When the river touched my feet
I shook my hands in defeat
When the flames touched my hands
They ribboned my bones
…exposing me again.
When the winds passed me by
they left behind the distant sounds
of a baby’s cry
When I finally opened my eyes
to see if a child had died
I was rewarded a medal
for taking it all
…in stride
9 words used:
flames, hands, medal, ribbon, knuckle, bone, baby, open, again
~*~ Inspired by this snippet from Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘The Raven’ ~*~
“Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping,
and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at
my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ -
here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.”
Long ago, in a not so far away land…there was talk of building.
Bridges, they said…let’s build bridges so that we may better understand who resides across the land.
Let not the waters be unfamiliar, let not the waters be so different…so peculiar.
Let not the Borders harness our Humanity, let’s cross them with agility.
A task that would deem necessary more than one Architectural bid.
A task that would deem necessary that our minds be open and even more…fluid.
Slowly the building began
There were gatherings of folks willing to lend a hand.
There were Butch folks, there were Trans folks…and yes, there were Femmes.
Soon there were tables and chairs filled with eagerness and goals
The various plates runeth over, still room for more…in the unmatched bowls.
A journey not yet taken, no one knew what the success would look like
So when one Bridge was complete, someone asked “…but what will happen to the Dyke?”
The Dyke will remain, someone said.
This is an addition…not a changing condition
Then one day…
Something tragic occured, a senseless beating for being Trans…how absurd.
A gathering commenced, support came across the Bridge
There was a commonality, to make equal rights a reality.
In the end, the word was spread.
No more senseless blood should be shed!
And they experienced what success was really about
..with assemblence from the Allies without a doubt.
Without the Bridge, who knows how it would have turned out.
Thanks and appreciation would ruled the atmosphere
Different folks dedicated to change, by lending a hand and an ear.
The strength of the Allies would bring any Foe to tears
But then…
On the Bridge there stood confusion
Trans folks were crossing over – enter Inclusion
Some Butches felt a sudden sense of intrusion
(are the borders still there, or is this an illusion)
The borders were still there, riddled with illusion
Why is this different from the year before?
You crossed the Bridge to help close a violent door
Embracing our differences ~ is this just folklore?
And today…
We’re crossing as Allies, nothing less and nothing more
Perhaps we have been stagnant for so long
Divided by Borders has left wide open sores
Are we blinded by fear that who we are is contagious
Doesn’t anyone like to share space anymore?
…I hear it’s quite courageous
Shall we just put our boxes back in place
Wrap ourselves with neat little bows of leather and lace
Do we not recognize the Bridge we just built?
Do we think if we all stand to one side…it will forever tilt?
What are we to do when our goals been realized
When the old ways and borders are suddenly capsized
Where the Genders remain the same, nothing is recatergorized
Is it possible we have arrived and just need to refamiliarize?
I implore you to hesitate no longer
Leave the napping for a time more somber
Hear the rapping, the tapping at your door
If you open it wide enough, you can see so much more
“……like water under a troubled Bridge ~ let’s remain fluid in our Journeys” ~ DW ~
Would you step on a caterpillar, she asked
Would you kill the future memory of a child
who is fighting for their reason, and one day~
one day when the butterfly was to make its
permanent mark upon the little child
who would bear their first real smile upon the world
that will reflect back upon us through a photograph
…and the butterfly
…would you, she asked?
Would you step on a caterpillar?
How will you know if I do, I asked
She said
When the childs memory…is gone too soon
That’s the day your feet stop touching the ground
And the butterfly is no where to be found
9 words used: Butterfly Fighting Little Memory Life Mark Know Reason Soon
In his will, I was to retrieve a box from his desk drawer.
In that box…was a gold pocket watch.
Just underneath the box…was this letter.
The Eulogy of Bull
‘It’s so easy to get lost in this moment, so I thought I would begin from the
first time I met Bull. There was a small rustic town just on the other side of
Brewers Creek and sometimes Mom would send me there for this or that.
One morning I took a different way and ran into this small cobbler shop.
There was a man inside, he pretended not to notice me as I stood halfway
peeking in the doorway to see what he was doing. When I finally got the
nerve to walk in, I asked ‘Hey Mister…do you know what time it is…?’
He looked up at me and said ‘Boy…I fix broken watches. I never know what
time it is.’ It was that day that I learned just how interesting Bull was.
He had, as I learned through the years…many quirks. He always wore his
next repair on his right wrist while repairing whatever time piece was in
front of him. He said that when his wrist was empty then he had ran out of
work, it was time to fix shoes again. I never pretended to understand
everything about him or the things he would say, but I sure learned a lot
about time. Over the next few years I would stop by and visit with Bull.
He was the best story teller I had ever met. And he always claimed
not to know what time it was…ever.
The summer my Mom passed away from pneumonia, Bull became more
than just the guy I dropped in to visit…he became my close friend and mentor.
I would do my homework in his shop, then he would teach me his trades.
Every Thanksgiving he would order crab from some place in Alaska and
that’s what we ate in lieu of turkey. I think it was his quirkiness that drew
my attention at first, but soon his ways would become my ways too.
Many years had passed, and Bull’s time here on Earth was coming to a close.
I never told him this, but years ago I spotted a gold chain hidden beneath
his vest that disappeared into his front pants pocket. Well last week I found
out what that gold chain was. Bull called me to his bedside and pulled out
this pocket watch and told me if I never let it stop, then I too shall be a story
teller like him. There was an engraving on one side with his name, and he
told me that the engraving was to his Father…whose real name was Bill,
but the engraver made a mistake. On the other side was a detailed engraving
of a crab. Bull then told me something that answered many a question.
When he was born he was set afloat by his Mother, who apparently was
deemed insane…and he was found days later on the coast of Alaska. All that
was with him was a blanket and this watch. He was raised by the locals there
and when he was old enough, they gave him the deed to property obtained in
the fishing trade…and so he set sail on his own and landed here to begin a
shoe repair shop. Funny thing is, he never really repaired shoes, just watches.
When he was done telling me his story, he placed the watch into my hand
and closed his eyes. It was his last story. So I am here today to pay tribute
to Bull, and to tell his story. ‘
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I was done reading, there was only the sound of silence.
Then I heard it…the tick tock of the watch coming from my vest pocket.
“My Father was indeed a story teller. Many of you were blessed with these stories for many years.”
I’ve seen the other side of twilight
By the light of a candle in my eye
It was whimsical, it was dark
It echoed of lost souls
And broken wings
Of lonesome curiosity
Hardened were my tears of wax
Melting upon the break
Of another dawn
As I shivered in the sun
There on the horizon
The epoch arrived with a melody
And Calypso spoke softly
Her words danced
Profoundly in the air
Like silk in the wind
Followed by the echoes
Carried away by the steel breeze
That I followed
Now dancing
Back to the shadows
Of Twilight
It was dark
“May the grin of innocence be forever a shameful scar to this man,
for when it comes time to stand before he falls…there shall be no
ground for which he may stand that will not know… and he will fall below.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I put this together, collaborating a Party Ben Remix of Star Guitar along with pictures from the Butch Voices (www.butchvoices.com) Photo Project…and this is how it came out:
You fascinate me
Frustrate me
Punish me
Heal me
Age me
Make me crazy
You freeze me
You forget me
Pass me by
like you’ve never met me
You diminish me
Complete me
Haunt me
Consume me
Waste me away, yet
You are nothing without me
I love you
I hate you, yet
I will soon miss you
I cannot save you
I cannot forget you
I cannot have more of you
Your name is Time, and yet
You were never really all mine.
Dementia…
Your dementia laughs
as you try to hold face
The weight of your laughter
well, this is not the time or place
This moment in life
was meant for dread
Instead, right now
you think you’re better off dead
Grab your tea
Read the leaves
Sip from the life
of the dark red trees
Curve your philosophy
or you’re sure to reap trouble
Now, look at your tea
Your vision has doubled
Save your laughter
Your dementia will remain
into your ever after
9 Words Used:
Weight Curve Tea Life Save Demented Double Laugh Dread