GNARLED

Cave was carved from crumbling rock,
inhabited by a seagull flock,
which chirped and squawked the day away,
mottled chicks would stretch and play.

Above this cave a gnarled tree
sat watching guard, solitarily,
it felt ashamed, neither green nor tall,
a stubby bush, not much at all.

No matter where the birds would roam,
always they could find cliff home,
for like a beacon, seen from sky,
shrub guided them while they did fly.

So everything does have a role,
be it star or simple mole,
no matter beauty or hidden skill,
we all must do what is God's will.

MADNESS

Over the past few years I have come to appreciate and sympathize with people who have dealt with addicted or mentally ill family members or spouses. The pain, the anger, the confusion. Although I wasn’t totally blindsided, because I always knew my wife had problems, I had no idea how serious it was. No doctor would tell me, either, citing privacy rules. But don’t you think individuals in the best position to help should be alerted to exactly what needs to be done and why, to keep an ill spouse stable? It took some good psychiatric counseling for me to have some understanding of my situation as my marital world spun out of control and crashed, and for me to deal with this tumultuous upheaval to my sons’ lives (as well as my role as what is called "co-dependent"). Yet, I keep asking myself, "What if I had done this?" or "Could I have done thinks differently to right things?" or "Why didn’t I see that?" I still feel guilt, sadness, and loss.

So when I saw psychologist Kay Jamison’s An Unquiet Mind, I decided that I should read it to get a better understanding of bipolarism (manic-depression). It is an interesting book; some passages jarringly brought back incidents I experienced. . .unexplainable actions (ranging from spending sprees to explosions of anger), long periods of zoning out, lies, complaints, paranoia, refusal to take medications, spurts of odd activity, mounds of unwashed laundry, unfinished projects, etc. I was interested in how the disease could destroy relationships. One sentence stood out, as Jamison explained the end of her first marriage: "I was increasingly restless, irritable, and I craved excitement; all of a sudden, I found myself rebelling against the very things I most loved about my husband." I still recall with horror my wife saying I was too boring. The book put into good light many of the stories I heard (and were retold to me later from different perspectives).

Of course, Jamison was in a privileged position within the academic medical profession, with family, colleagues, and friends who were able to protect, help, and shield her from financial and professional disaster, a luxury most victims (is that the correct word?) do not have. I felt at times that she was saying, "Oh, look at me," that she still lead an exciting life, with romance and achievement. Isn’t she one of the exceptions? Having friends that could keep her form losing her jobs and professional privileges, having enough money to be able to take extended breaks, having family members with the financial wherewithal to clean up the mess and stabilize things (could this be jealousy on my part?). I think that if I learned one thing from the book, though, it is the importance of making absolutely sure that your loved one takes their medications, no matter what excuses, no matter what subterfuges they attempt. You have to keep on them, and if you are afflicted, you have to stay on those meds. And what I learned from my own counselors is that sometimes, you just have to move on.

LAW OF THE OCEAN

Silver scales sink in emerald sea
remains of battle, survivors flee
like sunlit rain in forest silent
spiraling down, bottomward sent.

Hungry mouths do now not seek,
tasty flashes. . . the slow, the weak.
No markers note their quiet passing.
except filled bellies, now not fasting.

[I wrote this after watching a nature program on the sea, which featured a segments about tuna attacking a school of sardines.]

BEACH

I stand upon an empty shore,
accursed and feeling low,
my feet sink into sandy floor
the result of undertow.

But heaviness is too at fault
my pain like a dark weight
into the sea I'd like to vault
maybe to be shark bait.

NO! I won't. . . I'd be a dolt,
to waste my lasting time
I'd miss my boys, so cannot bolt
to then become fish slime.

For now this beach I will enjoy
its sunset and warm waves
my boys will soon come to employ
their laughter that much saves.

I cannot wait to see them run
along this pristine patch,
to swim and dig and hunt in sun
for shells to quickly snatch.

My heart'll be light when this day is,
and boys will be with me
it shall be like a heaven bliss
and I'll cry as we watch the sea.

[I wrote this when my boys were gone in Florida and I was feeling sorry for myself.]

NUTCRACKER

Flash of sword, girls with dolls,
he dances smart, I fear for falls,
His outfit's smart, he hits his spots,
stands out amongst the other tots.
The widest grin, his eyes aglow,
A party boy, grey mice in tow.
His role is short, but has a blast,
Happy he's dancing, back at last.

STRAND

Found a strand of long black hair

wondered how it had gotten there,

caught in a blanket on the bed

as if it were itself a thread.

Pulled it out and wrapped it tight

around my finger, for the night.

POETRY

I have decided to move some of my poems, ones I like, over from MySpace, since that site seems to be withering on the vine. I may fiddle with them a bit as well. So if you read a poem you already know, and say, "Man, this guy is getting really lazy," that is the reason! :)