Timepress.

 Do you remember the days of Sand, when we met?

How the stars above were filled with awe…

And the sun shone brightest upon YOU and ME,

All bestowed with the blessings of Ra.

For OURS was a union, never foreseen,

Not by my Master, not by your Queen;

A bond of all lifetimes,

It turned the kindest man green.

While the Bronze days that followed,

Never quite had the feel of tomorrow

Bore secrets and legends made of victories and sorrow…

Shared by the trace of a bloodline

So ancient to this present space and time;

But YOU and I can still taste the flesh upon which we dined…

It is gone but not lost on the time we have borrowed.

So confusing, this fear pent up full inside here,

And the pangs have gotten stronger

I know YOU are near…

To find YOU again in an Iron of times

Has long sent the mysteries of the dead up my spine

Just to lose YOU once more in the throes of my mind…

The journey thus has been so unkind, so untrue to this soul of mine.

I reach for you now

Because I feel you there once more

Unsure and afraid of what you’ve come back to reach for,

But most certain that I can’t set these fires anymore.

Your soul knows all that will be, or has been,

Has it truly been written in limestone and sand grain?

That your return will be a mockery of destiny’s reunion…

 How many centuries have we buried in this sand?

Repeat the beat upon my chest for taking your shaking hand,

once again, we face each other for another final stand,

the sweetest of sauce,

can’t ease such a loss of such an elusive man.

Ordained.

When you take
the number
and divide it by
women and men;
each number’s
representative
shackled to the next
there is no turning back again;
Each of the numbers
write from behind a face
and a name only known
by the remaining of the eight;
stationed, they form a natural loop
around a cauldron, boiling hot
they each impart upon the brew
the best of what they brought;
with words heavy as a ton of sand
and fire embers burning old as time
they concoct a wondrous trail of smoke
that creates a beacon above their firelight;
With every flavorful addition tossed in
the fire blazes and pot steams and steeps
the froth that simply forms along the surface
is potent enough to put a crackhead to sleep;
The reason being for this magick
is the formation of a dangerous clan
a legion of literary sword mimes
was how the strange brew began;
This group is threaded by invisible strings
a need to release all of the past happenings
and create from them something…
to counter, with some kind of solid meaning;
each dark, smoky tendril that vaporizes
from the brewing force into the Universe
another gladiator slain by an Arena Beast
another burial of a memory’s curse;
they evade beneath the canopy’s shade
a sword dug in the soil by each’s side
for they have forged the smallest army
hell-bent on turning the compliant tides.

Ties.

The broken, even those like me who have a very limited family to choose from, come back to our blood when we can. I have shared every year how hard the holidays are on me – and how I feel as if I have only barely recovered from one holiday’s wounds before it’s already Christmastime again. Admittedly, this year isn’t as bad as the stack of years leading up to it, somehow – likely because of the changes that have taken, and continue to take effect on my own psyche, I know…but, the overall emptiness and hollowed out feeling remains, in spite of the beginning of my own process of letting go of any former (and completely futile) expectations, hopes and/or goals in regard to my child, my own identity, and the future in general.

I’ve also written about my family a lot: my clan of older brothers, still living – my single younger brother, long dead. I have written about the two separate sets of kids that my father reared: THE ORIGINALS (the older set of four boys) and THE NON-ORIGINALS (the younger set of two boys and myself); my family structure growing up was odd, at best…but very close knit, in spite of such a wide-ranging collection. During childhood, I was closest to the baby, JJ, who committed suicide very young; and also with my very oldest brother, German, who is old enough to be my (young) father. The rest of my brothers and I have always missed that certain “connection”, for lack of a better term.

Nate, who is right above me in age (19 months older) and the first born of the NON-ORIGINALS, is very different from me in every way possible, as was he from JJ. Our childhoods kept us close but as soon as we began to grow up and foster our own personalities, Nate decided that he no longer cared too much for us. His high IQ and exquisite intelligence always alienated us; his introverted and anti-social persona didn’t help. After our father died, and our family was split up and separated permanently, the only one that I remained in daily contact with was JJ because we were kept together for a time. I found out after his death that Nathan had specifically asked to placed somewhere separately from us, and this morsel of information literally felt as if it had broken my spirit somehow for years, afterward.

Through my discovery of such a painful truth, Nate had made himself dead to me as well; I didn’t even count him as part of my family for almost a decade. It was ice between us. When I was recovering from the attempt on my life by the Ripper and all that drama, he never even checked on me once – never asked about me – basically it seemed that I was dead to him, in turn. When I came home, however, and he saw that I meant business in my own recovery and rehabilitation (my life prior to that was spent as a hostage to a psychopathic husband), he flipped a switch and became my staunchest ally, nearly overnight. He has gotten married and become a father since then; he seems to love me more as a result of those things, somehow.

His first-born, three-year-old “Cay-Cay”, is truly saving my life these days; giving me a spiritual renewal that I couldn’t (and wouldn’t) have thought possible at such an emotionally defeated time for me, reminding me that I am still worth something to at least one young, formidable soul out there. Her fierce and unwavering love for me has been like a lifeboat in the darkest swells of a lifetime. And, beneath it all, I have this sense of my brother’s love, too. He has been almost forceful with maintaining such an exceptional bond between she and I since the moment she was born, even before my life fell the rest of the way to shambles, it’s like he sensed the need somehow. He foresaw things that I was blind to seeing and successfully created a kind of safety net of emotional/spiritual fulfillment for me, just in case.

Of course, as with most things in life, these are things that are only just now becoming apparent to me – but I do recognize them. And there are not words to express the ton-of-bricks I am buried beneath when it comes to feeling grateful to him for it.

Burn.

Fallen.

Fallen.

The one thing that I ask for this year,
Would be to just myself, completely disappear –
Somewhere quiet and cold, without a single memory to fear.

Wishes don’t come true, Blind One.

No trace of the paces I’ve left behind,
No bet to reset the mouse wheel inside my mind –
No way to lose or find myself – solitude of the most intrusive kind.

Truths aren’t acceptable, Lone One.

I’ll show myself the things I used to love,
I’ll sport my old jeans that still fit like a glove –
Maybe I’ll drink ‘til the bottle is all I can think of…

Acceptance can’t be lit on fire, Drunken One.

Maybe I’ll run for the tree line,
Sprinting and screaming like I’ve lost my mind –
Cry until my tears don’t sting – make the horizon mine.

Fire won’t burn the ice off your heart, Broken One.