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 Jan 2015 Mark Upright
SE Reimer
~

an arrival obscure
white package austere
makes its debut with the daily post;
an advent surreal
no ordinary mail
this addressed to his last known abode.

how could they have know
he’d moved up in this world
to a parcel up high on a hill;
where the air is more clean
the grass there grows green
adorned with granite and daffodil.

“Overdraft Settlement” it read
“a few years overdue,” i said!
softly weeping, his mother’s response.
over-burdened, and under a cloud
fervent prayers she utters aloud
yet nothing but silence from that “beyond.”

no settlement, no check can ever replace
the comfort she seeks in seeing his face,
what she would trade for one last goodbye;
each daybreak one closer to final sunset
she searches for answers she doubts she will get,
yet each morning she rises with a hope of reply.

but maybe, it is just this...
a “reply” as good as it gets;
these messages showing that he’s not forgotten.
though perhaps meager the payment,
like a gift of heaven-scent,
each a reminder, his presence from heaven.


~ postscript ~

party to a class action for exorbitant overdraft fees, a settlement check arrived this week with his name on it.  it is five long years since we laid him to rest, yet it is reminders like this that can leave us short of breath and stir up every imaginable emotion we have felt in this loss.  but, if we still our hearts and quiet our minds we can see hope, like a sliver of sun ray breaking through a ceiling of dark clouds, shining down from heaven to give us a reminder of him… his presence from heaven.


(kind of like my new cover page photo)
 Jan 2015 Mark Upright
SE Reimer
~

do you know the way
to the place her heart resides?
or does the beauty
of her face,
her shape,
blind you, as you to fail to find
the many hidden pathways
that will lead
to love that's meaningful;
obscured in the shadows,
the depth that makes her beautiful;
for the beauty that you seek
is a treasure buried deep inside!
but infatuated longing,
is a hunger never quenched,
for companionship cannot be found
in what only lies skin deep;
in taking shortcuts to desire
while her depth is pushed aside.
just remember danger lies
in well-worn paths, and
cliched answers,
over-simplified.
but if you take the road less-traveled,
walkways most will never see,
the door to all her hopes and fears
will open wide with liberality;
the steps that lead past all the latches,
her towers of security,
for her heart can ne'r be conquered,

no!

instead it must be gently freed!


*post script.

she is everything to me! and i am reminded, often, that her heart i never took, for she gave it... freely, and with liberality! she is a treasure... in deed!  and the day that i take this simple truth for granted is the day that i will begin to have lost her!
 Jan 2015 Mark Upright
SE Reimer
~

it is a storm approaching
not the tempestuous kind
of driving rain or whirling wind
but a storm all the same
a marriage of sorts
of joy and of tears
of hopes and of fears
of death and of life
of what has come
with what has not yet
where photos and albums
and letters and cards
are all we can touch
of what has gone by.
 
yet there's a tree to light
there are gifts to wrap
their are cards to send
to loved ones dear
when the hug that we wish
the one we most want
is the one we can't give
this our loss has tied us in knots.
for memories and laughter
their kindest words
their shouts of joy,
these fade away
yet they’re all that remain
these join us at the table
these call in the park
at Sunday Mass
and post office,
but especially the back porch,
when it is quiet and dark.
they join us at parties
where thoughts of our missing
joins the gay, happy greetings
and on Christmas morn
when our gifts lie unopened
their chair is empty still
at dinner there's a space
that no one else will ever fill
in its place is a candle
a scent we know well
a light we'll not extinguish
perhaps it is the closest we can get
to their presence we so miss.

the storm on the inside
one that no one else sees
as they stroll down the street
as they shop merrily
our hearts beat hard but quietly.
inside we are breaking
this storm threatens to drown
yet there is no one around
who can save us
who ever would notice
or even know how to care.
its the cry of our heart
that no one can hear.
our tears brushed aside
hoping no one can see
this storm it is raging,
raging wildly in me.

i looked for a card
my thoughts to express
but the cards in the store
say nothing like this
no words such as weeping
or anguish are found
no phrases with lonely or angry
in the Christmas card aisle
so just how to reconcile
my juxtaposition?
how can I quell
this sense of foreboding
that i know all too well?
truth is, i cannot
i must go through
with this marriage
and pray that some day
some day soon, I can hope
that i will awaken
to see sunshine again
and consider these memories
not nightmares, but friends.

~

post script.
"blessed are those who morn, for they shall be comforted"  Matthew 5:4


*these are so many among us who mourn, in particular at what are otherwise joyous occasions.  for these ones, Christmas only adds to the acuteness of their pain.  for them, Christmas is a storm they know is coming, a time when they must prepare for, battening down the hatches of their soul, so they are assured their grief does not leak out on the joy of everyone around.  my advice for us all- know who walks near you well enough to reach out to them, give them a shoulder to weep on, share your tears with theirs. assure them you have not forgotten.  repeat the name of their loved one, a name they long to hear others speak.  for most of us, this name is one you cannot say too often. speak in the present tense of their loved one for they are not lost, they are still present and very much a part of the grieving one's life.  as just one of many examples, remember... a mother who has lost her only child is still a mother.  it is a title that she still bears, coming with all the burden, yet without any future benefit, these having been stripped away. love her, hold her, be shelter for her heart in the coming Christmas storm.
 Jan 2015 Mark Upright
SE Reimer
~

the stores here are crowded,
and everywhere i see
the signs of the season
selling Christmas to me;
the lights, sights and sounds,
flashing colors abound;
on every channel the music,
their ads and their movies.
on every corner selling trees,
their seasonal drinks
to quell the freeze.
we'd not know it’s Christmas
without them telling us so...
at least that's what it seems.
and even that word,
they've seemed to steal,
taking Christ out of Christmas
so their wares they can sell.
it's enough to lose my place
to choke on my song
the words stuck in my throat
it’s all gone so wrong.

so, their “X” i hoped to replace
and in my haste to remand
i made my demand,
“take the ’X’ off of Xmas,”
i shouted;
“put Christ back, in His place!”
but my kneee-**** reaction
mixed with failure to search then
made me blind to the facts
so instead i besmirched them.

then a truth i discovered,
just yesterday,
and now that i know,
i'm embracing the "X"
as should every good Christian.
for it was the "X"
those Greeks knew best;
it carried the "chi",
putting the ”X” there in Christ;
it went something like this- Χριστός.
and the marauding i’ve fought,
the hijacking i thought,
it was never taken;
it was never gone, at all,
it’s been there all along.
so i’ll admit i’ve been wrong.
for “X” marks the spot,
an intersection of sorts,
where the sacred meets the profane,
a collision of Able and Cain.
and just as Christ born to man
and new life He began,
with my faith now restored,
i can return to my song
and sing of Christmas,
the Christ child,
and Xmas
again!  

~


post script.
with inspiration from the following at Dictionary.com.:


Here’s a holiday surprise that only the dictionary can provide. Do you find the word “Xmas,” as an abbreviation for Christmas, offensive? Many people do.

You won’t find Xmas in church songbooks or even on many greeting cards. Xmas is popularly associated with a trend towards materialism, and sometimes the target of people who decry the emergence of general “holiday” observance instead of particular cultural and religious ritual.

But the history of the word “Xmas” is actually more respectable — and fascinating — than you might suspect. First of all, the abbreviation predates by centuries its use in gaudy advertisements. It was first used in the mid 1500s. X is the Greek letter “chi,” the initial letter in the word Χριστός. And here’s the kicker: Χριστός means “Christ.” X has been an acceptable representation of the word “Christ” for hundreds of years. This device is known as a Christogram. The mas in Xmas is the Old English word for “mass.”  (The thought-provoking etymology of “mass” can be found here.) In the same vein, the dignified terms Xpian and Xtian have been used in place of the word “Christian.”

*As lovers of the alphabet, we are transfixed by the flexibility of “X.” The same letter can represent the sacred and the profane (“rated X”).
Dry Spell

No action in the living room
No action in the kitchen
No action in the bathroom
What are your expectations for the bedroom?
Keep your expectations realistic.
(Nothing going to happen
My midnight blue satin dress
Someone said that it’s wicked, wicked tease
However, I know better:
it controls my every mood
Staying ahead as my curves survey the scenery
  I swayed down the avenues

Who’s going be the lucky fellow?
To auction it off my back
Who’s the one that
  see 3-D images with only one eye?
but to see what lies beneath this midnight blue
is sating memories

I felt the earth move under my feet
Pleats and creases;
hisses and random kisses
Tonight I am your mistress
and most of all
the goddess in the mist

Airbrush my body with admiration.
but never again say you love me
What is love?
I love you
not because
you're good looking

I love you
not because
you're caring

I love you
not because
you dote on me

I love you
not because
your smiles are sweet

I love you
not in lust
of your crevice
or orifice
or skin

I love you
because
without you
I feel

incomplete within.
rain at sea
thunder soaks the hot air
with a suddenly clarity of light
and as the sound rolls off into vast distance
the waters of the sea change color
breeze becomes foretaste of wind
its strong heralding of approaching storm
makes a swift heart beat
makes the soul race in its desires
bend hand to line and sail
bend eye to breaking waters
never felt so alive
at sea
at sea
(dedicated to anthony 'tyrone' polite. may you find the peace you sought and rest easy longliner)
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