In
Out
In
Out
Breath.
Remember island life?
Not the tourists' pretend days
of luxury and carelessness
but children in crisp school uniforms
chickens running through the yard
coco bread cooling on the window ledge
and blue sky
pale yellow sheets in the morning breeze
greying clapboards and peeling paint
Remember before the steel and glass hotels lined every inch of beach?
Before pink skins laid across lounge chairs and burned;
their inhabitants calling
"Girl, yes, you. Bring a scotch, plenty of ice;
I don't know how you people stand this inferno"
I remember those cool mornings
when my 15 year-old feet walked slow enough
for you to catch up;
slow enough to find your smile
lagging just a little behind my hopes.
Remember way back to your pressed pants
and polished shoes,
both handed down from your rascal brother.
I can hear pawpaw calling out my name from the doorway
and see the look in your eyes when I step onto the porch.
I was the full sum of your mind
back then.
Can you remember those days before Desmond discovered
that if he swam a 1/2 mile out from the shoreline
he could meet the tour boats
full of drunken revelers on holiday?
Back before he tried that very first time to dive down
as they tossed coins overboard
shouting "deeper, deeper - look at that boy go.
Toss him another, let's see it again"
Before Jimmy, Sonny, Nelson and you joined him
and began to bark like hungry seals;
Loud and guttural sounds
to catch the rich vacationers' attention;
for tossed coins
you suppress the need for air
to the cheers of cold-hearted onlookers.
Those red-brown coins
color of your hands
that buy shoes for our children
and too many beers for your drink
coins that pay for too many red-lipped, smooth-legged women
with soft brown hands
that do for your manhood what these calloused, ragged and worn hands cannot
but the rage running through
your river of veins is never completely assuaged.
No, there is always a little bit of that left for me, eh?
In
Out
In
Out
Breath.
The sun is red in the evening sky
the callaloo has cooled
and the children are ready for bed
In a hour or so I will light the lantern
place it in the window
and search the stars for sleep.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Hello From Indy
Sunday afternoon I grabbed my bags and flew off to Indianapolis and work with my former business partners. We facilitate a leadership institute that is often, according to the participants, life changing and inspiring. The group we are working with this year is really big - in personality and perspective - and I am so honored to be their guide for a few days.
They come from all over the country, are male and female and, through hard work, have escaped poverty, abuse and low expectations. They are extremely intelligent and powerful, angry and gentle, hopeful and expectant. They are young and talented. It has done my heart good to be in their presence for the past few days.
On Monday, a number of the men shared their experiences of being pulled over and questioned by police for no reason other than the color of their skin. Several of them cried remembering their anger and frustration; reliving the sense of powerlessness they have endured. One young man said it so well "I feel as if I am always one mistake away from losing everything. No matter how good I am, how much good I do it can all be taken away for no reason."
Imagine living Life with that reality looming overhead.
Sucks, doesn't it?
It is truly time for a change in this country. Now, that may be a current campaign slogan but, I and others have been working towards just that for about 35 years. It's hard to see the generation behind you filled with the same pain that filled your heart; bumping up against many of the same barriers that barred your path.
Things change and yet, they remain the same.
Well, I'd better get ready for another day in Indy. I'll write more when I return home.
Until then, may each and every day be better than the day before it, every smile fuller, every laugh deeper.
They come from all over the country, are male and female and, through hard work, have escaped poverty, abuse and low expectations. They are extremely intelligent and powerful, angry and gentle, hopeful and expectant. They are young and talented. It has done my heart good to be in their presence for the past few days.
On Monday, a number of the men shared their experiences of being pulled over and questioned by police for no reason other than the color of their skin. Several of them cried remembering their anger and frustration; reliving the sense of powerlessness they have endured. One young man said it so well "I feel as if I am always one mistake away from losing everything. No matter how good I am, how much good I do it can all be taken away for no reason."
Imagine living Life with that reality looming overhead.
Sucks, doesn't it?
It is truly time for a change in this country. Now, that may be a current campaign slogan but, I and others have been working towards just that for about 35 years. It's hard to see the generation behind you filled with the same pain that filled your heart; bumping up against many of the same barriers that barred your path.
Things change and yet, they remain the same.
Well, I'd better get ready for another day in Indy. I'll write more when I return home.
Until then, may each and every day be better than the day before it, every smile fuller, every laugh deeper.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Late Nite Without Letterman
I shouldn't fantasize about you again;
enough should be enough.
We've had our brief time for this year
or maybe these years
so, my mind needs to find a new focus;
needs to shift into another gear.
Instead, I am betrayed
by a steadfast Love
which will not fade,
nor gracefully whither
even after decades of your intermittent presence.
Desire for you should have dissipated
into the Life that surrounds me
So that, at 2:00 am,
I would be sorry that I could not clearly recall your face,
wistful, that my memory is not quite as sharp as it once was,
I would be drowsy and dropping back into a sound sleep.
Oh, but the gods are full of folly and tricks!
Because, at 3:30 am
(having felt every passing moment)
not only can I recall the tiniest lines
edging out from your dancing eyes but,
I can feel your hands trail lightly across my stomach,
inching slowly towards our desire.
A sudden jolt
and I am at a loss to explain the fear that stabs me.
Perhaps one of us will suffer a serious illness,
or you will grow distant
or some far worse fate that
leaves me
with only my memories
and no possible future where my dreams might,
once again,
have Life.
It is this thought that causes me to sit up
and turn on the laptop
so its clicking keys can record the insanity
which threatens to consume me tonight.
I want to act my age or,
at least act rationally,
and I fear there is no way
to overcome these feelings
of lust, of longing and of love,
except to quietly live my way through them.
(Sigh)
It would be alright,
I suppose,
if I thought you were having a similar experience.
But, Life has brought you complex preoccupations;
big ticket items like elder care, retirement,
and an abundance of middle-aged women.
Besides, you are logical and rational;
you will simply accept this most recent separation
and go about your daily tasks;
making your fun.
(I sometimes wonder
if the time we spend apart ever nips at you)
No,
you,
I am sure,
are sleeping like a log -
a fearless,
sexy,
and loudly snoring log.
If there be any mercy in slumber let it find me...
Ha!
There is no use for this obsession
nor, it seems,
remedy either;
except to hit the save button,
warm a glass of milk and
shimmy deep,
under the covers,
with hope
alone.
Commentary:
This is a tongue-in-cheek piece about how our mental constructs/emotions get in our way. And, sometimes, even when we are aware of it, we can't seem to change them. Or, at least, they take longer to change than we would like. So, we pine and fret and, when consciousness finally starts to rise, we laugh at ourselves and our predicament.
Here's hoping that whenever you are stuck in thought or deed a smile is close to your lips.
enough should be enough.
We've had our brief time for this year
or maybe these years
so, my mind needs to find a new focus;
needs to shift into another gear.
Instead, I am betrayed
by a steadfast Love
which will not fade,
nor gracefully whither
even after decades of your intermittent presence.
Desire for you should have dissipated
into the Life that surrounds me
So that, at 2:00 am,
I would be sorry that I could not clearly recall your face,
wistful, that my memory is not quite as sharp as it once was,
I would be drowsy and dropping back into a sound sleep.
Oh, but the gods are full of folly and tricks!
Because, at 3:30 am
(having felt every passing moment)
not only can I recall the tiniest lines
edging out from your dancing eyes but,
I can feel your hands trail lightly across my stomach,
inching slowly towards our desire.
A sudden jolt
and I am at a loss to explain the fear that stabs me.
Perhaps one of us will suffer a serious illness,
or you will grow distant
or some far worse fate that
leaves me
with only my memories
and no possible future where my dreams might,
once again,
have Life.
It is this thought that causes me to sit up
and turn on the laptop
so its clicking keys can record the insanity
which threatens to consume me tonight.
I want to act my age or,
at least act rationally,
and I fear there is no way
to overcome these feelings
of lust, of longing and of love,
except to quietly live my way through them.
(Sigh)
It would be alright,
I suppose,
if I thought you were having a similar experience.
But, Life has brought you complex preoccupations;
big ticket items like elder care, retirement,
and an abundance of middle-aged women.
Besides, you are logical and rational;
you will simply accept this most recent separation
and go about your daily tasks;
making your fun.
(I sometimes wonder
if the time we spend apart ever nips at you)
No,
you,
I am sure,
are sleeping like a log -
a fearless,
sexy,
and loudly snoring log.
If there be any mercy in slumber let it find me...
Ha!
There is no use for this obsession
nor, it seems,
remedy either;
except to hit the save button,
warm a glass of milk and
shimmy deep,
under the covers,
with hope
alone.
Commentary:
This is a tongue-in-cheek piece about how our mental constructs/emotions get in our way. And, sometimes, even when we are aware of it, we can't seem to change them. Or, at least, they take longer to change than we would like. So, we pine and fret and, when consciousness finally starts to rise, we laugh at ourselves and our predicament.
Here's hoping that whenever you are stuck in thought or deed a smile is close to your lips.
Friday, June 13, 2008
A Love Note to My Father
Last month, as Mother's Day began to draw near, I found myself focusing on fathers. The father of my youth began to play in my mind and hasn't yet let go.
My Dad, who Loved me (and my brother) with a passion far beyond his passion for anyone or anything else, was a conflicted and angry man. Some people manage Life's hardships and knocks with grace and patience. My Dad wasn't one of those. He was quick witted, intelligent and (I have come to believe) abused by his mother. (Those of you who have been hanging out with me for a while know that he was a son-of-a-b_tch to my Mom.)
Dad ran away when he was 13 and sailed U.S. merchant ships around the world several times. I can still remember his outrageous stories of serving as a first cook. The battles and triumphs of men, on those ships, which were not designed for combat (though they served during WWII), but whose sailors were away from home and from tenderness for long stretches of time, were my fairy tales. I think those stories were the source of my wanderlust; they were the stories of the first man I ever Loved, Daddy, and of my Godfather. My Godfather Sammy was one of those sailors too, tall and handsome, he was the second man I fell in Love with - I think I was 5, at the time.
There was something about the way Sammy walked and talked, the way his eyes shone when he lifted me into the air on those rare visits to our home. Godfather Sammy stayed in the Merchant Marines for about 20 years after daddy came home to raise a family. It was my father's supreme sacrifice to give up the sea (after a 20 year love affair with her) and he never once said that he regretted it.
These two men were best of friends and, when Sammy was there, our home was full of energy, back slaps, scotch, laughter and often intense political discussion. I would sit and listen until the talk became so bawdy that daddy would tell me to go outside or upstairs to my room to read. I always snuck quietly down one or two of those steps, where I would sit, hidden by the living room ceiling and listen to those two bass voices share what men who Love each other share - the truth, the past and hope for the future.
I learned on those steps that my father was so much more than the man who worked, drove me to school, got drunk on the weekends and constantly argued with my mother. He was even more than the man who Loved me first and best, more than the postal supervisor role he played 5 nights a week; my father was his unique self when Godfather Sammy blew into town.
As an adult, looking back, I realize that the Life my father lived for the 17 years I lived with him was not the one he had dreamed. I know he was happy to be a Dad to my brother and I and that he would have walked through hell with and for us. But, I am often reminded that he left the Life he Loved for us. And I think that was the source of his anger, at my Mom anyway. They had agreed not to have children and she went ahead and "got pregnant". Yeah, I know, hard to do by yourself. But, she felt he blamed her.
For Daddy, it was the end of Life as he knew it and that was hard. It was equally as hard when Mom decided she was tired of being his excuse for all things bad and left (go Mom!). And, as is often the case in break-ups, he found his freedom and Love of Life again.
He met a woman that was to be his companion until his death and they shared everything. He began to travel again and helped her raise her daughter. He got to be a father and be free, simultaneously. Sweet.
So, it's Father's Day and many of you Dads (Eric, Paul, Michael, Bruce, Jarrod, and all the rest of you Dads - you know who you are) will be honored on Sunday. We will thank you for your Love, patience, hard work and solid shoulder. We will honor those Daddies who have passed on, laughing as we remember the days they shared with us and shedding a tear or two as well.
Long ago, I was a Daddy's girl and I suspect I still am.
Happy Father's Day, one and all.
My Dad, who Loved me (and my brother) with a passion far beyond his passion for anyone or anything else, was a conflicted and angry man. Some people manage Life's hardships and knocks with grace and patience. My Dad wasn't one of those. He was quick witted, intelligent and (I have come to believe) abused by his mother. (Those of you who have been hanging out with me for a while know that he was a son-of-a-b_tch to my Mom.)
Dad ran away when he was 13 and sailed U.S. merchant ships around the world several times. I can still remember his outrageous stories of serving as a first cook. The battles and triumphs of men, on those ships, which were not designed for combat (though they served during WWII), but whose sailors were away from home and from tenderness for long stretches of time, were my fairy tales. I think those stories were the source of my wanderlust; they were the stories of the first man I ever Loved, Daddy, and of my Godfather. My Godfather Sammy was one of those sailors too, tall and handsome, he was the second man I fell in Love with - I think I was 5, at the time.
There was something about the way Sammy walked and talked, the way his eyes shone when he lifted me into the air on those rare visits to our home. Godfather Sammy stayed in the Merchant Marines for about 20 years after daddy came home to raise a family. It was my father's supreme sacrifice to give up the sea (after a 20 year love affair with her) and he never once said that he regretted it.
These two men were best of friends and, when Sammy was there, our home was full of energy, back slaps, scotch, laughter and often intense political discussion. I would sit and listen until the talk became so bawdy that daddy would tell me to go outside or upstairs to my room to read. I always snuck quietly down one or two of those steps, where I would sit, hidden by the living room ceiling and listen to those two bass voices share what men who Love each other share - the truth, the past and hope for the future.
I learned on those steps that my father was so much more than the man who worked, drove me to school, got drunk on the weekends and constantly argued with my mother. He was even more than the man who Loved me first and best, more than the postal supervisor role he played 5 nights a week; my father was his unique self when Godfather Sammy blew into town.
As an adult, looking back, I realize that the Life my father lived for the 17 years I lived with him was not the one he had dreamed. I know he was happy to be a Dad to my brother and I and that he would have walked through hell with and for us. But, I am often reminded that he left the Life he Loved for us. And I think that was the source of his anger, at my Mom anyway. They had agreed not to have children and she went ahead and "got pregnant". Yeah, I know, hard to do by yourself. But, she felt he blamed her.
For Daddy, it was the end of Life as he knew it and that was hard. It was equally as hard when Mom decided she was tired of being his excuse for all things bad and left (go Mom!). And, as is often the case in break-ups, he found his freedom and Love of Life again.
He met a woman that was to be his companion until his death and they shared everything. He began to travel again and helped her raise her daughter. He got to be a father and be free, simultaneously. Sweet.
So, it's Father's Day and many of you Dads (Eric, Paul, Michael, Bruce, Jarrod, and all the rest of you Dads - you know who you are) will be honored on Sunday. We will thank you for your Love, patience, hard work and solid shoulder. We will honor those Daddies who have passed on, laughing as we remember the days they shared with us and shedding a tear or two as well.
Long ago, I was a Daddy's girl and I suspect I still am.
Happy Father's Day, one and all.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Unfound
Unaffected.
the late spring heat searches
for a way into my sanctuary.
blades spinning overhead
swhoosh layers of cool and conditioned air
down,
down,
down
to play along my open back
Untethered.
laying hereUntethered.
believing in the possibility of lifelines
that connect my world to another's,
without becoming reins
Unspoken.
the fullness of my heart,
likewise, day-to-day comings and goings,
small choices remain mute,
unshared
and undisclosed;
protected information,
safeguarded,
as if government secrets
Unimagined.
break-up, separation, divorce;
what, years ago, seemed like just bumps
on a long and winding road
became a way of living.
This solitary mammalian life
may bring the means of survival but,
there are too few tender joys
and only sporadic couplings
Unknown.
The lines that make up your smile
the pulse and rhythm of your desire
the true hopes of your heart;
what reason has this poetic sojourn?
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Hillary and Obama Make History
Today, I witnessed what I hope is just one of many new firsts. Today a man, whom I believe, represents the best of human values and choices, has become the first black Democratic candidate for President of the United States.
I cannot begin to describe the power and possibility I see within this candidacy. My hope is that his candidacy is the next step in achieving the realization of this nation's promise of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for all its citizens, regardless of gender, color or class.
I was moved by Hillary Clinton's speech today and thankful that she has finally backed the party's chosen leader.
In my heart and Spirit, I pray that Barack Obama will lead us well.
Love to you all...
I cannot begin to describe the power and possibility I see within this candidacy. My hope is that his candidacy is the next step in achieving the realization of this nation's promise of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for all its citizens, regardless of gender, color or class.
I was moved by Hillary Clinton's speech today and thankful that she has finally backed the party's chosen leader.
In my heart and Spirit, I pray that Barack Obama will lead us well.
Love to you all...
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