Scorched earth
And the beams are in my eyes,
The light pulling it's warmth
Through my window
Like a coffin rectangle
And the chirping knocks
The vibes from an otherwise
Melancholy that makes
Me want to avenge my
Mother's death,

The early birds
Eaten by worms in the soiled
Veil of the repeat,
Slowly getting the point
Of no return and the ladies
Power walking to hell,
I pull the shades on the day
For a solitary confinement
And that's OK with me,
Cuz tomorrow,
Everyday the sun,
Lights blindingly.

You would think that new pain takes precedent over old pain

But the truth is that when new pain follows old pain, the weight of the whole tends to be a lot heavier than any individual wound.

A whole lifetime of accumulated pain.

If we have no coping mechanisms we just bear the weight.

The ever heavier weight.

Because let's be realistic, life is full of pain. And there is no one to turn to that doesn't have their own pain.

We can't say "Hey, do you mind holding this for a few hours? Or for a day? I'll pay you for babysitting it."

The truth is we don't want to give up the pain, to give it up means that we give up the immeasurable love we carry for the people we are mourning.

To give it up means that we never loved them enough. And we did. We do.

We love them so much we are willing to carry the pain for the rest of our lives. That is part of their legacy to us. The love, the memories.

After a while the pain is not so heart clenchingly hurtful.

We start to remember the laughter, the happy times. The loving times.

And we take those memories out and examine them. Smile and feel the lightness in our very soul.

We put the memories back and the heavy hurt doesn't seem so dark.

One of my my favorite quotes is  by Lewis Carroll
"I try to believe in as many as six impossible things before breakfast"

That always seemed like a good attitude to me.

The way the world is these days, it’s almost incomprehensible how anyone could have a closed mind.

It seems like most every day there’s a story in the news about one of our certainties being turned on its ear.

Maybe that’s what it means to be human, forever questioning our certainties.

One of my certainties is I will someday smile and outright laugh at the memory of my mom.

She was a funny, outrageous woman that made me laugh daily.

One day she said something so shockingly funny I threw myself across her bed laughing and banged my head on her wall.

Even that made me laugh harder.

She was a treat to talk to. A great artist, pianist and writer.

When my niece Ashley died, her granddaughter, I came home and went straight to her room.

We didn't say a word. I cried with my head on her lap for more than 2 hours. While she made soothing noises and cried with me.

The night she died I looked into her eyes for hours. The fear. The panic. I talked her home through it all.

I smiled while I cried and I made sure she knew she was safe. She was going home to be with loved ones.

I asked my siblings to come around to my side of the bed so she could see them and they couldn't. They just couldn't.

So I talked her home alone while they listened and cried.

I made sure every time she focused on my face I had a smile for her.

I told her to go. I reassured her and at the end gave her massive doses of medicine so she wouldn't hurt.

And I smiled until my cheeks hurt. While I kept talking her home.

I didn't want strangers touching her so out of 7 sisters only my youngest helped me bath and dress her in her favorite clothes.

I washed her waist long hair myself and did it in the long side braid she favored. I put the light makeup she liked on her face. She looked beautiful.

She was wonderful. She was my anchor, my soulmate, my best friend. She was my mother.
I can't believe she is not upstairs in her room waiting for me right now. I will miss her everyday for the rest of my life.

This was written at the same time I wrote the poem "Dying" my 22 year old niece died just a handful of months before my mom did. Last April. I am still working my way through the grieving process. Writing about it makes me feel better. I can pour the pain into my words

The moment you forget.
Mind wanders with regret.
Eyes blurred, lose focus.
“What’s my current purpose?”

Is spontaneous enough?
Chasing a dream, tough.
As a child we rushed,
what was all the fuss?

The lost moment finds.
The lost moment unwinds.
The lost moment reminds.
Messes with our minds.

In that moment there is clarity.
We connect with our reality.
Understand humanity.
Endless possibilities.
Test our comfortability.

A chance to breathe.
Rebirth and see.
Are we where
we want to be?

Take that lost moment,
to reset your focus.
To find yourself and
your new found purpose.

 Aug 2017 Keith W Fletcher

I hope that you will smile today
and give yourself a break.
A smile can be great medicine.
It helps when hearts might ache.

Perhaps, if you try hard enough,
the smile becomes a grin.
And when you've worn it long enough,
you'll feel it grow and then...

The grin becomes a chuckle
and it then becomes a laugh.
And everyone will wonder if
you've made a social gaffe.

For laughter is contagious
and it helps to get us through.
Here's hoping that today will bring
some happiness to you.

 Aug 2017 Keith W Fletcher

I love people watching
Seeing the way they have put themselves together
Watching the dust sweep from underneath their soles as they glide through this moment

I am dumbfounded by the myriad of people and their intricate designs,
In the most non-creepiest way, of course

The scars they show as medals
The wrinkles they try to hide but pop out in a burst of laughter
The different happy feet movements
The little walking hums
The hand swing gestures between couples
The ones that trod around avoiding interaction
The ones that smile ever so fervently trying to connect with complete strangers
The ones that catch me

Oh dear, hi! Awkward smiles, now look away, quick!
People, such restless things, aren't we?

There is something so sacred in the way a person walks when they are happy
And something so enticing about those who walk in uncertainty

What are they thinking? Are they even present? Do they realize that this moment is their actual life? That it is the only truth they will ever know

So they should do that thing
Tell him you love him
Hold his hand even though you are mad at him
Hold onto your mother no matter how old you are
Eat the food!
To not care but not be careless
It's hard, no?

Our egos mixed with fear
Such shitty things
Such menacing and parasitic things

These ideals of what should be, of what should matter - They all fly away with the cold and bitter air that we exhale

Perhaps, Bob Dylan was right when he sang, the answer my friend is blowing in the wind"

And I hope it whirls at our lives like the enormous jolt of bravery you get in your heart when you accomplish something that frightens you.

And then, dear people, I hope we do all the things!


this is the core
of my prayer to You:

all I have is a scrap
deeply wounded faith
darkness tries to swallow me whole
the devil & his demons flay me

Throughout my trials and tribulations
the Lord has wounded me greatly
as I have also wounded myself
& been wounded by life

Still the Lord carries me daily
as He carried me on a Cross one Passover Day
I am slain daily by things within and without my control
the pain too burdensome to bear

Yet He gifted me stubbornness of spirit
to not give up in spite of the hurt
I thank Him for the gift of making me a warrior
to fight in this brutal spiritual war

His Spirit renews me daily
even when I turn away
lost amongst carnalities of life
until I am broken again

Jeremiah 17:7-8

Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,
And whose hope is the Lord.
For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters,
Which spreads out its roots by the river,
And will not fear[ when heat comes;
But its leaf will be green,
And will not be anxious in the year of drought,
Nor will cease from yielding fruit...

Today is my parents 31st anniversary. It's been a year since my father's sins were brought to light and my life began it's decent into the valley.

I've seen domestic abuse, my parents get arrested, 5 friends commit suicide, a failed relationship with somebody I loved, the internal turmoil and moral conflict of a man I hated getting murdered, the loss of countless friendships due mostly to just life, the loss of my best friend of 7 years because I was suicidal and she in essence told me to fuck off because it was my fault, helping the misfits of life just by being a friend and shoulder to lean on, a job that could be going belly up in a few months because we're hemorrhaging money without any gain, the hard decision to quit staffing at the local youth group because I am so totally drained emotionally and physically 24/7, and dealing with severe chronic depression and PTSD...

well, as you can tell it's taken a toll on me... and like I already said, it's all happened within 365 days... I'm not a perfect Christian; I cuss like a sailor and struggle through a sex addiction. But I know God ain't gonna leave me. Because no matter where I am, He is there. No matter how I am, He is greater. No matter who I am, He is still Father. Nothing in this fallen world or the eternity thereafter will ever change Him.

Not the least bit fussy to wit
Playing and amusing oneself with rattles a bit
Lost in poetic verse and dreams of other astral planes it seems
Adventures forgotten, recorded and lost
The ones to come not even thought
Passports to portals and wrinkles in times mind
Waiting and anticipating a simple caress or touch
The one you crave and miss so much
Each one of us an island in a sea of vast humanity
A continental drift awash in an undertow pulling us historically to and fro
Flotsam of regrets
jetsam of perceived perceptions and slights
Partaking in sensual delights and shiny things
A winking star in the universal night heading towards dawns door
As my rattle slips and hits the floor
Reality bites.

I am adopted. I came to my adopted parents with a letter. Contained in it was a line. " Not the least bit fussy. Plays and amuses himself with a rattle."
I always can picture myself doing this.....
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