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Nat Lipstadt Mar 2015
(I love) Dignity

tearing words apart,
a part
of  a joy I cannot
explain or share exactly

knew a man once,
forty two years gone,
died too soon enough,
soon enough,
he and I will be
the same age

this man
a duck out of water,
a stranger in an adopted land,
trouble-stooped, a hard life, well lived,
never bent,
dignified in every step

I cannot remember him
ever kissing me, tousling my hair,
holding my hand, loving me in
a manner I wanted beyond  desperately

yet here I am, 5:22 am
weeping tears recalling him
in glimpses long ago seen,
adding them all up to get a
single sum


tearing words apart,
a part
of a joy I cannot/explain,
share precisely

chambered memory storage units,
unlocking those rusted locks with freshly oiled
and loving the dignity he exampled

to the son he could not kiss, hand hold,
but taught him the one lesson, digging deep
to respect life and stand apart,
stand with dignity.

all else will follow

the son kissed his children plenty,
in a vain attempt to make up his missed

now the grandfather,
now the grandfather
is still kissing
his last hope, his newest babes,
rolling on the floor,
so silly kissing belly buttons,
smelling their skin repeatedly,

in a manner most

still weeping
the son,
he tries to sort it out

and forgives and does not forget
the man that taught dignity
in everything,
even, especially,
in slow dying,

forty two years is a long time to wait
to weep.

it takes two hands in the dark
to collect all the waiting patiently
wetness and the
accompanied sniffles,
so undignified,
the son smiles at himself
declaring unabashedly,
digging out from himself
a poem, a self-reflection
on time tarnished reflections
clear enough to make him

I love dignity.
for my father...
Your dignity should reflect, everything you are.  If you use it wisely, you will go very far.
Your dignity should reflect what you stand for; no matter what is said.  It will cause you to soar high; far above others head.
Your dignity will help you, and allow you to excel.  It will prevent you from troubles; encouraging you not to fail.
Your dignity will precede you, giving directions ahead.  It will give you knowledge, so follow while being led.
Always keep your dignity; regardless what others do.  Having a sense of dignity, will  always carry you through.
By, Sandra Juanita Nailing
Leo  Jan 2018
Traffic Lights
Leo Jan 2018
My New Year’s Eve
was spent
collecting fragmented recollections
to confirm
that my dignity
had truly died.

I perused
the bars and clubs,
and walked aimlessly
up and down crowded streets,
feeling like my life
had somehow
been shifted
into slow motion,
while the rest of the world,
engaging in joyous celebration
and ffestivities,
was knocked out of rhythm
from my existence.

How in the world
could the clock strike midnight?
How could people embrace, and kiss
at the dropping of the ball?
How could they laugh and smiile,
and wish each other a “Happy New Year!”?

More importantly,
how could those ******* traffic lights
have the audacity
to continue changing
from red to ggreen to yellow,
then back to red again.

My dignity had just died.
My dignity had just died.
My dignity was dead.
My dignity was gone.

In the days and weeks
that followed the death of my dignity,
I noticed
that life faded
from colloquial to iconic,
like something mystical,
or an intangible object
of deep longing.

And recurrent images
of those *******
obnoxious traffic lights
switching colors
replay in my mind
to remind me
over and over
in the greens (go),
the reds (stop),
and the yellows (be careful),
that my dignity
had died.  
of the ddays
before my dignity had died
run through my mind
like old home movies
with centuries
of black and white film
stuck on repeat,
and slowly fraying,
around the edges,
because of the harsh demands of time.

It is life’s
harsh and cruel irony
that these images,
once my greatest joy,
have now become
of the greatest pain
that I
have ever felt.

Like a sound wave
of pain,
so powerful,
that it has silenced
any other pain
that my heart
has ever heard.

So now I know,
it is true
life is a *****.  

The fading
of my dignity
has made me
overly aware
of the earth
turning on its axis.

As spring approached,
for the very first time,
I noticed
the way the flowers
seem reluctant
to bloom,
as if uncertain
of their
welcome invitation.

Such a cruel reality,
that the flowers
would choose
to bloom,
and nature
would choose
to carry on,
further and further
away from the day
that my dignity died.

And still,
to this day,
those ****
traffic lights
keep switching colors