messy.
Piles of shoes,
just yesterdays news.
I nag,
she does too,
all over a collection of shoes and clothing,
Being tidy's not my thing!
(C) Livvi

Watch those blue shoes, being carried on the tide,
They're rolling from the water's edge,
propelled by sunlight,
lost in pain.
Once stepped over stones,
with you,
once weighed down.

See the lose broken twigs,
cruising with the tide beside them.
The shoes remember you intrinsically,
For all eternity,
Never will you be forgot,
Floating shoes,
have been released,
nearly free.
They're missing your lost kisses,
Riding ever onward,
Flowing toward home.
Being soothed and washed,
Cleansed and washed away.

They're dancing as seahorses do,
as they roam,
towards relief,
being bathed in marinated foam.
(C) Livvi

When the world starts crumbling around me
I close my eyes and build.
A shelf here, our bed there;
a table for four, a porch for more;
Hardwood floors, soft pillows;
your record player, a piano;
framed photographs of ruins;
a loveseat piled with books.
When I start to question,
I start to build.
And in the long silences between us,
I am furnishing our home,
piece by piece,
until I forget the question,
and remember
that I,
that we,
are under construction.