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Showing posts from March, 2017

Our Child, America

I stepped up to the cashier put my candy on the counter looked up to meet his unsure but friendly smile You remember me? You took me to Wendy’s for ice-cream …and we talked? he inquired childlike. Yes of course, I remember. You were working with a lady on getting government benefits medicare, medicaid and housing how did it work out? I make too much money, he says they say I make too much money! his eyes disbelieving his voice appealing I make $1500 a month, and I don’t understand, because I’m barely above the poverty line, he volunteers innocently. Adam’s a young white man barely made it through high school has no parental guidance or support seemingly normal and street-smart unwise, immature, insecure. A boy-like man functional in a transactional world only by his wits and ability to hide vulnerabilties disabilites within a veneer of grooming and behavior of sealed lips and servitude which he puts on before work, each day so he can namelessly serve the function the world asks of him without entering into our c…

A whitescape

It snowed today
just enough
for snowflakes to balance
on tree limbs and twigs
to accent one aspect of every branch
like shadows in white.
As evening falls
over the limestone landscape
a gentle wind courses
teasing delicately arranged flakes
out of their formation
into another beautiful journey.
Wind gusts
sweep and swirl
streams of white powder
like unruly locks
of old wispy hair. 
Irresistible
this theatre
even for the shy moon
Peeling back the cumulus and the nimbus
she peers below
her glance gracing
both whitescape and snowflake
conjuring an alchemy,
a luminescence
that radiates
through the night
into my soul,
as I sit inside my bay window.

ESTATE PLANNING...

A thoughtful mind once discerned
race is the child of racism, not the father
Similarly, I note,
age is the child of aging, not the mother.

For decades now I have visited my independently-dwelling single mother every week. To a sporadic inquisitive stranger  she volunteers this, “My kids love me, but not quite enough to have me in their home”. To anyone asking about her missing husband she’d say, “he died a long time ago”…but she seldom mentions how he left without asking.
…And so I visited her yesterday. Mother is a frail 82 years old, who’s healthy mind oscillates between the intimidating tyranny of her forty-something years and an insecure, vulnerable octogenarian. Determined to be an equal and therefore unrelenting one minute, she is suddenly capitulating, submissive and feeble the very next. While it is an interesting case study intellectually and emotionally to see how a human being goes back to ‘weakness’ after ‘strength’ as the scripture describes aging, her experience come…