8 million to one

i saw 4 cops – security i thought
well dressed
jovial – handsome – “yo rosie”
“wasssup men” my common reply

we walk toward one of the quiet booths
behind the stairway
i am tired
this is the first time i have been out

out of bed really – to be honest
since the debate
i have been sleeping a lot
depression clings to me

it’s hard to walk
to shower
to try
to care

i see a couple
sitting close together
in a small corner booth
directly across from me

i watch them
stunned by her face
and his calming charm
they were definitely a THEY

obvious for all to see
oblivious to all seeing them
love works like this
i thought

two
so connected
alone together
in a crowded corner

“that is the most beautiful woman i have ever seen”
i say aloud to dana
she turns to look – turns back at me
“that’s ivanka”

can’t be i said
no it can’t be
it is –
she reassures me

what r the chances i say to myself
as dana walked to the hostess station to ask
i stared at the young couple
as they ate – unaware

i was captivated by her beauty
it blinded me so
i didn’t realize it was even her
til dana walked back to the table –

nodding slowly
yes
she said
it was

dear god
i prayed
guide me
out of here

we stood to move to another table
but i knew i could not stay
my heart i worried
would break again

it did 4 years ago
i won’t survive another one
change ur life
is the prescription

i walked the 5 steps toward her table
introduced myself
she smiled genuinely
her husband was warm and gracious

i told her of my children
some truths about myself
my pain and shame
she was absurdly kind

“i just wanted u to know”
i said in a shaky quiet voice
i then made my way down the large wooden stairway
into my waiting car

the entire encounter
start to finish
was 4 minutes
max

i wrote a book once
about bashert
the concept of
meant to be

it has comforted me
on my darkest days
when my inner voices scream
u deserved it

as her father has
same as my own

survival

A Litany for Survival
by Audre Lorde

“For those of us who live at the shoreline
standing upon the constant edges of decision
crucial and alone
for those of us who cannot indulge
the passing dreams of choice
who love in doorways coming and going
in the hours between dawns
looking inward and outward
at once before and after
seeking a now that can breed
futures
like bread in our children’s mouths
so their dreams will not reflect
the death of ours:

For those of us
who were imprinted with fear
like a faint line in the center of our foreheads
learning to be afraid with our mother’s milk
for by this weapon
this illusion of some safety to be found
the heavy-footed hoped to silence us
For all of us
this instant and this triumph
We were never meant to survive.

And when the sun rises we are afraid
it might not remain
when the sun sets we are afraid
it might not rise in the morning
when our stomachs are full we are afraid
of indigestion
when our stomachs are empty we are afraid
we may never eat again
when we are loved we are afraid
love will vanish
when we are alone we are afraid
love will never return
and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid

So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive”

BORDERLINE

by Joni Mitchell

Everybody looks so ill at ease
So distrustful so displeased
Running down the table
I see a borderline
Like a barbed wire fence
Strung tight strung tense
Prickling with pretense
A borderline

Why are you smirking at your friend?
Is this to be the night when
All well-wishing ends?
All credibility revoked?
Thin skin thick jokes!
Can we blame it on the smoke,
This borderline?

Every bristling shaft of pride
Church or nation
Team or tribe
Every notion we subscribe to
Is just a borderline
Good or bad we think we know
As if thinking makes things so!
All convictions grow along a borderline

Smug in your jaded expertise
You scathe the wonder world
And you praise barbarity
In this illusionary place
This scared hard-edged rat race
All liberty is laced with
Borderlines

Every income every age
Every fashion-plated rage
Every measure every gauge
Creates a borderline
Every stone thrown through glass
Every mean-streets-kick ass
Every swan caught on the grass
Will draw a borderline

You snipe so steady
You snub so snide
So ripe and ready
To diminish and deride!
You’re so quick to condescend
My opinionated friend
All you deface all you defend
Is just a borderline
Just a borderline
Another borderline
Just a borderline

© 1994; Crazy Crow Music

yellow by liz

I wake with the sun
And walk amidst everything
she has rinsed in rose gold

I smile as the grass bends to wave hello
The wind pirouettes
And graciously sends
A soulful breeze
Through emerald trees
Whose clapping leaves
With smooth edges
And perfect pleats
make it so
I am touched by the trees

Yet it is the yellowness of the flowers
that makes my heart take a knee

When I witness daffodils rejoicing
with their stems stretching
Whose perfectly petalled faces
Are upturned in praise
Beneath a buttery sun
The best preacher there ever was.

My hearts’ hymn is Hallelujah
My soul is in full bloom
As my body flowers into the Spring of its life

For I feel
And I see
And I know
I am as rich as I will ever need to be

For how generous are the daffodils
in their fields of charity

Glittering like gems
Gleaming like gold
Giving all their riches away for free.

William Butler Yeats

THE SECOND COMING

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?