Just got hung up on.
who hung up on me,
is hoping that I hire his
He didn’t even bother to say hello.
Just accepted the call,
and waited for his opportunity to end it.
If he had said hello, he would have realized
it was the person he’s been waiting to hear from.
I’m from away. But, I live here now.
Funny how locals can be brutal to
what they don’t know without knowing
what they’ve just done.
I could decide not to need his services.
Now that I’ve been hung up on.
But I’m not like that.
I’d rather chip through the hardened mud
and help to show that people from away
are just as good as the good locals.
And I’m not changing my number.
My father often lived in fear.
Of failure. Of success.
Of what people thought.
At some point,
during the journey of life,
I told my father that
I will not live in fear.
And I don’t.
(Photo taken 7/31/21, C. Maine)
I need to get to the bottom
of what I’m doing
Before the end of it all
I can’t write you into emotion and leave.
I went bald while in college.
That’s why I have a hat, I learned how
to wear it in Turners Falls
Tough people there
tough kids with bats
I was told my forehead was too big.
Wore my hat.
Been in a few fights over that.
Sometimes I win.
Bars look funny when you’re on the inside.
It was a girl btw
who told me my forehead was too big
It’s easy to feel ugly.
My heart is easy enough to please
It’s my mind that wonders
What the middle of time looks like
My 90-year-old Grandmother commented
on a poem that I dedicated to my father-
“No comment–Not sure what to say.”
Which was brilliant.
Though my father was not her son,
she felt my agony. She knows the man
her daughter had married
and loved at one point,
is now dead.
And she is not.
I found my Grandmother’s comment
to be oddly comforting.
Above my office window, stand three letters.
I placed them
As if they don’t matter and can be
moved at any moment.
to be hidden.
Or to charm.
My son picked them out while
visiting my mother in Masshachussetts.
He painted them blue and red.
It was father’s day weekend.
We dropped Gavin off at my mother’s house.
And drove away,.
while I and Megan went to my father’s celebration of life.
I was sick that weekend. I’m not sure what it was.
But I do like looking out my office window and seeing
as I look up
I will not let you down, Gavin.
What might we feel with our inner-heart
that does not come from our lips
at the time of delivery; and what then
does our soul stir within our being
for us to immediately feel our delicate honesty.
let’s do this again.
(Photo taken in Southern Maine. 2021.)
I think about it often-
Kindness and Empathy.
That’s where intelligence
truly lives and thrives.
I’m certainly no angel,
and I question too much about this life.
But, at least I don’t need to question
where my heart and home is.
Not anymore, anyway.