Posted in a remembrance

Feeling groovy

“feelin’ good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues
― Kris Kristofferson

Come for tea
and I’ll sing for you,
in whiter shades of pale.
I’ll dance like I’m seventeen
and treasure
each detail.

memories of our childhood
beats that bring us joy,
unforgettable melodies
tunes that fill the void.

let’s call on the remembrance
of those timeless beats,
where flower children
danced and sang
and took to the streets…

reminding us that we are lovers
not born for strife,
and together we can live in peace
and do the walk of life!

My tears flow in silence as I think back on those days,
when nothing really bothered us
and we sang to purple rain…

My brother has been on the radio on Sunday afternoons,
it’s always been a dream of his to be a DJ.
Yesterday I found myself taken back to my teenage years
and the feeling was kinda groovy!


Posted in a remembrance

Happy Mother’s day…

“He makes me to lie down in green pastures: he leads me beside the still waters”
Psalm 23

They say only the good die young, but I don’t believe that, I have known some pretty awesome 89 year olds. I think it’s easier to die young because we don’t have to face the aches and pains of old age, and maybe even the loss of our facilities. My Dad used to say that three score years and 10 was good enough for him, he made it to 75.

I remember when the nurse called us to the hospital to say that my Mother was dying, she said my Mother had opened her eyes for a bit and she had the most beautiful eyes, the color of the sky on a cloudless day. I stood at her bedside and begged her to stay, I wanted her to see my babies grow up.

At first she seemed agitated as if she was trying to hold on for us. We asked a priest in the hospital to pray for her and I saw something change in her countenance. She became peaceful, as though there was an angelic presence in the room.
It seemed that something irresistibly beautiful was calling her back to the light. She was only 61.
My Mother had known mental anguish, she had understood abandonment, and I think in that moment she let go of all her suffering, and went home. I think a table had been prepared for her, and she was ready to sup with the Divine.
She was and still is one of the bright lights of my life, and whenever I look up at the pale blue skies I think of her…


Posted in a remembrance

Watching the stars impress the night…

Mother’s day is hard for me and I kind of go into a bit of a decline just before the day.
My son’s friend invited us over to his house. It looks over Lake Pleasant
and we ate Bass and reminisced about my son.
These are the things that get me through the hard times!

In the stillness
at the end of day
I brightened with
each golden ray,
and basked in
the fading light,
and watched the stars
impress the night!

The dark stirred me
into feelings
of bliss,
bringing rhythm
to the tenderness
of being clothed
in forgiving breath,
from the deep wounds
of sudden death.
I revisited light
and thankfulness,
in hideaways
of thoughts


Posted in a remembrance

A dusty road…

A dusty road took me there, to a tin house, unmistakably shanty in appearance, it still had a certain appeal-standing out in the parched scrubland.
Its blushing red roof caught my attention.
There’s no one home now, the shutters are firmly closed and a deep silence rings through the rooftops.
Stillness lies on the soft dune-like earth, where once it bore unrefined food.
A shadowed porch is cool in the summer heat and I can almost hear the echo of Father’s tall tales and the reek of his tobacco.
The outhouse has run dry.
The hallway still remembers the laughter of children and the cockerel crowing in the backyard at dawn. There’s a chimney blackened with soot from an old woodstove.

We had so much time on our hands back then, Mother would peel potatoes to roast with a topside of beef and sip sherry at the kitchen table.
I reached into my memories and remembered when days were simple,
waters were sweet, and the sun sank into my cheeks with no regret.
No-one knew about global warming or ice caps melting then, the TV was black and white, and scratchy records played melodic tunes on the turntable.
The earth was still a wholesome place to live or so I thought as a naïve child.

I played barefoot in the garden, doing ballet on the front lawn
as my brother took snaps.
I watched tiny buds push their way up through the cracked ground
in celebration of a summer downpour.
I’ve reimagined my life that way again, a gaggle of hens
and a flock of ducks clucking away,
scratching the earth for tasty morsels,
pitching their story to me in the late afternoon,
finding a perch before the sun went down, my own little piece of paradise.

I’m ever hopeful of returning to the simple construct of an uncomplicated life, filled with home-grown vegetables, nourishment for the soul, both mental and physical-to a time when we exchanged pleasantries, perhaps even a little gossip with the neighbors and sometimes a cup of sugar or a few eggs.


Posted in a remembrance

Love never dies…

We have a popular car-boot sale here every month where you can sell junk,
it’s like a yard sale and a whole lot of us get together,
and people come and buy our pre-loved stuff.

I have been clearing out
and it is more than just dust and papers,
it’s my heart.
I find photos of Steve
and his twelve-step books,
a valentine card he gave me,
his writings,
and the Egyptian cotton sheets he slept on,
it’s excruciating!
Some things I still hold onto for dear life,
his cricket bat
and his last box of cigarettes.

I know it seems strange
but those were the things he touched
they connect me to him
they are his beloved things,
earthly possessions
that brought him happiness!

raw hurts like crazy
raw breaks me
I clean out these closets of my sorrow
again and again
but they still find me
in the dust
in the tears
disguised as hay-fever
trickling down my face.

they can’t wash me out

I look through old photographs
and fragments of him
and I am destroyed,
I don’t know if I will survive,
but I hear his voice
through the piles of papers
his favorite books,
study notes,
poems he wrote,
through the terrible suffering he endured
and he always forgave
and he still forgives…

and he tells me to do the same!

he lives on in my everyday dreams,
he is the voice in my head reminding me
that everything will be okay,
he’s my teacher,
a guardian of my secrets
freed now from his Earthly pain…

the car boot sale isn’t big enough
to hold my baggage,
to sell it to the next poor unassuming soul.
I am a hoarder of memories
selling them doesn’t feel like a betrayal,
it’s more like the gradual letting go of indescribable pain,
a catharsis,
or maybe it’s just to forget….

these are the things I must do to survive
I will hold this connection in my heart forever
and we will meet again, face to face,
it’s the sacred vow we made together once
long before my memories began…


Posted in a remembrance

The last photograph…

There’s a buzz in the house
and constant chatter,
it distracts me momentarily,
But sorrow lurks
like a raw ache inside me
wanting expression.
I push it down again
for the tenth time!

I don’t want anyone
to see my pain,
and I’m hoping that
the grief that has risen
to my eyes
will go unnoticed…

I need only a few short days
to feel the depth
of this pain
and wallow in it
just a little.

It’s as though my body wants
unbearable sorrow
to sear my flesh
and again
so that I can die to all these fears.

Memories bump together,
the “what ifs”
raise their ugly heads,
and I crash!

I’m biting my lip,
the lump in my throat rises
and I choke back the tears.

These are my sacred memories
they stay alive in me,
reminding me that he once lived
on this earth plain.
I cannot forget a single part of him,
I will not!
I want this to be known,
I want it to hurt me
to the point of ruin
so that I can melt into the ether
and burn with the sun.

It’s hard to share pain,
when the fear of being misunderstood is so real,
and after all who wants a death’s head
at a feast?

So I wait until I can settle into my sanctuary
of holy tears.
In the quietness
I am not ashamed,
there are no prying eyes
reading me
swallowing me in self-doubt!

I stop questioning my beliefs in this holy city
and I accept that I now live in two worlds…

I rejoice in the knowledge
that death cannot separate us,
and I am freed from the abstraction of doubt.

I will make it to the other side of sorrow, because his voice in my head tells me he is always with me…


Posted in a remembrance

Three years…

I’ve had a few hard days, and some have bumped into each other and I lost track of time. Today I commemorate three years since I saw my son in physical form…

CS Lewis said “her absence is like the sky spread over everything”
and yet
I still look for you
in a knowing way,
and you are still here!
What should I believe
in times like these,
when fear is rampant
on the earth?
Should I believe
that death is the end
and you are far from me
across a chasm
Or should that part
deep inside of me
that you still exist
in a higher vibration?

And yes they look at me funny
when I say such things,
but how do they suggest
I survive
without you?
Should I go into the void
and shut myself down
and be ground into the hard
unforgiving soil of life,
or should I embrace
the knowing?

I live here on the earth plain
with humans,
in my physical body
a lower vibration state,
it’s uncomfortable
it sometimes hurts like crazy!
They don’t want to talk
about death
and I’m trying to understand,
in times like these
when death is all around
why not?

I’ve tried to make them
that it’s only in the knowing
that I can breathe,
it’s in the acceptance
of death
that I have survived…
How else
would they suggest
I live?
Gone is not a word I use
to describe you,
absence would be devastation.
It really doesn’t
feel that way!

My mother feels so far from me right now
because I once believed
the lies.
I was never allowed to explore
those unseen, mystical realms
where dead people walk
and fly
and dance
and where they are more alive
than they’ve ever been…

And yet the one they follow came alive on the third day
He rose from the dead,
and he said
we will do so much more
than he did!

Nothing makes sense to me,
if we are just
human flesh
in dense form,
let’s transcend,
and see ourselves
as spiritual beings.
That way we will be able
to drink in this holy love soup
that is all around us,
we’ll swim in it
and float in its pleasure.
We’ll become
of love
when we begin to see
the bright light on the other side…

Why can’t I talk to the dead?
When the dead
are part of me,
my ancestors DNA
brought to life in me,
yet scattered
on the oceans for eternity….

I must survive,
I must let the wind
take me
to where you are,
the currents will shift me
and alchemize my form
into light.
I will see you and you will see me
through butterfly’s eyes
and I will recognize you
in the colors
that are spread across the skies,
as I pick up
heart shaped pebbles
sent by you.
Messengers from the other side
to reassure me
that I am never alone…

Oh to catch sunlight
that has no density,
yet to feel it,
to smell fragrances
but not to hold them
in my hand.
How can they believe
you’re not with me?
Do they not know
it would be the most
unbearable suffering,
if I did not believe
that you are still here with me
guiding me,
watching over me? 


Posted in a remembrance

Seasons of remembrance…

“Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.”
― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie

The lines stare back at me wanting to be heard,
I stumble on my feelings
I grasp for words…

It’s the season of remembrance when hot winds blow,
a return of those moments
when I let you go!

And all I want is
to fade with the light,
to sink into my dreams
on a warm Summer’s night…

There’s a company of angels
motioning me
to breathe,
in the long dark hours
when I lose belief!

with grace they remind me of your invisible form,
the forget-me-nots
that light adorns…

courage is born of an inner knowing,
that the colors of love
are overflowing…

I pray to heaven to return with favor,
to shelter me when my confidence waivers…

your incandescence
can never fade,
as light uplifts me
until the end of my days…


Posted in a remembrance


“Don’t worry about a thing, every little thing is gonna be alright”
― Bob Marley

It’s like the time
when I knew each song,
careless whispers that nothing could go wrong…

music playing on the turntables,
pipe-dreams that have slowly faded…

I danced to the beat
of night fever,
spurned lovers
lonesome dreamers…

Pop-star posters on my walls,
connected with the live applause,
I longed to be a dancing queen,
living inside the silver screen…

rhythm and blues
was my therapy,
the lines of an unchained melody,
finding comfort in soul lyrics,
confessions of a teen spirit…

to learn the truth at 17,
that love was meant
for beauty queens,
a blow for girls with freckled faces,
yoked into a friendless matrix..

I was enthralled by revolution songs, so really, what could go wrong?

I’m still a believer in “one love, one heart
let’s get together and feel alright”…


Posted in a remembrance

My Mother’s eyes…

I lived inside my mother’s eyes,
I drank her tears,
she carried a deep woundedness that stole away the years…

I delighted in her fragrance
the softness of her form,
I inhabited her happiness,
I felt her inner warmth…

She dwelt among mortals
when sorrow came to dine,
there was no celebration, no juniper wine…

She’d lost her melody, her spark of life
buried by loneliness,
her wounds she tried to hide…

she had never been inconstant until that fateful day,
they said she was manic,
and locked her away!

I wish I had moved in
and scattered all her pain,
I wish I had entered the vortex of her shame…

I was there the moment
her life force ebbed away,
I held her gently
and begged her to stay…

on her deathbed her aura became so bright,
her breath eased
as she moved towards the light…

how could I hold her and keep her for my own,
when the table had been set
and she’d seen the glow of home…

without her I was rainless and devoid of faith,
and from my own shackles I needed an escape…

I still feel her legacy
burst inside my breath,
I see her in visions across the veil of death…

she lights up the night skies,
she has become my summer rain,
she’s planted in my spirit,
she trickles through my veins….

the sparkle of her blue eyes always captures my gaze,
through the mists of memory,
in black and white shades…