Bldg 3 Rm 116

This is this year's Valentine's Day poem. And a Waiting Room poem.
Arrin & I met while cast of "Annie Get Your Gun" - he was Wild Bill. I was an Indian Snake Dancer, Joshua played one of Annie's brothers, Tavis made his debut as one of the "indian" children. At that time Chemeketa did not have a theater per se; we used "found areas", in this case ...
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Bldg 3, Rm 116
*denotes lyrics to “No Business Like Show Business”,
Annie Get You Gun

As I stand here

again

where our story began

Can you be with me?
Here?
Here in this room
where our story began?
Even the carpet looks the same.
I like to think you are here right now,
I like to think that I can feel you here.

It was a good beginning

*“There’s no business like show business
No business I know;
Everything about it is appealing
Everything the traffic will allow
No where will you get that happy feeling
Then when you’re stealing
That extra bow”

Here was where written lines where given life
where music was given voice.
Here was where wood was hammered
& painted to become a stage.
Here is where we hung lights

and rehearsed

and choreographed
and took places in the spotlight.
Here was where there was an Annie
and a Wild Bill & a Buffalo
and a snake dancer.
Here there was you
and I
and our children.
Here there was flirtation in the beginning
& a family at the close.

It was a good beginning.

*There’s no people like show people
They smile when they are down
Even with that turkey
That you know will fold …
You may be stranded
Out in the cold.
Still you wouldn’t change it
For a sack of gold …

Let’s go on with the show …”

And now it is 22 years later And I
no longer know my lines, my role changed.
It’s is late and I’m visiting the room that started us

This carpet looks the same, blue with hints of orange –
(did they not even change the pattern?);
the deep blue seats with fold down writing trays,
no outward sign of aging.
The low steps we danced on,
the ceiling with the framework.
Curtains now hang down
framing a movie screen.
The walls are no longer temporary;
they have become permanent.

It was a good beginning.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and you

still remain my valentine – I am alone.
Though I like to think you are here,
here in this room with me right now.
I could be deceiving myself. But I like to think
I can feel right now, here with me.
I don’t know what to do about our son –
your son. He doesn’t want me. …
Our sons and their alienation –
things are de-evolving on me;
I can’t script us back together again,
can’t choreograph the steps to take.

But here?
Here was a good beginning.

Let’s go
on with the show.

Ariel
Feb 13, 2013

Drive Home

Drive Home

 

Today, I was driving home to you.
Today, evening commute on the highway,
winter’s sun already darkening a sunset
a deepening rose over our town
I was driving home to you
as I did two years ago,
I was already anticipating our conversation,
how I would tell you of my day,
of the morning staff meeting and Deb’s leaving
and the afternoon’ doctor appointment
and how I hate change
And of how my car needs a brake job
& your car needs its winter tires.
I knew the words you would say
as you finished the last preparations of dinner.
You said them two years ago
or something similar.
I could smell you in the new van.
My hand felt how yours would curve
around it, your thumb a brush across the palm.
And then, two miles out of Keizer, I remembered.

Two years ago, I came home to you.

But not since.


Ariel
Nov 26, 2012

Joshua

Joshua

 

Put flesh on these bones;
Give me back my tongue, my voice.
Stop demanding silence and the end to tears.
 
I used to think there could be no pain as sharp
As losing a child,
Not having a child,
Letting go a child -
‘tis true.

Letting go of one and holding the other

So both are not lost.
How can I not blame myself,
Cannot blame naivety ?
I knew what broken was.
I thought of how wolves take in young,
Give them the warmth of fur and milk -
What did I know?

I thought you flesh of my flesh.

I treated you as flesh of my flesh.
I thought of you as flesh of my flesh
‘Tis true
And now I must save flesh of my flesh from you
 
I blame myself
There was something as a young mother I missed
Some golden key you thought silver or bronze.
You were only nine; I thought still mutable,
Still able to learn, to be given the deficit;
Your mother was wrong, I thought I knew better.
I thought I could save you – I knew how it felt -
a shadow of a boy wanting to be a Pan.
Perhaps someone better could have;
Perhaps someone not living as a shadow themself.

I never had the right thread.

I used to think there could be no pain as sharp

As losing a child,
Not having a child,
Letting go a child.
‘Tis true.
 
Even alive, I still lost you.
“Flesh of my flesh”,
You’ve cut me deep to the bone.
 

Ariel

Nov 25, 2012

Ants

Ants

 
 
I’ve never been one to believe in fairy tales,
to be honest. More the SciFi nerd.
You see, I’m more the kind to kill ants
in the kitchen, if they can be spotted.
Reaching out with a fingertip
And crushing.
Not wait until they find the food;
Once you let one in, the whole lot move in.
And then where would you be.
 
Where's the ants,
when you need a distraction?
 
 
Ariel
Nov 19, 2012

Snuffed

and yet another poem for Arrin's son ...

Snuffed

I don’t keep a candle

            in the window for you anymore.

I snuffed them & in fact

            keep the window dark 

So I can see out it

            scan the perimeter

in case you start a sortie

            an incursion.

I won’t be caught unprepared

            this time;

you have taken the mask off

            too many times for me to forget;

Your smile is a mask you wear

            misleading, disarming. Dangerous

as holding a hand

            right above a flame;

flesh gets burnt, gets scarred

            at any close proximity. 

What was harder was snuffing out

            my heart and bias for you,

reminding myself true family is

            a way people treat each other;

Love is an active verb

            and burns truer than any words.

So for you – my heart is covered.

            you have taught that to me –

your proxy mother that scattered

            candles throughout our home,

the one who kept a room for you

            no matter how far or long you roamed -

but then, I did not realize

            you’ll bring the violence home.

I didn’t realize you burned with it,

            that it lived beneath the mask. 

 

Ariel

Nov 5, 2012

Your Life Before My Eyes

Another for my Arrin's son, who is not dead, but I mourn for ...

Your Life Before My Eyes

 

I’m unraveling that web you spun

around my heart, looking at those flaws

my eyes consciously shied away from.

The searing lightning of impatience,

roiling tempest of temper on the horizon,

the blood red fists that played with matches. 

It was yesterday, you a neglected nine

trying so hard to be an unaffected

animated character (damn, you would

piss me off), a rude disinterested clown

drowning without anyone to see

you were smart, you were funny, you

wanted your daddy, you wanted

your mommy, your sister; you wanted

to be a kid, to be loved. You hated that

you only had me (damn, I would piss you off -

acting like grades and manners were important,

enacting limits & time-outs & groundings)

You learned; multiplication and division

finally made sense. You learned what to say

and how and when, but not why

and not how to truly mean it. And you

learned how to do what you wanted to do -

crossing from one ocean to another

(but you insisted alone). And I kept your room.

 

And now I’m packing it up, empty boxes

I am taping up and filling with your adulthood.

I have sealed the house against you,

wedged the windows, rebuilt the fence,

hope the police locate you; your brother and I

pray against the day we look up and you are there.

I keep the gun loaded and close – I remember

“I will do what I want when I want”, your hand

on the gearshift, your butt in the back seat –

a telling tale, you wanted me to parrot words.

You told yourself I was not your real mother;

you wanted me to release you.

 

So I do.

 

Ariel

Nov 1, 2012

Changing The Locks

I am posting this one to Arrin's child here - because, unfortunately this too is part of the story. My stepson, though alive, is no longer part of my life. His choice & I mourn that. A death often can cause the other family bonds to shatter. And it is another piece of Arrin I have lost. So ... to Joshua:

 

Changing the Locks

 

I know we had fought before

And I know you have long been grown

Yet, I was not prepared to say goodbye

And I never planned to lock you out of home 

How did this happen, why did you choose this path?

You jumped tracks on me, careened until our bond burned

And I’m wondering was my desire for family

Blinding me to how much violence “my child” had turned 

So now instead of sheltering you

Instead of giving you a mother’s love

I pray for the police to catch you soon

I fear what will come of your temper and blood 

I changed the house locks and use them

Start at backyard sounds, use motion lights

I never conceived how I fear the boy in you, the rage

you sparked a nightmare when you attacked that night 

You were my child, and now you’re not

And now the future, the locks are set

Your cold temper has chained our stories

Your grown resentment may end us yet 

There are times my disbelief

Almost talks me into letting you back in

Then I look at the damaged furniture and walls

Look at the scars and realize I could never win. 

I was not and still am not

Prepared to let you go

And yet, and yet how can I mourn the loss

When I must hide from you so?

 

Ariel

Nov 1, 2012

Autumn

Autumn

 

 

I’m seeking refuge in comfort

Something smooth and

Forgiving against the skin,

Fire and wood to warm a soul

Cold from memories pull.

A small companion.

 

With baritone strings, my mind

Seeks to mend again –

I am worthy. Soft rich fabrics cover me.

I am here. A nest insulated from the world.

I am forgiven. Redeemed from any sin against me.

 

Stripped and stripped again.

Clothes and flesh and thought.

Distilled. Dilution removed.

Ego, youth, pride.

Awareness remains.

 

 

Ariel

Oct 28, 2012

Not Human Yet

Not Human Yet

Half blind, half deaf; no nose, no teeth;

I’m not human yet.

I tried to hold on and failed;

I’m not human yet

Reached out for help:

I’m not human yet

There are holes in my fence;

I’m not human yet

The door locks have changed;

I’m not human yet

I sleep with a fist of metal and grit:

I’m not human yet

At the sound of noise, I prowl.

I’m not human yet.

Ariel

Oct 25, 2012

Instuaration\How I Rebuild

Instuaration\How I Rebuild

I carefully negotiate the ticktock traffic

jam of thoughts,

Chockablock bookshelves of voices

shouting at each other;

I stack them against the tickytacky walls,

Lean the strident against each other

Hurlyburly in the aisles like lodge poles;

Maneuver the shim sham until

They are more stable, more shim, less sham.

Finding toe holds and strong  fingers,

I climb to the top of the propped pyramid;

My feet on their pickapart shoulders,

On their flipflop faces

I push up against the ceiling

To claim breathing room.

I am me. I have a right to exist.

Ariel

June 23, 2012

Ash

Ash

I am lost,

ash-clothed,

among the crags and rookeries

of my shattered mind.

When the volcano blew again

it was my mind that left vulnerable;

the unrelieved lava splicing the landscape

into valleys and gullies,

no longer touching each other,,

words onto themselves like primordial soups.

incessantly burning, steaming.

Bridges that were persistent,

left charred ash at the base of burled cliffs

and I am at the base with them among burning words,

picking my way through molten rock.

and cauterized thoughts;

an eternal child, raising my ashen face to the sky.

How do survivors continue ad rem?

Blanked time spliced time -

how do I circumnavigate?

How do I excogitate back to the level ground?

At one time, the tectonic plates were one.

At one time, the words and thoughts were one.

At one time, I was one.

But I live under a volcano

and learned under its ash layers -

and therein lies the survival

I learned by living in the primeval stew

Crags and rookeries can be climbed.

Plateaus and  pueblos can be circumnavigated

But you must be willing to delve through the gullies first to reach them.

And words, glowing words, may burn the hands

but carried up to the surface

they build my bridges out of rock.

And, oh, all the evolutionary opportunities!

What grows from the ash!

Ariel

February 22 2012

And Today ...

And Today …

I feel heavy, fighting gravity;

Thick slabs of flaking mud

making up my feet,

my thighs.

Ariel

Feb 1 2012

Dream

Dream

In my dream, I’m chasing you

Video footage capturing your childhood

Your home town

All the while a lecture Of UV Rays

Provides the soundtrack

A picture of you leaves a blank

Ariel

February 1 2012

No Fires Allowed by CC Willow

House Equals Hope

House Equals Hope

“People with no hope are easy to control”

The walls have survived your passing.

They still surround; the doors still open.

The wood has absorbed your breaths

and daily exhale it into still air.

The floor still presses against your footsteps;

the curtains attempt to shield you yet from the sun.

Your last book still waits for your fingers;

the imprints still show you sitting in your chair

To a house, time does not exist;

we always exist there, our movements

fixed in it’s memories as a constant now.

Every inch filled, sealed with existing.

Don’t ask it to forget, don’t ask it to be aware

if I’m to survive your passing.

Let us exist every moment of our life as if in a loop

and daily exhale it into still air.

Ariel

Nov 3, 2011

Poppy by CC Willow