Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

My father was a twin
Richard and Robert
My uncle: I never met
Although I could feel him sometimes

My father did not know
That I could feel things like that

Tears rolling down my face
Cannot erase the many women
I had to wade through just to get a hello

I was your only daughter
My cousin Richard was my only ally

We stole pills from grandma s cabinet
And drank and did cocaine
My father got drunk

All these stories
That fall like tears in my lap
Because I was such a sap
For my father

I cried because I was embarrassed
Because the guy he left at my grandmas was argumentative
And he claimed to his?? # wife—
That was his “ bodyguard “
He was a crackhead that sold me a bike
For twenty dollars
Having been around people like this
What seems like forever
I know when that look of desperation
Crosses their face

That the disease is calling to them
Feed me - caress me- take care of me
For so long I thought it was my job to love the unlovable

I dreamed of long sunny peaceful afternoons
With a frisbee dog
The family is all on the other side now
Except my children and I’m
A grandma now
My heart swells with joy
The prospect of seeing them
Thrills me
But my body is dragging g me somewhere
Suggesting that maybe I work at it
Take a minute to trust
That the stories come out
Tears will shout
Doubt stained the encouragement
She expected
Too much before he died that they would have a minute

for me as I've aged I've spent a lot of time
trying to answer and deal with many of the issues you list here
with my parents...my sister...who I was....who they were
I think it's a natural process as we seem to personally change a little every decade

it can be sweet, or it can be a torment....or something in between
in the end, finding the simple joys of family and friends is a wonderful discovery
and the history is just that........history

a good, honest write

Thank you very much

so many whys
I could fill my soul
to the brim with questions
that tug like a dog
on a rope in your hand
resisting
so many days gone by
so many daze
gone by

Peaceful-; soothing writing
Like a river leading the soul

Morning in the wee hours
I’ll write with the sun on the rise
In the meantime
All I want is to close my eyes-