Category Archives: Beloved

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In deep

Time to return
again

Human, pfaugh
I give up
I don’t want to be one
I can be anything I want to be
I want to be a mermaid
again

I sink into the sea
and down to the depths
scales and tail and breathe the sea
the water cools the burns
my charred burnt skin
and lungs

Such a fail again
every time I try
to be human
yes, legs, I can do that
it always makes my voice hurt
but those damn wings
come with the legs

It’s hard to hide the wings.

I don’t know how
but they sense them
even when I hide them

It really pisses me off.
It’s the broken ones that show up
though now I think maybe
they are all broken
they all wander around
pretending they are ok
using lies to try to appear nice
hating parts of themselves
calling those parts unclean spirits
and casting them out
DEMON! DEVIL!
over and over

I try to pretend they aren’t there
the cast out
and I am human too
but the demons kneel and lay their monstrous heads
in my lap
crying
cluster round me
begging for my help

I always fail.

I try to stay present
with the person and the cast out
but eventually I can’t stand it
and I say something wrong
and the stupid human thinks I am the demon
and casts me out too.

I wait and hope.

I wait and hope with the monsters
with the rough beasts.
“You have wings,” say the demons, “Help us!”
“I can’t.” I say, “The humans must help themselves.”
The monsters weep and wail.
Finally I am sick of it again.
I send them home
and I go home too.
I have failed again
and must endure falling through the atmosphere
my feathers and skin a burning star

I am sick of it.
I give up, Beloved.
I am a failure.
I can’t do this.
I must go to the sea again.

Here is the trench, the deepest part of the ocean
I stop swimming and let myself sink
Slowly the light disappears
I am in the ink black

Slowly the others appear
glowing
in the deep

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: liquid.

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Enemy

A friend and I are talking this morning and he is talking about praying daily. “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us”. That turns into a discussion of enemies and ourselves. It’s easier to have an external enemy identified than to deal with ourselves, isn’t it? Here is today’s poem.

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Enemy

Do you have an enemy?

Do I have an enemy?

maybe I have no enemy
I have people I have forgiven
I have people who I have asked to forgive me
I have people I have forgiven
but keep distanced
no reconciliation
possible if they continue abuse
blind and deaf
saying “We are righteous!”
over and over to each other

A book teaches me
asks what are you most proud of
in yourself?
Three things:
strong, smart, tough.
The mirror is what you fear the most
weak, foolish, vulnerable
I shy back, hate the author
and he is correct
at least for me

Like the sutra
sometimes I am weak
sometimes I am foolish
sometimes I am vulnerable

When there is a person
or people
I want to hate
What aspect of myself
of my past
of my psyche
are they bringing up?
Are they stronger, smarter, tougher?
Are they weaker, foolish, more vulnerable?
Why do I want to hate them?

It’s easier, I see
to hate another person
and cast them out like a demon
then to look in the mirror
and see the aspect of myself
that I long so much
to hate

That demon
once cast out
will return with seven more

Mirror mirror
on the wall
tell my why
the angels fall

if an angel gets it’s wings
every time a bell rings
each time we hate another, as well
an angel falls heaven to hell

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Love tale

An older couple comes to me in clinic. She is losing her memory, they explain. They are looking for a doctor who will respect her wishes. Once she goes in the nursing home, no intervention. No antibiotics, no shots, no iv, no hospital.

Yes, I say.

It is about a year before she goes in to the nursing home. I do my regular visits.

After a number of years I happen to meet her husband in the hall. “She is talking about her twenties.” he says. “She lived in an apartment and ran errands for her uncles. I am hearing all sorts of stories I never heard! I go home and type them and send them to the family.”

“That is wonderful,” I say. He visits daily.

I go on to her room. She says, “That man comes to see me. He says he’s my husband. I don’t remember, but he is such a nice man!” I think she falls in love with him again daily. He visits and is where she is in her memory.

Some time later the nursing home calls me. “She has a fever of 101 and has not eaten for two days.” I go visit and call her husband. “Should I do anything?”

“No! She’d kill me!”

“Ok. She might die.”

“I know.”

She doesn’t die. The fever comes down and she gets out of bed and is thirsty.

There is a year between my years at the hospital and setting up my private clinic. We send out postcards, trying not to send them to anyone who has died.

Her husband comes to the clinic opening. “She died last year,” he says.

“I am so sorry! We tried not to send postcards if people had died!”

“It’s ok,” he says, “I wanted to come and thank you.”

He dies about a year after she does. I hope they are together again.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: true love.

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Painterly

Two evenings ago we were waiting for dark for a kayak tour. The sky was painterly, with clouds that look like the old masters, shades of white and pink and grey. It was gorgeous color in the reddening light as the sun set.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: color/colour.