Song of the day

Song for my Dad

Not a joke: Inspired

Photograph by the prolific Chris Kaan

A man walks into a bar
He is not a priest
He is not a rabii
his nationality does not matter
He does not have a horse
A bear
A naked blonde
Just the man
He sits at the bar and orders a drink
Just a beer
Nothing fancy or humorous
The bartender in reply
He gives him the drink
The man drinks his beer
Eats the sweat and salty peanuts in the dish before him
And tries to not think about his life gone by
Mortality
Regrets

18 Years Ago Today

18 years ago today
I will remember like it was yesterday
Until my last day
18 years ago
I was a teen
In my kitchen, when the phone rang

My sister asleep in her bed. Her two friends asleep in the guest room. It was my mother on the phone.

My sister and I on the phone at once
She said he was on his way out
Dying
We could come and visit my father
But he might hold on in vain
My sister, groggy and disconnected
Ok, we’ll let him go
I had no car no license
I did not want to scream what was in my head
NO!!! GODDAMMIT HE’S MY DAD! GET ME DOWN THERE NOW!!!!
Barely audible I smoothed the feathers and mumbled in assent
The phone went quiet

20 minutes later
18 years ago
Found me on the lanai
Sitting on the wooden deck floor
The phone rang
My sister and I both answered
He was dead
Mother said
Ten minutes before
My father was dead
I walked to my Sister’s room
She stared at the ceiling
Should I wake my friends?
I told her I would
She is three years my elder
I told her friends everything

A few hours later
18 years ago
I am in a van on the way to
A church retreat
It was a weekend overnight, but we knew he was on his way out. Better only go for one day, Sunday.

I showed up
The news had already spread
Like the cancer that killed him
Grown people walked up to me
Wanting to pay their respects
I held them
Over and over
Man woman
I held them as they cried
My father was a Demi-god
A pillar
A deacon

18 years ago found me wandering a park with a girl I barky knew
We spoke of nothing of consequence
She did not say sorry
Or bring up my dad even once
We spoke of asinine things
Boys-and-music-and-heartache
Silly things that made me feel like anyone
A normal girl
A human
Normal

18 years ago, dinner time
Found me at the dinner/dance
Two days before, I had major oral surgery
No one knew how long
I would have health insurance
My mouth was swollen
No one had prepared something I could eat
I went to ask for my dinner
Nothing, they had nothing
I tried to hide the tears
I was devastated
I was hungry
I was so angry that no one had taken care of this
I went to the bathroom
I cried for the first time that day
When I came back
I was told, someone had gone to the store for soup
Someone wanted me to dance
His name was Hasani

18 years ago
The sky was dark
I went home
One of my Sister’s friends, also named Sarah
Took me with her to get smokes from the store
In her car
I felt excited that I was allowed to hang around her
And I felt numb
She talked about the things she overheard about my Dad
Things I didn’t want to know
An affair
Another woman?
A man?
I wanted to shout at her to stop
But apathy had spread through my veins
It felt like a sick joke
All of it

When
We pulled up to the house
18 years ago
My father’s car was in the driveway
I was worried we might wake him up
It was late and he was always asleep by ten
I walked in the house quietly
And had the wind knocked out of me
My gaze shot to the back of the house
His door
He was gone
He would never sleep in that room again
He would never drive that car
He would never be uptight
He would never tease me as the tears welled in my eyes
And he would never tickle my legs
Or do the silliest dances
This man that had been in my life
For 16 years was gone
My daddy was gone
18 years ago today

Nightly Words of Wisdom (For My Father)

The Profit on Death by Kahlil Gibran

Than Almitra spoke, saying, “We would ask now of Death.”

And he said:

You would know the secret of death.

But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?

The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.

If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.

For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.

In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;

And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.

Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.

Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.

Is the sheered not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?

Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?

And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

Welcome Home

Reblogged from sarahjaneprosetry:

This is where the sidewalks begin This is where the burgers aren’t greasy At the end of the world malt shop This is where the gods grow like weeks And the sirens sing their songs This is where muses go dancing on a Saturday night And where your primal hunger Meets your civilized culture This is where beautiful souls no longer need To be martyrs Or murdered for truth to reign true This is where echo sing symphonies And symphonies belch the alphabet This is where truth seekers Beauty cravers Happily little beavers And sad bunnies that just want belly tickles Converge This is where artisans Poets Painters Photo takers Tree whisperers Bohemians Dreamers And gigglers Come home…

Read more… 15 more words

I added a painting of mine.

Vacant words

Doodle by me.

I don’t understand carelessness of words
How flippant some can be
How they can talk themselves taller
Or offer you such honest prizes
Of heart and head
Offers of help and generosity
And never deliver
They speak in shoulds and ought to’s
They offer the prettiest words
The pillar of support
But in the end
Words are but words
Not to say words hold no power
Words create spells
Or break them
Words crush spirits
Or ignite them
Actions are their counterpart
The movement of words
And when these words go hollow
Empty
Promises deflate
Integrity dissipates
Trust evaporates
What are we, without our word?

Please go see (not a poem)

Hi all! David Cummins at The Noise of Silence created a poem based off a challenge I gave him; a song and an original work of art by me. Please check out his unique outlook and my painting!

Thanks for your support

Doors: Beautifully alone (inspired)

Inspiring photo by XD Photography

Door
I am not the same as I was
I close after every lover
Changing my lock
So that their key never fits again
They cannot turn me
Open me
Unless I choose to open
But their key will never fit again
I dragged my feet
This last time
On changing my locks
Wanting him to use his key
Turn me
Contact
One last time
But the locksmith has come and gone
His key will no longer fit
We no longer fit
A one man
The idea of the perfect man will no longer fit
My locks have been removed
No longer will I lock my heart away
Awaiting for one man to inspire
One man to make me vibrate bliss
My doors accessible to each moment
Each beautiful soul to share
No romance needed
To savor the experience
My doors accessible
With bolts on the inside
When it is time to be beautifully alone
Quietly me
No converging
Embracing this single entity
Learning how to live in my hallway
Not searching for doors to be open
Beautifully alone

Welcome Home

This is where the sidewalks begin
This is where the burgers aren’t greasy
At the end of the world malt shop
This is where the gods grow like weeks
And the sirens sing their songs
This is where muses go dancing on a Saturday night
And where your primal hunger
Meets your civilized culture
This is where beautiful souls no longer need
To be martyrs
Or murdered for truth to reign true
This is where echo sing symphonies
And symphonies belch the alphabet
This is where truth seekers
Beauty cravers
Happily little beavers
And sad bunnies that just want belly tickles
Converge
This is where artisans
Poets
Painters
Photo takers
Tree whisperers
Bohemians
Dreamers
And gigglers
Come home

Come home in my words
Curl up in my thoughts
Find yourself in these pictures
Share me a glimpse of me
Our souls all fit
In this beautiful jigsaw, life
Come home to these words
That lick your soul
Write, paint, snap a piece
That makes our home bigger
Welcome home
You belong
Welcome home

Airing out the steam

My mind is screaming
Running round in its hamster wheel
Centered rock
The backbone of support
Overwhelmed
I vented to seep out my boiling over
But negativity breeds negativity
When I was done expressing my frustrations
I was a tea bag steeping
Rather than a simmering pot
My stomach sour
My head stern
There is no joy emanating
Only compromised holes
Fertile ground for every negative spot in my mind
Exhale, Sarah
Stretch in center
Awaken your moment
Release the pestilent past
This is my space
My place to find peace
My seductive silence
Time to slip into something a little more comfortable
My authentic self