I think that bird,
Or mutant animal
Is driving me mad.
Disrupting the night.
The whispering breeze
through the branches and
between the houses.
You could hear it circle,
if it weren’t for that
the crickets’ serenade
stuck on one note.
the familiar hum
of a distant train
riding the rails.
I just want
Since we moved from IL in 1996, we’ve lived in the South. First in AZ, where you could comfortably begin getting in your pool in March.
We either had a pool at our apartment, or we ventured to our dear friends house where we hung out and swam all day.
Then we moved to Texas. Again, pool at the apartment. And now a community pool.
As we sat alongside our pool today, I realized that I’ve gone through all of the pool phases.
Toddlers. They jump, pour, and splash. Typically protected with swim rings and swim diaper.
Adventurers. They want to jump into your arms. Over. And over. And over. Just dunk yourself, you’re getting wet.
Play with me. Brothers are too big and swim in the deep end. Floaties or not, he’s just not ready. So you play catch, monkey crawl, and other goofy things.
Independence. They’ve made a friend. Can I swim over there? You let them but watch like a hawk.
Relaxation. He can swim with his brothers. I’m officially boring. Now I can read and just relax. Am I watching? Heck yes. But I’m not too worried.
Do I miss those days? The toddler, needy days. Sometimes. But I really like having adult conversations with them.
It just means my pool days are almost numbered.
I have talked to you about your death
More than anyone else.
It’s true what they say,
You can’t talk about it.
I mean, how do you say it?
My friend is dead.
Because what do you say?
We are so programmed.
My first thought is always,
Do they really go to hell?
It’s no wonder
We have no words.
No one should go to hell
After living a lifetime there.
I’ve learned from you
That you didn’t go to hell.
Your spirit went with the rest,
Wherever you find peace.
Us survivors though,
We need to start talking.
Find the words,
So we can find peace too.
In the end,
That’s what you wanted for us all.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline:
http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
Helpguide.org Suicide Prevention: How to Help Someone Who is Suicidal
American Association of Suicidology: Survivors of Suicide Fact Sheet
American Foundation for Suicide Prevention: Coping with Suicide Loss
I wish you could see
The dancing spirits:
Twinkles of light,
Darting like hummingbirds,
Teasing and taunting.
Seen daily as a child.
Free from dangers,
Aware and listening.
Now, an occasional blessing.
Some days, just a few.
Others, it’s a party:
Dancing twinkles of light.
How I wish you could see.
Empty spaces, where adventures abound,
Memories hold significance,
And secrets linger awaiting discovery
Look at a woman, there’s mystery,
Beauty, life, nurturing, love
But what of her empty spaces, her secrets
The shadows along her neck
Where she nuzzled her husband during intimate evenings
Between her motherly bosom
Where she nourished and comforted her children
The openness of her arms
Where she hugs those who matter most
Between her sometimes stiff fingers
Where the truth of her labors reside
Between her toes, ankles, and knees
Where the frustrations of life dissipate with a good run
The vastness of her soul
Where she wagers to save the world whether they realize it or not