TwentyTwentyONE

The Painter 1/31/21 Outside a riviera cafe Just a whistle from the water Crystal blue serenity calls It’s only a moment away The pleasant scent of flowers abounds They cascade and billow behind Blossoms and vines in every hue Their petals softly draping down A fat cat purrs upon the ledge Without a worry in the world A belly full of treats and milk All of its needs fully met A man and his brush sits there all day Creating a world so divine All who pass by quickly do stop To see what the painter conveys With a flick of his wrist And a dab of his brush He conjures the painting to life.

Watching 1/30/21 I can feel her watching me. I’m not sure why she would be. Doesn’t she realize she’s staring? Maybe it’s not me she’s looking at. Maybe she’s looking through me. No it’s me. I’m certain it’s me. Do I look strange to her? Do I look familiar? Someone from her past, maybe? Is she judging me? Is she fantasizing about me? Maybe she thinks I’m ugly. Or fat. Or clumsy. And disheveled. What do I care? Why should I care? She’s a complete stranger. Her opinion means nothing to me. So why is it bothering me so much? Is there a chance she’s admiring me? I doubt it. But maybe.

Castles in the Clouds 1/29/21 You said only castles live on clouds. A joke. A casual, almost instinctual, knee-jerk comment. I felt the world cave in around me. A knife. A dagger, cruel and intentional and I stopped dreaming.

Braids 1/29/21 It’s as if that road trip happened yesterday and 100 years ago. We were going home from a holiday at family’s. We were in the back seat. Air Supply was on the radio. You started braiding my hair. It was only slightly wavy and very long, down to the bottom of my butt, back then. By the time you finished, I had dozens of tiny braids all over my head. A miniature Bo Derek with incredibly crooked teeth. These days, my teeth are straight and my hair is curly. The teeth, the result of years of hideous and painful braces. The hair, I blame you and those braids.

conflict 1/28/21 the calm and the chaos stake their claim

Unmet 1/25/21 Many years ago desires were many needs insatiable. As time passed and they remained unmet each began to retreat submerging into the deep, warm comfort of the chest. There, they stay shy, silent partners of actions resisting the impulse to be noticed or heard. Every so often they peak around the soft flesh of the heart peering out to a now unfamiliar world butterflies in their stomachs afraid to reveal themselves. All the while hoping they’ll be seen hoping they’ll be indulged. Eagerly, they wait tapping their fingers generating an almost imperceptible jolt that once again goes unnoticed. As they’ve done many times before they retreat into the empty space of the soul.

A Fairy Tale for Kathie 1/26/21 Your dusty blonde hair has given way to silvery strands that have even more a mind of their own than your uncontrollable curls ever did. Your smile has long ago created a framework of wrinkles around your laugh. Your eyes can no longer see the letters on the page in your hand. Though your grandchildren have long since learned how to say “Grandma”, they still call you “Gimma”. Your heart swells with emotion when they do. You feel the faint syncopated rhythm that reminds you of the close call you had years ago. You exhale deeply and sigh as gratitude and relief washes over you.

Unmasked 1/25/21 With my mask half-heartedly hanging on my chin, I go out to the world. My freedom to choose to breath far surpasses your lack of freedom to chose not to.

Masked 1/25/21 We only see each other’s eyes and make a connection, try to at least. We talk for hours, never having seen our lips move. When we meet again, neither is certain we’ve ever met before. We begin again from the beginning as if nothing had ever happened.

The Fall 1/24/21 Snap! The branch breaks off cleanly falling to the ground hitting its brothers and sisters along the way tumbling left to right bouncing as if it were climbing back up to its original mount then falling again slamming into the trunk then falling away rolling down caressed by the soft grass below waiting to be discovered.

Creation 1/23/21 The creation in your mind is the manifestation of the creation of your mind

Suicide Suite 1/23/21 Dead. Alone. Unknown. Eternal.

Stream 1/21/21 Up and down they go, flapping around the sky with all the vitriol of a life gone by without meaning or love or hate or disgust.

Token 1/14/21 In my palm, he placed the handsel. It was the most humble of things and most unexpected gesture. Our lives had been lead hand in hand for many years, too many to blindly and coldly walk away. But that’s exactly what I needed to do. We both knew it to be true. When I opened my fingers and saw the paper flower, a reminder of when we first met, that unusually cold and wet September afternoon, when all the summer flowers had long since died, I gasped and shed a single tear as I turned and walked away.

Tonight, The Light Shines 1/20/21 As I drove past our nation’s capitol, the Washington Monument and the Capitol Building illuminated across the Potomac, I felt the pride of my country once again. What had been an insufferable era of division and divisiveness looming and growing, evolving into a brand of brazen hatred, was finally being quelled, called out for what it was. The hatred and anger still there, waiting for the right time to rear its head and attempt the self-righteous, self-centered, self-fulfilling destruction of everything it can’t control and conquer it longs for and feeds on. When it does, it will not be met with the open arms of complicit and complacent conspirators, too tired and too afraid to stand their ground that once stood by and said nothing. It will be forced back into its cave, out of the sunlight, away from any nourishment of negativity it needs. Tonight, the light shines on our nation’s capitol in spite of the darkness it fights.

Untitled 1/19/21 You sit in the sunlight still.

Tender Prey 1/18/21 She was sick when he came to her with the guise of caring for her. She believed him She trusted him. He had been a trustworthy man. Decent. Married. Children. Kind. The last thing she expected were his hands on her body. Yet, there they were. There she was. Fever. Nauseous. Weak. Naive. Unable to think. Unable to comprehend that he was just like every other man. As she felt his hands work their way under the elastic of her underpants, instinct took over. Even as her body also wanted to betray her, she grabbed his hand, immediately stopping the advance. Regret took control of his face as he retreated.

Sensitive 1/17/21 Her face was riddled with blackheads. Uncomfortable at best, she would’ve hated them intensely. All I could do was try. As I worked the largest ones, her pain was obvious. Sensitive even when sedated. I stopped but kept cleaning her with just a wet cloth. It seemed the kind of thing a nurse should be doing, but they were busy keeping her alive.

Scars 1/16/21 The first is on my thumb. A small mark from a simple mistake. Avoidable by all accounts. The second are across my stomach. Three slash marks, an ignorant teenage prank gone wrong. Embarrassing to admit. The third is on my chest. A disappearing dot, evidence of an insatiable itch. Lasting reminder of impulse. The last is on my heart. A gash from a lesson learned.

Sculpted by Scars 1/15/21 That knife that you twisted in my ribs Did not kill me. It opened a gash that let your evil flow out and oxygen flow in. The bullet you shot through my heart Did not kill me. It pierced the armor holding my emotions at bay. The bag you held over my head Did not kill me. It forced me to fight for every ounce of air I breathed.

Snuggery 1/14/21 In the corner, amid the fur covered pillows and the plush blankets, she curled up with a book she hoped would take her away to a place of love and peace and a glass of wine she hoped would enable her to float there with the ease of a single feather on a cool summer breeze.

Little Ones 1/13/21 What is it you want     little ones? To be left alone     or unending attention? Are you dancing     down there Or doing cartwheels? What is it you want     little ones? To move onward     or sit idle? Are you pounding     your fists Or shaking your legs? Speak to me little ones. Cry me your troubles. Sing me your joys.

Out of Reach 1/12/21 Tentacles outstretched as far as they can reach in all directions slowly undulating wanting to touch the glass enclosure. Onlookers just beyond. Falling just inches short unable to move from its nest resolved to to its own solitude. Undetectable tears float away.

Eyes 1/8/21 She cried. Tears rolled down her cheek. Without words, he heard everything she said. He called for the doctor.

Devil’s Eyes 1/10/21 Iris green filled with the flickering of a devil’s flame.

Walk With Me 1/8/21 Walk with me Along the water’s edge Hold my hand

Consequence 1/7/21 Crowds gathered Rage in their hearts Shots fired

Delivery 1/7/2021 One year ago, We said good bye to you. Just two days before, You and I watched your favorite show together. We agreed that the young couple should adopt the blind dog. They did. It was a happy ending for humans and canines. It was the last time we’d speak. Hours later, you couldn’t breathe. Air pockets were trapped in your lungs. The only two options:     Release them. You might die.     Don’t release them. You will. We released them. Your body didn’t care. All the battles and arguments your heart, mind and body had had all came down to that moment. The body won. And then the body lost. Once the heart and mind had begun losing their will, their determination, the body saw the opening; a gash, 6 centimeters wide that allowed all its destructive forces in. Nine months earlier, you were home. You spent the day in bed, barely eating. You were not well. I tried to help as best I knew how. You had forgotten your meds. Again. You had not eaten. A...

Power 1/4/2021 You sit there all proud and smug! You think you are better than everyone. Why? Because you (think) you have power over them? You have nothing! I have the power! I am the one who allowed you to sit on that throne! I am the one who escorted you in! And it is I who will escort you out.

Skeletons 1/4/2021 That’s not a skeleton. That’s not a closet. That’s a necklace of teeth you proudly drape around your neck.

Illumination 1/4/2021 When the light is turned on
 all the spiders and cockroaches scatter. They run to their lairs, leaving behind droppings and empty cobwebs.

2020 Reflections 3 (Hold My Hand) 1/2/2021 I watched you through the window as you tried to remember who I was. Just yesterday, you knew. But then I was able to hold your hand. The simple act of a simple touch brought it all back for you. You’d smile when you realized it was me. Today, I can’t touch you. It’s for your safety, I know. But my heart breaks at the distance between us. The confusion in your eyes paralyzes me. I will read your favorite book to you. I will sing your favorite song for you. I will do everything I can so you remember me and all those who love you. Everything but hold your hand.

2020 Reflections 2 1/1/2021 Nothing, and I mean nothing No words, songs, art, TV, movie Will ever convey life in 2020. Life? That implies living. No. It was existence, survival, barely making it through, watching others not survive, not make it through. Those that didn’t die didn’t quite live. Numbness Melancholy Anger Depression Regret Anxiety Loneliness Restlessness Creativity Desperation Jealousy Insecurity The new norm. Daily battles of self-doubt Constant fear of Well, everything Sickness Job loss Eviction No toilet paper No food Not seeing loved ones Not holding their hand or kissing their forward As they died.

With 2020 in the rear view mirror, I wanted to take a closer look. I first looked back on what was by all accounts the worst year of our lives. With so many emotions and so many memories fluttering around, I had hoped it would be a fairly straightforward exploration. Or at least that I would be swathed in myriad ideas. My experience was probably more similar to coming up for air after being deprived of it for months. At first, the air seems a reprieve, a relief, but it soon becomes the very thing that stifles you.  All that said, I have some deep exploration to do. Will you come along for the ride? 2020 Reflections 1 12/31/2020 Yes. It was the hardest, most trying, decisive, most tragic, most politically charged, racially charged… Hindsight Looking back When I think about it I’m at a loss for words and yet I’m overwhelmed Inundated Thoughts Feelings Emotions My feet are glued Ankle-deep in molasses, No. That’s tar. Hardening around my feet as it Holds me in place. The more I wiggle...