In the bottom of the night you called to me. 
And my hollow journey filled with recognition.
Deny it if you must.
Turn the magic into dust….
But I still remember.
Anger is an undertow,
Interweaved with old lessons 
That we learned in lifetimes spent.  
 
 
The waves ride like an ocean in the stream…
The sound of rocks meeting water…
 
Storm season started when the red wind blew in. 
And the Titanic never sank at all... 
It sails on like a ghost with no lifeboats. 
In a place where the music always plays.
 
 Our stories were told around a campfire, 
In the comforting circle of the wagons….. 
A welcoming flame glowed in the innocent night… 
And stragglers like me found their way to its warmth.
 
 
“Original clan” a curse from someone’s lips
 A comfort to my ears.   
 
 
 While the archivist wrote in disappearing ink,  
Lovers looked for romance in the shadows. 
And souls touched in places where great truths lived.
 Painful places where good and evil dance without interruption. 
And the music drifted back into my awakening life. 
A magic journey where many  doors and windows opened to the sun.
 
  My miracle is a snowflake… 
And yours can be a drop of rain… 
I cannot make you feel my love … 
I can only touch your pain.
 
 Written without punctuation…
 The longing echoes still. 
A fairytale wrapped in a dream…
A place where magnified sun burns away illusions,
And dreams turn cynical in the night. 
 
 And did we turn this place into another village? 
Was that the price paid? 
A metaphor of real lives... 
A strange morality play… 
Contempt for the onion peelers
 exposure for the pretenders games? 
Put another blog on the fire!
The blue flame may warm your soul.
 
 
 And is there only one electric world, 
Where demons and angels meld together in midair? 
A place where the voices are shrill when their demands go unmet. 
Build me a playground for the children with no joy. 
And I will tuck you in at night.
IN the world where my dual hearts read my words 
And I am not afraid.
 
 
 Perhaps the wagon train is still moving over the mountains.
Powered by our digital DNA…
 
And it is in confusion not conclusion, 
that the magic refuses to die….
 
So deny it if you will. 
And fly through a broken sky 
filled with the pieces of glass houses.
Bold mirrors and brave journals remain as witness.
 
And the gathering continues still…. 
 
  

So last night I’m having a long conversation with my recycled boyfriend. And he says to me that his adult daughter has banned all mention of his Republican views from her house….A woman after my own heart. Anyway before the conversation got to politics he offered to wrestle me to settle any disputes…..But I explained that he wouldn’t have time….he would be too busy cooking me a gourmet meal…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wendy Kaminer:

A liberal is a conservative who's been arrested. A conservative is a liberal who's been mugged.

 

Gloria Steinem:

If women are supposed to be less rational and more emotional at the beginning of our menstrual cycle when the female hormone is at its lowest level, then why isn't it logical to say that, in those few days, women behave the most like the way men behave all month long?

 

 

 

 

My daughter  Sam is an amazing force. She constantly surprises me. Samantha wanted to do a post together. She has chosen the day when her life almost ended  which took place over a year ago.  Although Sami wanted to write companion poems, my words are feeble next to hers. So this is my letter to my daughter. And my long overdue “thank you” note to McKensie of McKensie’s Inner Fire

 

 She has written her heart in red and I am writing in blue.

 

PS Just in case anyone is wondering we are in reality not the Gilmore Girls! We just like the song.

 

 

 

 

The Turning Point or My Heart is Alive

 

The truest words she ever heard were “Life turns on a dime.” She heard those words from a jaded nurse with bags underneath her eyes.

 

Standing there across from me the tears she must have cried she never let me see. Stitched up and incoherent I laid there in the hospital bed  she never left my side and she gently stroked my head.

 

Even as the aftermath of my disaster consumed me she stood strong in the path of the storm.

 

Now you wonder who this amazing woman could be? She is none other than my Mother.

 

 

 

Dear Sami

 

When the nurse in her Jersey accent said “Life turns on a dime”  she reached as if to touch my hand,  but she was in a glass cage and touched the glass instead. I was numb. I felt like my heart had been buried outside my body.

 

Visit Mackenzie (Definitely An Angel)

 

And somewhere in the night an angel found me.  Actually this particular angel was a real life woman who blogs on the stream…I’m not sure to this day that she really understands how much she meant to me….Because she reminded me that my heart was alive. Wrapped in bandages, and covered in stitches you were alive.

 

And that night my life turned.

 

The thing is that when you tell your story, I want you to remember that you are the hero. Despite the fact that you insisted on breaking down the closet door instead of  just “coming out”. Despite the battle scars and maybe because of them you are stronger and wiser. Aries almost always has a scar on their forehead from going at life head first. So you got your scar and now you can more easily change course when you need to go a different direction.

 

If that dark day stays forever with you….Remember it is the day you found yourself. It is the day you started again. It is the day that I trusted your Grandaddy to tuck you in and I knew that you would come home safe to me.

 

That day was the beginning of your sobriety and your journey.  And I believe you will have a life filled with joy, honesty and love.

 

My darling you have identified your demons. This is a gift. You can vanquish them and  never allow them to rule you again.     No one day will ever define you. And may  your dimes grow wings when they  turn your life around.

 

Love Mom

Definitely not the hero