Family Poems (502)

ME
HOLD ME LOOSE BUT LOVE ME.
LET ME SEE WHAT I CAN BE.
ALL MY LIFE I'VE BEEN FOR OTHERS.
SOMEONE'S CHILD, SOMEONES WIFE,
SOMEONE'S MOTHER.
I'VE LOVED THEM ALL.
BUT NOW, YOU SEE.
I WANT TO KNOW WHAT I CAN BE.
IF I BE ME

A single mom at age fifteen,
A mind of her own, entire.
When women's lib came on the scene,
No changes were required.

She raised her daughter up to be,
Equally independent.
In ev'ry way, I have to say,
She was her mom's descendant.

She didn't like the "Grandma" name,
Being only thirty-five.
So Gan-gan was the name she chose,
When her first grandchild arrived.

She worked at jobs for other folks,
No time to be romantic.
My first memory of her work,
Shipping vitamins organic.

Her only child raised up and wed,
She started her own bus'ness.
And quite successful was she too,
To that I am a witness.

Chiropractors phones she answered,
Black phones with dials dismounted.
She never missed a call for them,
The only thing that counted.

Twice a year she would take time off
At Christmas and Thanksgiving.
On Black Friday, go downtown,
To do our Christmas shopping.

The window decorations charmed,
Our little eyes with wonder.
We'd stop and stare in rapt delight,
As the crowds around would thunder.

On streetcars we would make the trip,
Those special times with Gan-gan.
And memory still melts my heart,
Even now as an old man.

she circles slowly
teetering in life
hard to move
hard to hold
patient she enjoys
sun and rest
and rest and sleep
won't be long now
but still a purr
can be coaxed
from the day
satisfaction in
the waiting

© agoodguy2have 2010-09-08

I saw you dancing the other day in the beautiful dress I made for you.

I couldn`t hold my tears back, you were so pretty.

Your smile lit up the room, I was so proud.

I whistled and hollered, drowning out the sounds of all the other parents.

I embarrassed you I know, you turned beat red when the other parents looked at me in annoyance.

I`m sorry honey, I don`t mean to, but I`m your mom and I love you.

When someone uses violence,
To control another's life.
It causes lack of confidence,
Be it daughter, son or wife.

All the anger and frustration,
Can build up inside of you.
Til your desp'rate situation,
May lead you to vi'lence too.

It is often carried forward,
To the children of abuse.
Who then point the finger backward,
Use their parents as excuse.

But you always have your choices,
On this long and winding road.
You can listen to those voices,
Or just choose to change your mode.

You can stand up to that bully,
And thus remove his power.
Even though you realize fully,
It could be your final hour.

All the courage you can manage,
Will just barely be enough,
But you can control the damage,
And prove you're of stronger stuff.

So be kind to those who love you,
So that love may come to you.
Just don't let your demons shove you,
And to thine own self be true.

No empty void or hollow place to fill,
light filling,seeping from within,
my grateful heart's,yield,grown,
absorb my love,rise and bloom.

just don't need or want around
the days are new unlimited ends
we're testing on the proving ground
the nights along with many friends

the horizon's edge is right here now
and all things are to those who be
no need to get to the end somehow
reading a lifeline scrolling marquee

most all of days like summers amaze
no winters blues to haunt us
can't get pulled by some malaise
the youth of life brings finesse

at walk at rest at last at best
time stands still forever young
challange and meet a youthful quest
before our aged song been sung

© agoodguy2have 2010-08-23

Time was taken away from me.
Even though i tried.
I wandered through time
in a dazzled state of mind.
Tortured from a thousand memories.
Mr lucky was no more.

Sitting in a cold room.
On the floor a desperate frame.
Watching the anguished rain
flow down beyond my face.
Why cant i see sunshine ?
Why cant i hold my happiness ?

Sunday beckons forth with
alarming regularity.
It cares not for my woes.
Never asking for reasons why,
in still calm waters, i wonder.
You should not dare to caress
the thoughts of joy.

There is a glimmer of light,
It shimmers just within reach.
A compromise from nature given.
Untold riches await my call.
And yet I cannot say yes,
I would lose the very thing
my heart bleeds for.

A stranger comes from heaven.
A calm and strong mind.
I seek no mistrust or emotive pain.
Only thoughts pure of spirit.
A guiding light to heal wounds past.
And from within grows might,
a force all powerful.
No more shall I seek the dead in reassurance.

This is my time !
With nothing to fear but fear itself !
I reign and am, despite illness of mind,
A king of kings within.
A throne without a royal standard.
My castle walls breaketh not.
In silent gratitude, my heart beats proud
No mortal mind can obstruct.

JEFF CLARKE
17/01/2004

“…if only you knew who you were, if only you knew what was in store for you, you would smile a lot more…”
Anonymous guru

Part I

The shamanic traditions are very clear on a very real paradox,
Unless the shaman is wounded in some serious way, how can he find the empathy within him/her to offer true guidance and reveal the path of healing to the sufferer?
David Cumes, is a beloved physician, in his writings, he vividly explores and explains the paradox of ‘the wounded healer’, how that most medical doctors are ‘wounded healers’ due to their rigorous and inhuman training, in order to qualify.

I am not a medical doctor, I hold a Ph.D. in Holistic Nutrition, but, I must confess, I too am I ‘wounded healer’. Oh, my odyssey gets better and better with time, as time is sometimes, not always, a great healer, but, being a perfectionist, I still feel I have a looooooong way to go…, a very, very long way… One day many years ago, I was counseling a 16-year old young woman who had just tragically lost her father. She listened respectfully to my erudite prating, but, suddenly, she asked me:
“Doctor, did you loose your father when you were 16, and were you a girl at the time?”
The stunning, but very profound question, humbled me, brought a few tears to my visage and shut me up. Why? Because, of course, I had not walked a mile in her shoes, and never would. Oh, my training had provided me with all the ‘right’ and ‘clever’ answers, and yes, they are, of course, academically correct, and valid, but, how, how, could I possibly look into the eyes of that child and candidly tell her she should listen to me, as I knew the way out… Hogwash!

Continued in part II

“…if only you knew who you were, if only you knew what was in store for you, you would smile a lot more…”
Anonymous guru

Flash-forward many more years to a suburb of Johannesburg, South Africa… I was walking along a dusty road with one of my six precious daughters, who, will, of course, remain anonymous. She had just lost her precious and wonderfully-healthy 32-day old baby girl to murder at the hands of our little angel’s biological father, a psychopath, who, in their right minds, would, after all, kill their own baby with their own hands? We had done our very unpleasant duty and finished with the 2-year court case, which sentenced the boy to 30 years in prison, and we had decided to go home to Africa, to, if at all possible, heal and find some meaning and hope to go on, though none of us felt like going on, we just wanted to join our celestial lost baby girl…

My very special and very gifted and talented and much beloved young daughter, was at last at the end of her tether, as she was torn in a gazillion different pieces from her fiery trial…, sans hope, sans feeling… At that point we were in a field, suddenly, she just sat down… The field was a typical African field, I noticed, peripherally, broken glass everywhere, empty soda bottles, wrappers of all kinds, some blobs of human excrement here and there and the nauseating stench of human urine permeated the hot summer air…

I knew what was coming, devastated, I sat down with her, with a finality that alarmed my academic mind to say the least… we both just burst out in loud tears and inconsolable wailing, the great drops of our life force falling on the African soil upon which we were both born, and love so much… Luckily, the field was out of the way and no passers-by noted our rite of passage… No words were exchanged, we just emptied ourselves of the pent-up agony of our souls for the day, as it is not possible to gain total catharsis in a day, or a year or a life-time or two…, no, rather, like a volcano, you release what you can for the day, till the next eruption… incoherent phrases, like:
“Go on without me, please, Dad, just leave me here to die, I am not getting up again…”
“Never, my daughter, I will perish here with you…”
“Why Dad, why…”
“I have no idea, my daughter, none, whatsoever…”
“Am I such a great sinner Dad, that God had to take my baby away…”
“Of course not, my angel, you’re still a babe yourself…”

Continued in Part III