Child Within

 


I.

A little girl sits on a bench,
swings her legs 
and reads from her book 
of a thousand and one jokes.

I glimpse, in that act, 
a young woman,

and I am thrilled
and deeply
shaken
at once.


II.

A look crosses a woman’s face, 
flashes 

for less than a moment,
too fast 
to be
more than
barely seen.
The girl that once was
comes passing through
a passing thought 

and is caught  
—only not caught—

and gone before 
she is known 
for what she is
or what she was,

left with only the 
memory of 
an expression
of memory

passed beneath the surface.

The little girl is gone.




III.

A little boy cries out
from an old 
man’s face,
 
the sad one,
the lost one, 
the last one, 

beyond comprehension 
of a hard-won heart.

The learned self-given healing

—even that—
is gone.

Pain 
as can only be known
to a child is

carried on and on,
a burden that one 
never wants to open.
 


IV.

A son is asked 
by his father

—but it is the cry of the lost boy,
ripped from somewhere deep 
in the old man’s throat—

“Will you be my mommy?”

How can a son answer this,
when his father does the asking?

Is this what it feels like to be born?
To lose forever the warmth
that is still (but now only) 
known from within?

We find us both 
lost past longing
and long past lost.

Incomprehensible  
why this happens to any of us,
this slap that is existence.

A son is carried by his father
for so many years that he is
shocked to realize he is no 
longer being carried, surprised
to find himself standing with 
his own legs under him.


V.

A little girl sits on a bench,
swings her legs 
and reads her book 
of a thousand and one jokes.

I glimpse, in that act, 
a young woman,

and I am thrilled
and deeply
shaken
at once.





such that the moment



The truth is 
such that the moment 
we turn our 
backs on it 
it ceases to be the truth
that we thought it was.

The truth is 
such that the moment
we take our 
next breath it 
changes and it changes the 
breath that we just took.









Shadorma November, Day 6 (seven days late....)
(...or does that make it six?...)


Monday’s Music Box: Changes, Fortunes, Misfortunes and Circumstances

Our world is turned on its head.  We are reinventing ourselves.  We are reinventing our Selves.

We are closing–after less than a year and a half–the doors of our beloved café.  It is for good.  We want to believe it is for the best.  For us all.  This was a dream whose time was not now.  The cost was too high.  We have no more to give.

We are closing–after over ten years–our catering business.  This has been our world.  This has been our life.  We are tired.  We are getting old before our time.

We are moving, as well, our home.  We are down-sizing.  By a ratio of seven to one.

Our world is turned on its head.

We are frightened but we are also excited about new beginnings.  More time together. More time to pursue what really matters to us, what we truly value in our selves as persons.  Our art.  Our words.  Our music.

We are ready for a new life.  We are ready for new lives.

So….

No music this week.  Words instead.

This story has been much on my mind.

We all live in a cloud of unknowing.

At times, this becomes much more apparent.

(Many thanks to juntamng for sharing this story.)