born 1900
when Austria was still a monarchy
    that did not know
    it was approaching its end

growing up as the daughter
of the mayor of a little district town
    big fish in a small pond
educated accordingly
as a ‘higher daughter’

   be a home decorator
   do needlework
   be a gourmet cook
   play the piano
   be a respectable member
       of the community and the parish

when she turned 18
after the end of world war I
the social order for which she had been prepared
simply disappeared

her father became a disillusioned monarchist
the town’s republicans elected a new mayor

she married a railway engineer
who left her after her daughter
    my mother
was born
she managed to survive world war II
as a single mother

watched her daughter
    fall in love with, at Christmas 1946,
    and marry in April 1947
a guy who had just escaped
from a Soviet POW camp
looked like a walking skeleton
       my father
AND
was the son of a communist
who  had survived  world war I
as a POW in Siberia

strange bedfellows

     they used to play cards together
     once a week
     with great gusto

     class warfare
     morphed into social entertainment

both my parents were working
grandmother  led the household
on the side did bookkeeping for local businesses
     to bring in some money
practically raised me and my brother
cared for us when we were sick
taught me to play the piano

was always afraid we would not get
enough to eat

for a while, as a little child,
I slept in the same room with her
and  learned that she had
a wondrously melodious snore
    going over an octave & some such

when, after grade school,
I had to leave at 5.45 am
to catch the train
    pulled by a sturdy steam engine
that took me to the high school  
    50km down the road
she was concerned when I
   rushing out the door
just grabbed parts of the breakfast
she had so lovingly prepared

when I left home for university
she was not happy
when I went to the USA for a whole year
she was disconsolate

she did enjoy her great-grandkids
when they visited, though

too much distance for too long
from the place of her birth
made her uncomfortable
in her later years
she needed a familiar place
that came with its familiar things
to do and know

she lived to be 87

I saw her last
after a second stroke
had mostly incapacitated her

a tiny woman
curled up
waiting to leave us
for a world that finally might heal
the pain and disappointment
she had so bravely mastered
throughout her life

I dream of falling without fear
Off the cliff of safety
Into the clouds of possibilities
That cover the bottom of this
Mysterious darkness
And on the way
I learn to dare and at last hear
True sound of my voice
Certain as never before
I'm alive indeed
To scream of that which
Never left the prison
Of my mind
Embracing those who hear
With open power
Gift to those who stayed behind
Not calculate my steps
Not count my words
To be squarely in the middle
Of that which I cannot feel
Do not belive
I recognize
The voice of truth
When tears hurt my eyes
When urgency to run or grasp
Overwhelms me out of my frozen casket
Not like anyone else
I breathe and see and feel
Presence of those
Who make my soul vibrate
With deepest notes
Worth all the darkness
All sadness
I ever knew
To feel so deeply
No reason can comprehend
But unavoidably I recognize
My destiny on the way to the bottom
When my body
Will breathe no more
But in the last second of my flight
I knew I lived
And loved as hard as I had strength to give
Of myself, inside out

"May one day our lovely ashes
blend in their shades of gray"
–you said, you brave

But in my hand my dear all that remains
–a pile of pale old lovely wishes

I have many fears.

I am afraid of the dark,
I am afraid of rain (or used to be),
I am afraid of abandonment,
I am afraid of who I am when I'm enraged and in a bad place.
Loud noises and yelling freak me out.
I don't like blood or knives running across flesh,
And things with too many legs scare me.

I don't like seeing people in any type of physical pain,
But I've put these fears aside many times.

I'm afraid of being left alone,
Without anything to my name,
Once more.

I'm afraid of investing myself
And it going to waste.
I'm afraid of showing a softer side of myself,
And it being rejected.

But here's a kind word,
And here's a loving gesture,
And here's the feeling of your hand on mine.

And suddenly I'm not scared.
I could do this.
If for you,
If for us,
I can stand up.
I can take the risk of falling,
Jump that cliff,
Spread my wings
And hope I fly,
Hope we fly.

And here I go,
Here I am,
I am flying because I took the risk of loving you,
Trusting you.

And I trust you.
Wholly and entirely,
And I hope and pray
Every ****** day,
That you'll take me as I am
And you have.

And I know I'm an odd one,
But the least I can do is show you
How much I care
Through words and
Metaphor.

But being brave
Has nothing to do with not being afraid.
Being fearless is for the idiotic.
Being brave is seeing the danger,
And going forward anyway.

so in pure
fabled fashion,
at the battle of Haldighati (1576),

Chetak, Maharana Pratap
astride, leapt across
a gaping betwixt two cliffs

and fatally injured,
died a hero,
that

400-odd years later
the Arabian steed
stands stone-cut in Jaipur,

the Maharana
urging him on
to battle,

Chetak,
all set to go
airborne...

Binds you away
Shivering, you just can't sway
These my friend are
The Chains of Misery

Can't get hold of you
Are you free? Hell nou
Feel for yourself
The Chains of Misery

Reshuffle the pieces inside
Time to showoff the might
Now you break away from
The Chains of Misery

|AB|