I have a special ticket
Source: Another Planet
I have a special ticket
Source: Another Planet
DADDY DO YOU HEAR ME
Where would I be if I didn’t have you?
Lost in a world of confusion
not knowing what to do
I knew you were around,
it was just something I missed…
Silent cries of my envy of
a father’s sweet kiss
That’s why I ask,
“DADDY do you hear me?”
Did you know the many nights I cried,
as I wondered why you were away
Mind riddled with negative thoughts
from negative people from around the way
All my life seemed to be in shambles,
a sort of battle-like tug-of-war
Not knowing you had demons of your own
away from your family, so very far
But I still ask,
“Daddy do you hear me?”
Daddy I would have loved every moment
of every minute of every hour
of the precious moments I had with you
Overjoyed with the thoughts of many questions
that I needed answered,
that only you had the answers to
Man I was lonely…
My loneliness still remains a new-found friend
never knowing where my focus should be,
and what price I would have to pay
to see a future of gain–Are you listening daddy?
I ask again,
DADDY do you hear me?
I have been through so much,
and in life it’s a lesson learned
Pain, anxiety, and such are the evils that
Why did I take myself down that road, daddy
to a place where I knew I could never win
A full day can’t go any farther,
it’s a dead-end
Daddy if only I could rewind
the times I had with you
Daddy, I would tell you that one last time,
how much I love you
I know you’re up there gazing down on me
I want you to know I’m doing good to let God–
trying to be drama free
Yet, I still ask…DADDY do you hear me?
Though my life seems challenging, I wake
full of hopes and dreams
Goals steady coming, a future yet unseen
Daddy, I know you hear me, it seems to be clear
Remembering the times we had together
as I hold them dear
I love you with all my heart…
Your grand-daughters look just like you
I ask, daddy, do you hear me?
And in turn I know you do
Shoulders back, heads up, barracuda grin
wise-cracks, playback, hold the worries in
press play, record again: I’m fine. I’m fine.
Do Not Let Pedro Pietri
When I Was One-and-Twenty A.E. Housman
Drinking Alone in the Moonlight Li Po
It’s Fine Today Douglas Malloch
Thinking Walter D Wintle
Funeral Blues W.H. Auden
Mixed Sketches Don L Lee
The Gardener Rabindranath Tagore
Solitude Ella Wilcox
Wishing Ella Wilcox
The Props Assist the House Emily Dickinson
Love Poem Leslie Marmon Silko
Today is a Day of Great Joy Victor Hernandez Cruz
Thought Christopher Cranch
Drop a Pebble in the Water James W Foley
The Red Wheelbarrow William C Williams
Visits to St Elizabeth’s Elizabeth Bishop
The Song of Despair Pablo Neruda
Leisure W.H. Davies
A Certain Peace Nikki Giovanni
All for the Best
I’m not a morning person. Even after eleven years, I l struggle with crawling back into bed after morning drop-offs or ignoring the alarm clock altogether and burrowing deeper into the covers, especially on cool or wintry days. Yet, on this particular morning, begrudged, I answered the phone, wondering who in the world could call at such an ungodly hour. Didn’t people know my wake-up time? No earlier than noon?!
To my surprise it was my mother. She didn’t call often and she wasn’t an early bird either, so instinctively my mind told me something was wrong. That part is a long story but involves a drunk lady, a car, my challenged cousin, whom stoned-lady had on top of the car holding down a mattress, and a hospital. Cousin’s injuries were many, his diagnosis not so good.
Minutes later, as I lay in bed, someone knocked on the door. It was a repairman. He informed me he’d come to fix my leaky faucet. Finally! I thought. I let him in, opened the curtains, realized what a gorgeous day it was. If only I could wake before noon every morning, I thought to myself. I even opened the windows, took in the breeze signaling the imminent change of seasons. While fix-it -guy tinkered with the sink, I switched on the television. That story too is long, painful, and all too familiar to us. It involves an anchorman, several planes, and two iconic towers.
I watched as the newsman reported a plane crashing into the World Trade Center. Gosh, I reasoned, that’s crazy! And, as my mind often does, I imagined the people on that plane and what must have gone through their minds as things went haywire. What were they thinking; what did their prayers consist of; who did they call, if anyone?
But then, shortly after, another plane. I froze. Mouth open. Thoughts churning. Something wasn’t right with the scenario. At all. I didn’t understand how and why it seemed to just…aim for the building, almost as if on purpose.
Fix-it guy stepped into the room. He too stood there. Mouth open. As news continued to develop, we learned of another plane; and I knew, maybe we all knew then, that some strange ish was going down. As networks replayed footage throughout the day, my heart just…I don’t know, I can’t describe it, even now. People–jumping., running, crying, in a daze, in a state of disbelief?
I went to work. The city went wild. There were rumors of gas prices sky-rocketing so nearly everyone in the small town where I live was at a pump. Of course my car sat on empty. I didn’t even try to get gas; that was the least of my concerns. What did concern me was our future. And, vain as it was, I wondered if I would get to see my upcoming birthday. Would any of us live to see our birthdays?
That night, I snuggled closer to my boyfriend, listening for the sound of planes overhead, even though all flights were restricted. I closed my eyes and knew that something significantly changed that day. Mind-sets changed, the world changed…and hasn’t been the same since.
Here is a reader’s take on that day:
Barbara Ann Divine
September 11, 2001
On this day I woke up a lot later than I do now. I had no kids, no husband, and I actually got sleep. I was living at home and my sister and her kids lived next door. I walked up to her house and for some reason I was alone. I turned on the tv to see that the world was finally coming to an end.
I used to think my grandmother was crazy. She always said it was gonna happen. That people would finally get crazy enough to pull something like that. She said, “Girl you better know how to grow your own food and live out in the woods. ” Now I believe her way more than I did then.
I watched just a few people, with hate filled hearts, destroy thousands of lives in minutes. I watched towers fall, and you knew that people were jumping. People covered in ash were running for their lives and ducking into stores in hope that the ash would not follow and kill them. Blood, firefighters, flags, these images would still haunt us today.
I went into my dead end job that afternoon in shock and everyone was talking about it. We all still talk about it and, for those who watched it through a tv screen, were scarred from it. Could you imagine living it? Even now when I hear a plane in the sky I duck and wait. I won’t fly, and never plan to. This is now the state of my world.
I don’t plan for it to get better, and for us that believe in a certain God….one day it will have to get worse for it to get better.
and the occasional answer:
these are the things
life is made of
Writing isn’t my only love. In fact, I’m not sure which came first in my life–writing or music. Let’s see, I wanted to play guitar and take dance lessons sometime before pre-K, and as soon as I learned how to place my alphabets correctly on the little blue dotted lines, I began creating stories. Still, if you think about it, it looks like music came first.
However, my introduction to Miles was somewhat of an accident. I decided to buy Kind of Blue because…well, it fit my mood at the time. My best friend was getting married and I was a little melancholy, unsure of how it would change our relationship. Every evening, I’d light a citronella candle, sit outside, and write about the upcoming change in our lives, all while listening to Miles.
Ironically, that CD was also the introduction to my husband. Yep, the best friend got married. And later, I got married. But before that, I met Future Hubby in the CD section of a retail store. I was looking for more of the jazz genius I’d been listening to for the past couple of months. Future Hubby’s words were, “what you now about Miles Davis?” Of course, the man who is now my husband had tried several times before then to get me to call him and go out with him, but something about him challenging me with a music question struck a chord. From there ensued a debate. And then a date.
Soon came marriage and children. I’d put the kids to sleep with Kind of Blue and Love Songs by Miles.
Somewhere in there, one night while I was asleep, I heard a horn, a distinct pitch, a sound that only Miles could create. I looked up. I’d fallen asleep with the television on one of those music channels that play all night. Solea, it read at the bottom. By Miles Davis.
I knew it! But where, on what CD? Obviously one I didn’t have. I adjusted my eyes to the blue light of the television screen–Sketches of Spain, the words read. I had to find it.
F.Y.I: If you’ve never heard it and you like jazz, go get it.
Art comes in all forms, not just books and poetry.
Feeling some kind of way today that I don’t even have a word for. Depressed? Trapped in a situation caused by a circumstance? Stagnate? My writer’s brain says “caged” but, of course, others would probably say that’s a bit dramatic. It’s a long story that I suppose my conscience has tugged me about before; yep, something has been trying to tell me something for about five years. So when do you say, “enough is enough” when do you just…free fall? Will there be something besides cement down there when I jump?
The abridged version of this story is that the current circumstances and present situation ain’t working. At all. But I, being the cautious over-thinker that I am, am reluctant to open the window and just…jump.
It seems somewhat impractical to starve while being happy, and yet it feels silly to make money while sacrificing one’s self, family, and sanity. Tis the world we live in. We learn to become collages among the chaos of life.
Yes, I’ve seen others plunge into the unknown; some even looked better after what seemed an irrational leap of faith. But, then again, I suppose that’s the point: faith.
In any event, today brings to mind some words written in the journal last year:
Where did you go?
You know, the person,
not the one we see,
the you inside.
Where did you go?
You let them strip you–
of your joy
your energy, your smile,
Lose who you are and you become a collage of everything and everyone else…