You never met your paternal Grandfather, her husband and your Dad’s Father. All your Dad told about him was that he died while potting the eight-ball in a game of pool; it occurs to you that there’s an explanation (other than your misspent youth) for your prowess with a pool cue and your chronic sense…
Category: Grief
It’s Not All Black and White
“There is a grief
Carried in my bones forever
So profound that I fear
If I meet it fully I will die.”
Genie
She told me her story. How her mother got her addicted to meth when she was 14. How she single handedly raised her little brother and sister. How her other brother is going to jail. How she is pregnant. “But don’t worry” she says… It’s from a previous relationship. Before I met your son. I…
The Spirit of Palm Beach
I’ve been tempted to judge myself as desperate and needy, indulging Mills and Boonesque fantasies of a romance with the ghost of a troubled surfer-boy from Palm Beach.
BLOODLETTING
To my relief
she listened
And I dropped in..
Past the anger
Past the anguish
Down, down, down
To the grief.
To the very bloodroot of things.
Palmy Boy
As you rode that bike, you head hanging forward…shoulders to your ears..
Skinny jeaned knees splayed …
sun bleached, dirty curls swinging…
You body made you look like you were bracing yourself for impact…
Permanently.
Indelible
I scan the water for his familiar body language. He is a big man who’s weight partially submerges his Malibu as he moves through the water. His paddling style is stiff… the legacy of a shoulder injury many years ago. His bald head pushes through the air like a guided missile. His stance on the…
Resurrecting the Innocent Heart.
I have memories of my early childhood. One was when I wandered into the neighbour’s garden.. I must have been very young because I discovered a plot of different coloured daisies that towered way above me. I was mesmerized and enchanted by such beauty and wonder. In my child’s heart, I had found a magical…
The Nature of the Beast
Through a half-open curtain, he welcomes me… to the stage of his ridiculous theater. My yearning for peace and belonging and the fact that he reminds me of an old friend from Prague has drawn me here… * I tell him my woes, He tells me I am beautiful… as if that is the main…
The Sound of Her Voice 