Things About Things

What can I say about nature? I walk outside to become acquainted with the night sky. The clouds are lazy gray. They're scattered with splotches of dark, irregular-shaped pillows.

The air is thick with the smell of rain. The night hovers as a blanket over a vast meadow. The glow of the moon walks across the sky toward secret places. I wonder where it sits among the waking hours just before first light.

I wonder where God places the next day's paintings.

How many times I have wished to become a sleeping flower in my grandmother's garden. I lost count long ago.
She was as gentle as the summer rain. Her tulips always had a smile for her... as she had for me.
She was akin to nature, it seemed....

CHURCH

I remember well when Daddy became what he called ‘saved’. I didn’t know what that meant, and I really didn’t care. Saved from what, I thought? Due to this new saving thing, we were all going to put on new clothes and shoes and go to church.
Church—what was church?

It sits boxed up in my memory bank as though it just happened. We went to a little white church down the street from our house. I didn’t find a thing of interest. Strange looking men in funny looking clothes were playing music. Things called guitars, Daddy said. They looked like wood with strings tied too tight to me.

Church lasted way too long for my brother and me. We were glad when the preacher dismissed us. We had heard the sirens close by but I thought nothing of it. I just wanted out of there.

We walked outside and one look down the block told me that something bad had happened. Yes, during our first-time to visit God’s house, our house burned down. My brother reminded me tonight, May 1,2009, that our house had burned on Christmas Eve. We were indeed children that believed in Santa Clause. We lost everything that night. We were very sad. So very very sad.....

I remember thinking God must not have wanted us there. How angry he was to do this. I would vow to never go again. I was too afraid.

Life

I write out my life hour by hour, word by word, and thought by thought. I try to speak of something meaningful before falling into a corner of my own creation. Growing up, my life was happy for the most part. I grew like a wild flower in ground of strange soil. We were transplanted from place to place. My Father was a minister which had its own shortcomings. I oft times felt like a piece of thread trying to make it through the eye of change. I learned quickly that the spotlight was for my dad but not for me. Everything I did reflected on what he was and what he was... reflected on my being.

Emotions

If I talk until my words trickle like rain inside your emotions will the maze of tomorrow's greeting find me alone? Are we just an illusion against the backdrop of time? Long ago, my thoughts were wrapped in deep sleep. The rains came without warning. I can't chance waking... The rain will keep on falling, but I will only talk of you..in my sleep....

THE JOURNEY

The journey is filled with twists and turns. Few keys unlock doors that mirror the stranger inside this reflection. Purple represents the crosswalk between yesterday and today. Detailed perceptions flee from the corridors of my memory leaving only that which I allow to enter.