Apr 8, 2020
I’m searching for the nightclub of which you were singing, and the tree. Dear, heaven’s Prine, prove damn daddy wrong.
Pour me a cocktail, vodka and ginger ale, I need to have a talk that’ll last at least nine miles long. The loss, the words- his, I borrow the duration and song.
I have drained the ink flow from grief, finding only that again my well is open. Choice blind, I am, to life. Other side of the finish line, and there’s a new mark 6ft ahead, always.
I’ve sucked and spit the ink, because I’m tired of this learners tune. But, I know, life is in honesty. Sing on. Fractioned authenticity tastes bitter. And, the look ain’t pretty- drippy tight jaw, black and blue mess. Containing the dark, concealing the shadow behind teeth. Remorse for eyes that want only light, privilege.
Realities. I claimed plenty of sunshine heading my way not long ago, in celebration. I claimed ignorance in adoring wisdom- read “you can’t run from trouble, there ain’t no place that far.” Disneyland is closed. There is trouble in our sunshine. I run in place, so tired of half truths and coping.
We’ve got trouble, right here in the pretty city. All of us together with crisis, loss. Yet we too deal with much more, all with our personal pulling strings.
A given definition for forgiveness- “letting go of hope that the past might have been different.” I’ve considered much, as I tried and succeeded in stops and starts to let go of hope that no longer serves. But, I’m still grappling with the hope that belongs to now.
Recently, I was asked what comes to mind for my future- hope was my quick answer. Honestly, it is the thing I want for my past too. The thing I will keep letting go of as many times as it takes. I’m a miner, searching for ways to right the wrongs of yesterday’s innocence lost. Seeking gold in the ruin. But, each moment- move on. Today, polarity. Trash, mire, silver. Honest to sadness, goodness.
Stay with the song, remember again the true tune and the miles it will go on.
When I get to heaven, I’m gonna shake Gods hand, thank em for more blessings than one man can stand. Same, late friend, gone early. Peace. I’ll see you at The Forgiveness Tree, someday, cuttin the rug.