The New Year

This year i am not celebrating the coming new year...
I am however extremely grateful that the old one is passing -
i did not like the conflicts
i did not like the confusion
i did not like the games i felt were played (inadvertently, i think, by my blood family)
It is over and i do not want to remember it
- like the bliss i felt on not remebering much of 2008
and maybe a bit of 2007
- i want a new year with out all of that,
that drama.
I hope my next post is better.

The ups and downs of the Holidays

There was much too much going on,
people came
and left.
Baking was done
and it continued
and continued.
And then there were more house guests
and parties
and dinners.
It might have been too much, but it did not fill the void left after.
Ah the post holiday blues..
I have things to share -
recipes

and pictures
and times together discovering new friends
and old,
but not today.
Today i must rest,

A dream Come True

Only a dream,
That the police will be there
At the right time
And the right place,
But there they were.
Walking back from shopping,
Near the hope to be opened soon Mill River Park,
I start to cross the next street.
An SUV, gold in color
Was half straddling the crosswalk.
Behind and to the side,
A police vehicle.
As entered the walk, the SUV moved forward and so I yelled,
More to be noticed than anything else
And the woman behind the wheel glared at me.
As I passed, she opened her door
and began yelling profanities at me.
I yelled back, simply;
“You’re NOT supposed to block the crosswalk”!
I walked on and the lady continued yelling.
Out of the corner of my eye,
I saw an officer get out of his car and approach the yelling woman.
I walked on.
A bit further, I turn to see the woman yelling at the cop.
Further down I went and saw the lights on the police car come on.
How silly was the woman in the SUV.
And how much the dream,
the one where you wish the police were around when you really needed them,
for once, came true.

Snow that i like

Snow is not something i like, as a rule,
but,,,

 Last night a few, 

small white flakes,

brightened the night sky.

Barely wetting the pavement, 

not making it slick

or dangerous.

They were pretty.

Not hassles of driving through slush, 

nor finding the black soot,

 covering it all after a few hours.

This is the snow that i can deal with.

The other stuff,

the one that sticks 

and accumulates

into a putrid mass of difficulty?

It is a four letter word to me. 

The witching hour

Or is it a time of salvation?

Not midnight,
but I am awakened some nights
In the early morning hours,
By God
Or my own heart,
I can not tell.
At this time,
I wrestle with angels
Or demon
Or myself,
Finding things deep within my soul.
These are what my adventure has been about,
Not the eyesight
and double vision.
Not the balance
or lack thereof,
But this, this struggle for my soul.
Anger
And rage,
Comes in an instant
And I seek to understand its depths.
Loss and confusion also comes
And I seek for clarity.
The inability to complete,
things that I start,
With out help
And that help is not always there.
Today my answer was forgiveness,
Above all else
And it has freed me for yet another little while.

A thief?

There is a thief in my life
and daily,
i am being rob.
The thing that is taken is not money,
nor gold,
nor jewels,
for they are unimportant.
It is not friendship,
nor peace,
nor even time,
which are more important still,
but they have not been touched.
What is being robbed
is a time of quiet,
a time to reflect,
a time to ponder and pray.
Too much busyness,
to cold to sit on the porch
or to escape in the quiet of the evening.
In spring,
that which has been stolen will be returned,
but will i survive until then?

These kept me company until the beginning of December and they are gone today.  

They helped me find that quiet place in my soul,

Politics - not Stamford

I was reacting to some political news recently
and i find my heart burning.
The cry for less Government
is being hailed as something good,
but what i see is that effects the poorest
and least able to care for themselves.
The proposed New York City Budget,
cut services to the mentally retarded.
Churches do not pick up the slack, they simply do not have the commitment.
But this is how it is, the least able to defend themselves are the first to be cast off.
It makes my heart burn.
This is the selfishness of people,
"I want to be taken care of, to hell with everyone else!"
Let them live that cry,
it is shallow
and will bring them and us no good.

Coming home

The wind rumbled and thundered,
Like a distant fright train,
The kind people talk about before being struck by a tornado,
But it was not a tornado.
It was just the wind
And rain.
It body slammed the house
And made it shudder,
But we were safe and dry inside.
Coming home,
I was soaked,
With my umbrella blowing inside out many times,
Because of the wind,
But I am not the wicked witch of the west
And so I did not melt
And arrived home safe
And intact.