10/16/08
1:19 PM
“Ten/Thirteen”
How odd that I’d feel loss
At something not quite given, but now wholly claimed.
Steal this date and time;
You’ve stolen before.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Losing Touch (Old Soul)
10-8-08
1:50AM
Losing Touch (Old Soul)
I have come to believe
that losing touch with someone
from an older generation
might be closer to a death sentence than
mere forgetfulness.
We’re happy children—we grow up
—and, not knowing any better,
our lives begin drifting,
apart we go,
to be lost—vanish—until
a chance reminder brings
back from a vague sea of circumstances and situations
some small fish of specificity:
A stuffed animal puppy
A mask in a hospital room—tepid, thickened water
A gruff “Thank you”—a plaintive “Dear” from the next doorway—once strong now half-blind and weakly grasping for guidance
A Braves cap, covering a newly bald head—always gracious—still hungry for carrot cake, ice cream and hot tea—encouraging, humble honesty
I wish I could hold tight to the ever-slacking line
and not lose this fish-specific.
Let me catch and clean from it every bit of
knowledge, inspiration and grace—
cannibalize this old soul so that my still deft fingers
might capitalize on my potential.
1:50AM
Losing Touch (Old Soul)
I have come to believe
that losing touch with someone
from an older generation
might be closer to a death sentence than
mere forgetfulness.
We’re happy children—we grow up
—and, not knowing any better,
our lives begin drifting,
apart we go,
to be lost—vanish—until
a chance reminder brings
back from a vague sea of circumstances and situations
some small fish of specificity:
A stuffed animal puppy
A mask in a hospital room—tepid, thickened water
A gruff “Thank you”—a plaintive “Dear” from the next doorway—once strong now half-blind and weakly grasping for guidance
A Braves cap, covering a newly bald head—always gracious—still hungry for carrot cake, ice cream and hot tea—encouraging, humble honesty
I wish I could hold tight to the ever-slacking line
and not lose this fish-specific.
Let me catch and clean from it every bit of
knowledge, inspiration and grace—
cannibalize this old soul so that my still deft fingers
might capitalize on my potential.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
"It's Not Your Fault..."
How to you convince someone, who is already having a bad day, that an unfortunate circumstance isn't their fault and that you're not mad at them as a result? Aware of what happened, I was more than happy to try to fix the problem, but she didn't want to hear anything about it, positive or negative. Guess I'm just too new to the whole marriage thing.
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