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prayer of hope, for young and old, who suffer from the slings and arrows sadness and the loss of love; I offer up this prayer of hope and offer you my hand around your shoulders until you no longer require it

more than once,
for lengthy periods,
by events, other people,
my self was eradicated
and limping from day
to night, and J faced
absolutes, choices choking,
alternating alternatives that
offered zero, or even less
than zero, and the inkwell
wasn't refillable, and I could
point to nothing yet encouraging a mystifying purposed existence

then came a woman

who asked nor proffered
conditionals
pre, prior post or otherwise
and
offered up the miraculous
drink, human kindly notice,
snd it
drained the bitters,
began fluid replacement,
and slow resuscitation

and then
poems rebirthed me,
 liberated the angry sacred
gory sadness words devoid of glory,
with a reworded score, and
the eyes could write without
a patina filter of jaundiced hatred,
and whispered private internally
many times a beloving
hallelujah

and when ever the remembrance of
the near misses are crackly occasionally appearing, the surge dissipates intact quick
into a netherworld for suppressing
and bid "away with you," and a
thin lipped smile part sneer
for having survived
even
prospered when
                    then came a woman

and the self, the my self,
returned
after an absence of destructed
decades...deadening decades

and I smile when
the grandchildren tell me
knock knock jokes
and gently knock me on the head,
to make sure I'm alert,
then came woman
who had already~all ready
knocked me on the
heart
lipstadt  reflections of self
  Jun 30 Nat Lipstadt
Bekah Halle
I hold this space
For you to be —
Vulnerable and wholly.
I hold the space
When you stumble,
I come alongside,
on bended knee,
So that I can see —
Your bright future in my eyes.
I tell you what's ahead
It's more exciting than you can imagine —
I encourage you to look up
And out,
And live with no regrets.
Isn’t that what it's like to love?!
  Jun 30 Nat Lipstadt
Skyla GM
Write me an obituary
and come to my memorial,
so we can say goodbye,
to every piece of me,
that ever once,
was wonderful.

Kiss the cold cheeks,
of everything I used to be—
the ways I used to believe,
the things I used to see.

Then you can come,
and stand beside me,
as I cry these tears again,
for every dream inside of me,
that will never live again.
I used to think the swans would live
Until the world no longer spun.
And that they could live forever and a day
And bask out in the sun.
Even the ugly duckling; who soon learnt his fate,
Doesn't have an end or a sell-by date.

Now, as we know, things come and go.
And beauty fades and falls.
But I used to believe that swans could go
And out live us all.

I see white feathers, of purity and of clean.
And I watch them move so graceful and ever so serene.
The swans, they dance and glide across the lake's wide top.
And will always do so, even when my heart stops.

Where do swans go to die?
I hear my teacher ask.
I don't really know, I replied.
I never thought to ask.
But I wish to see a dead one, just to believe that it can be so.
But I don't think I could cope with that, if one died near me though.

Swans can't die, I tell myself as I sit here by the lake...

The lake that holds no movement
For all the swans have gone.
But I do not understand,
What in their life went wrong.

Where do swans go to die?
A better place, I bet.
But in the next life, with those swans,
How much better could it get?
Most go through the motions daily
without thinking Sunday 8:30 AM
Walking the park with my dog
I noticed something that seemed off
The kind of thing you can’t put your finger on
It’s a feeling a thought something
that made me turn and look again

A White middle-aged man heavyset
Wearing a white ill fitted dress shirt,
a red tie  Solid black dress slacks
It’s Sunday OK I could believe that
He had the hand of a little girl five maybe six
She was dressed in really short Daisy Duke jeans
A white tank top with flowers
Her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail
Low at the base of her neck

Her head forward eyes fixed the ground
When somebody passes by I give the
Standard Greeting Hello good morning.
He replied good morning.

It’s what the child did behind her back.
That panicked me to the core
I needed to see it once more
She had left hand behind her back, her thumb in towards touching her palm
She was moving her little fingers in and out
Slow determination with urgency first,
I wasn’t sure what I saw

She looked over her shoulder
Then quickly , looked down at her hand,
Returning it behind her back and then
Glancing at him afraid he might see
head forward eyes to the ground
****** features emotionless frown
Not a word spoke, but you saw
something in her eyes  Fear
Almost a tear
The movements of the hand quicker
Fingers wider thicker
each time she looked behind at me
Attempting to get my to see
There was no interaction between
the adult male and the child except
for his controlling grip on her right hand

Next to the swings
There was this makeshift square blue tarps
Fashioned into an enclosure
He extended his hand and the hand of the little girl towards the enclosure.. A hand emerged from the within without the rest of the person being seen.
Again, her hand quickly extending and closing wildly gesturing now frantically apparent
The little girl disappeared in the enclosure

The man maintained distance waiting in silence
There were two young adult white, male and female, tattoos up and down their arms with them
Three children all boys, different ages I’m guessing
7,9,10  silent
They did not wiggle, or giggle .they did not do anything, but stand perfectly still.
Honestly I did not notice that at first.
My mind was fixated on the little girl

I approached them and said do you see that man and the little girl?  something seems off.
I explained to them about the distress hand signal
Taught to the children in schools in case they were ever abducted we’re in a situation they felt they could not speak and we’re not safe.

The young adult female unfazed said well he’s part of our church. Not They (the little girl) but He’s
I said something’s off. I hope I’m wrong
but there’s something wrong with this picture.
The the young adult woman offered no explanation or seemed concerned for the little girl’s safety .

The young adult man said nothing looked away avoiding eye contact
The three boys kept their heads
forward eyes downward
The park was empty
There was not a group of church people around
the park, it was this couple, the three boys and the man with a girl. All white.
I am not one who looks at color
however the police need
A full accurate description

I turned to the man standing there
waiting for the little girl and said
What church are you with?
He replied, LDS
I looked right in his eyes and said
that girl is in distress. There’s something wrong.. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t express concern.
. His mannerism was rigid.
My heart already pounding.

I wasn’t sure what to do.
I told him something‘s feels wrong
I offered him an opening to ease my suspicion
If everything was fine,
A normal response would’ve been
Him yelling, telling me off or
to mind my own business or
To reassure me, everything is fine Or
At least to ask me why I feel this way

Silence was not the correct response for the situation that I was escalating. I wasn’t yelling.
My voice was excited and loud I was shaking
This is where I made a mistake that could have caused those children their lives
I told him I’m going to make the call still nothing
I walked away and I was on the phone with 911

Looking right at the man
describing his features To 911 dispatch
I should not have alerted them that I was calling the police that gave them ample time
to Leave To get away

My husband said they would not do anything in broad daylight too much exposure

When the police got there, of course they were gone. That little girl‘s face etched in my memory
silent rage behind her fearful eyes.I failed her.
The police asked was the dad abusing the girl
He did not say he was the father. I told the police.
I didn’t witnessed any physical abuse.
Then what made you think something was wrong?

The little girl was doing that hand gesture they teach the children in school if they’re abducted or something’s not right oh, he said.
as if not fully impressed. I said I’ve been coming to this park for over 20 years. I have children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. I know when something‘s off and there was something off with that little girl.

We were finishing our walk as the Police Man investigated minutes only the whole situation plays over in my mind..  had I been more inquisitive to see what car they drove.
LDS little girls don’t dress like that
especially on Sunday.

I wonder
What was behind that Blue square tarp enclosures. Who was the person that pulled her in?

There’s a group of people who said on the bench passing out flyers for their church the watchtower. I told them about what I observed, and one of the ladies was quick to say just because that man said he was LDS doesn’t mean he really was and she started to tell me everything wrong with that picture. Another man at the market walking me to my car stated he saw a man dress like that. It’s one of the scams they use their dress like a business person saying they’re out of gas. They left their wallet at home whatever the story is very but they’re dressed like business men so they don’t appear homeless and are more likely to get what they want or to be seen blending in. The store clerk said stay away from those guys they’re evil.

This is a cautionary tale. We need to be observant to our surroundings children’s lives are at stake.
The children in the school district are taught survival should you get lost in the wilderness in May? They go for a week at West camp. They’re taught how they could survive with a pine tree eating the bark drinking pine tea noodles where is north south east and west and what to look for when lost Basic survival. They are also taught in the event. They are abducted. You put your hand behind your back put your thumb towards your palm and you move your finger in and out when you can’t use your words this movement behind your back can alert people walking by that you’re not safe. There’s actually a corridor that starts in Sacramento works its way up towards our area traffic‘s the children in our small community and using our hotels and taking them up to Reno in Vegas never to be seen again. It’s called the look twice program. Only one time had I experienced this in our Market. Looked about 13 or 14 year-old Dressed in a **** Catholic school outfit thigh, high socks, really short skirt and a white button up blouse. But what really gave it away was the wig she was wearing it looked like the wig of a middle-aged woman. And having children and grandchildren, her attire would never be permitted in school. She was standing by the ice cream. I went up to her and asked her if she was OK and I was gonna get some ice cream for my grandchildren and what kind would be a good kind before she could say a word this man came and grabbed her and pulled her forcibly down the aisle. By the time I got up to the front desk, there were six other concerned parents, the police were called. The child was saved, and the man was put in jail the look twice program,
That was years ago. I certainly have never come across something with children so young I am one that minds my own business but when it comes to children, I’m a grandma the whole thing just gives a sick pit in my stomach, wondering where those children are tonight.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 29
I have never been to Alabama, or…
<>
I have never been to Alabama,
or where
Immortality
reigns supreme,
but I am told here and there
nooks and looks of poetry
reside abide and
ENLIVE,
And sadness is banished,
loneliness impossible,
&
Loveliness abounds,

And every poem
Gets a sun,
Becomes a star,
And every poem,
Is immortalized

And those who choose
to compose, selves to expose,
become angels protecting all who write poetry in their hearts,
but
who cannot nor,
dare to share
<>
but
they share with them...
who in turn
share to all
the confidence of
Comfort
[1] though I have been to Georgia, where are angels I have met, and regularly converse and reverse poems of love and respect
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