Last man standing

We became those,

the last standing remnant of yesterday,

dinosaurs of our existence,

caught between a song and today

for there was nothing else

we could fathom.

We were born this way

so the beauty of each song had to say,

voices without faces

it just was the way it was

and we accepted it that way,

For there was no depth,

no stress,

nothing that got caught up in the way,

and we could sleep at night knowing

we were young

unique,

the last man standing

like the birches in the meadows,

peeling from the outside in,

the scent deep on the air,

we were just that

simplistic like a memory,

got caught in the way.

I sit here today,

the jasmine heavy on the air

like thoughts on the mind,

and tomorrow is yet another day

and it will be what it will be,

and somewhere within,

beneath the cuticle that’s torn,

through each bit of ache

we know it will regain

its strength again.

I know not always the right things to say,

I only can feel what flows like a stream-

slipping past the silent trees that watch

like the nightman waiting for drama,

nothing wicked this way comes

except that which we invite with open doors,

and closed minds,

time drifts down as the night has descended

and a sad country song plays on the disc,

why not me?

and I wonder,

why not?

What we know

John told me ages ago,

like an old time story a memory,

you’ve got to hear this,

means so much,

and I hear the voices now in my ears,

thinking back to that moment

years ago,

bringing it all back on this night

as the wind blows from a different vantage point

a bad world, a mad world

and the wind keeps blowing

the jasmine scent

so unlike bombs in the air

eons away

from what I am surrounded by

and so many changes I cannot quite comprehend.

As he falls, I can only sense

the repeat performance

from so very long ago,

the story of the loss of a man

just like us but not just like us

and I watched his face as he watched mine

above the table each night as he dined

amongst the family that fell

apart one by one

year by year

becoming a story in of itself

of no revelevance

except for those who lived

beneath his stoic gaze.

Did you know I hated him?

For what he couldn’t hold together

and did you know

some days

I hate him still,

although not such a strong hate,

just a mere disinterest at times,

because he represents

something beyond my circle of thought,

like a passing gaze at an accident

that couldn’t help but to happen

but I know he doesn’t condemn,

so not his style,

cause I can listen to my voices,

my Elouise and my Sheldons

who are mired at times where I reside,

and I know we keep company

with this kind soul who could never judge,

after all,

we do enough of that ourselves.

When I ask,

those questions that swirl when I anger,

when patience just doesn’t find me

in it’s eager way,

and the swearing mind has it’s way,

although never leaving the lips,

just the mind, mind you,

it lends itself to its own stories,

tells its own tales…

quite good at that by the way,

but I can still see in my little girl mind,

a man on an ass,

a donkey if one would expect correctness,

who plodded on,

knowing,

expecting,

enduring,

and I wonder why I can’t be

as strong

as humble

as loving

as gentle

and I know because he tells me,

with time it comes,

the acceptance of what is to come

to one

to all

and I’m okay then,

and I can close my mind off

and shut off the noise

and just cry in my silence

for a man who died

like a hundred thousand others

before I became a heartbeat

and I know I am blessed

for he tells me

as no one else

could ever do.

This is his image I knew

and know to this day,

while ghosts haunt me

I still can’t help but to remember

for it was drilled like an endless test,

what we try to escape

will always circle round

to find us in our weakness

and sometimes playing possum

is better than answering the questions

told with angry eyes,

why can’t you be?

why can’t you just tow the line.

the image that watched me eat, sleep, live….tucked away for years after the fact….I needed no reminders for he dwelled deep within….I still need no reminders, better to leave me to worship in my own way as I chose. One chokes when force fed….I know a few will understand. ❤