When you miss a person
Remember a time
She made you laugh.
Not the times
She made you cry.
That will make it easier
To forgive her
For the times she made you cry.
Then you will desire
To heal the wounds
Left neglected for so long.
And if the time has passed
For healing wounds,
You will remember her warmly
Because you did share
Love
And peace
And happiness.
Love is an old addiction
And I am in recovery.
Every day I wake up craving it.
It is the first thing.
It is the last thing
I think about.
I think about.
I think about.
And you were my drug of choice.
My drug.
My choice.
Maybe one day,
I will be a servant
To another mistress,
Slave to another’s touch.
But today it is you.
And today
And today
It is you.
Old cravings fade so slowly.
Old desires don’t let go
And I go on
With the hunger,
The yearning,
The pain.
I recently hit a rough spot
In a life filled with rough spots.
In a weak moment,
I told an acquaintance.
She said, “I’ll keep you in my prayers.”
I’ll keep you in my prayers.
That is all she offered to me
In my sorrow and pain.
Now to some that is enough.
A social understanding
That we are all helpless
In a raging shit-storm.
So I will say this phrase
And we can part
And avoid any unpleasantness
And think there is hope.
To me, prayer was always
More for the one who prays
Than for the object of her prayers.
It makes that person focus on a problem
Until a solution appears
Which should eventually lead to an action.
“God, please give me that promotion.”
Eventually, you will realize that
Until you merit that promotion
By going the extra mile,
You don’t deserve that promotion.
And that will change you
Into someone who deserves the promotion.
But does God listen?
“Prayer hotline, this is God,
How can I help you?”
If God is God,
Shouldn’t he already know our sorrow?
Will he help us only if we ask?
And only if we ask in the right way?
Does that mean that God wants us to suffer?
Should a parent not feed her baby
If the baby doesn’t ask?
If God will listen to me, and not to you,
Does that mean that God favors
One person over another?
One group over another?
Does this mean the racists are right?
Of course not.
This is an ego trip,
If you think you have a direct
Hotline to an all powerful being.
Is God your errand boy
And you just give him a honey-do list?
If you must pray,
Ask for guidance
On how you could help,
And then help.
And the next time someone
Tells you their sorrow,
Ask, “How can I help?”
And then do what you can.
Prayer is not a substitute for action.
It is action.
“He prayeth best,
Who loveth best,
All things both great and small,
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.”
-Cooleridge
“Things aren’t important.
Things are important.
Does that make sense?”
She stood before me
In the supermarket.
A friend, I haven’t seen in over a year.
A disease that is slowly melting her cartilage away.
She smiled joyfully at me,
In front of the shredded cheese.
Her happiness had nothing to do with the cheese.
I hope.
“I think so.” I replied.
“Big things aren’t important.
Small things are.”
Her smile continued.
“Yes last year I couldn’t stand.
I might have to have surgery to fuse my spine.
I won’t be able to move my head ever again.”
I said, “Like this?”
Slowly moving my back, neck, and head from side to side as one
Imagining what life would be like,
Like a naive child learning about homeless for the first time.
“Yes,” she said.
We stood, for a moment, in silence as the Friday shoppers passed us,
In a frenzied passion,
As if the three for two special
Held the meaning of life
Or the riches of Solomon.
“You look well,” I said and I meant it.
In fact, she looked beautiful,
With a knowledge and understanding
That few possess.
“Thanks,” she smiled again.
Her eyes closed as discomfort from her condition took hold of her.
“I can only get around now for small amounts of time
And I’m about done.”
I noticed a jar of Macadamia nuts in her hand
And looked around for her cart.
“Is you cart somewhere?”
No, this is all I came for.”
I looked confused
So she continued,
“Last year I couldn’t stand,
I couldn’t clean.
I couldn’t be the mother
I wanted to be.
Everything I thought I once was,
I wasn’t.
I couldn’t even bake.
I love baking.
For now,
At this moment,
I can do things,
Small things,
Simple things.
Today I can bake cookies.”
She looked at the jar in her hand
And smiled sadly.
“Today I can bake,
Silly really.”
Not silly at all.
