The rain came last night —
I could hear the raindrops crashing
on the awnings above my windows
in my living room
Then, just like that
the power went out
Nice . . .
I do not mind the storms or the rain
and I do not mind the rainy days
and nor will I reject the moments
that came with them.
No, and in all fairness;
Some of my most beautiful memories
happened during the rainiest days of all.
Some of my best recollections too.
They happened during rainstorms,
which otherwise came along to break the heat
and the solve the tension of our crazy humidity.
And to me,
I have always seen this as more of a meaningful thing.
I have always chosen to see the rainstorms
as something we needed
like an act of kindness from the Almighty Mother, Mother Earth.
And to me, I see the storms
as The Mother’s way of settling he dust
which come from our fights
and the friction between us
and to say “hush” for the moment
so that we can put down our weapons of mass-destruction
and change our divisiveness
to something a bit more quiet.
I remember back when I was young.
I know. . .
It was long ago.
The Old Man used to teach me
about the clouds and what they mean.
He tried to teach me about the cloud formations
but of course,
my attention was elsewhere.
The Old Man would always tell me
“if you learn how to look,
then you can learn how to read the clouds
and if you learn how to read the clouds
then you can learn how to tell
which kind of weather
is on the way.”
I wish I paid more attention to this.
Maybe I would have learned more,
or understood how to be more prepared
instead of being caught in the rain.
I don’t know who needs to hear this.
So,
I suppose I will take this from here
and send this out to wherever this reaches.
“Keep it if you need it”
and, of course,
“if it don’t apply, the let it fly.”
Or maybe this is me who needs to hear this.
Maybe I need to hear this more than anyone else.
Maybe I need to rewrite my history too
but my history has already been written
and the rest of this mystery
is up to me.
So, in that case, let me leave this here
and say this to myself so that perhaps
I will hear this out loud
and maybe I will learn my own lesson
(this time.)
Preaching from the pulpit
does not make me or anyone else perfect
or sinless
Therefore,
I pronounce my sins
one syllable at a time
to keep from being
“holier than thou.”
We tend to walk along and be confused by a very fine line –
and next, we find ourselves
wondering, worrying, and navigating through the ideas
of blame, shame, fault, guilt
and regret.
And for what?
For who?
Is this to find acountability
of something
or someone who hurt us,
and even still;
if we find out who is acountable,
does this solve that problem?
Does this relieve us?
Does this stop the fact that loss is a killer?
And either way,
wasn’t it us it who died alive?
And somehow
wasn’t it us who had to learn how relearn how to live again
and wasn’t it us who had to be reborn?
I understand the benefits of hindsight
I understand how important it is
to learn my lesson
so that my history does not repeat itself.
But still. . .
My history has repeated itself.
I agree.
This has happened more often than I can count
and my history often repeats itself
worse than a bad meal I had
on a buffet line at a homeless shelter.
By the way,
blame. . .
Blame is a killer.
Trust me. I know.
I have blamed myself for every bad thing
that took place.
I have blamed myself for every crime against me
and every sin
every pain
every scar
every wound
and for every piece of my broken heart;
I have a list of them too
and yes, I blamed myself for each
and all the above.
Not everything that happened is
“your fault!”
and not everything was your fault
is meant to be held
like a heavy chain
or your “cross to bear.”
It’s okay to let go
but yet
here I am telling you
and holding the weights of my past
for all the world to see
In the end,
this is just the end of one thing
and somehow, now,
we find ourselves at a new beginning –
starting over.
Ready or not
here it comes.
Life is here and right in front of you.
Looking back only shows what was behind you.
Looking back keeps you back
and yes, I agree with the terms of grief
or the stages that we go through.
I know.E
I know that everything is accomplished in stages.
There is a beginning, a middle,
and an end to everything.
Including us.
But, ah
here is the cavoite.
Energy can never die.
Albert Einstein said this.
Einstein told us all
that energy can neither be created
nor destroyed.
Energy can only change forms.
My energy is not what it was
and yet, my energy is alive and well
and in need of direction.
Just like electricity needs a switch
to give directions to the light above
I need a switch to turn on my lights
so I can see . . .
Mother,
I am your son.
Father.
I am yours as well.
I saw holes in the clouds yesterday.
I watched the sun try to peak through.
Perhaps to remind me
that the rain does not last forever –
and who knows what the word “forever” means,
if at all, can the word forever
mean anything when we are alive
and in the moment.
Forever is a really long time.
And . . .
albeit small and quick
life is passing
much faster than we I realize.
And still,
I say this with the understanding
that when you and I are in the middle of something
or when you and I are feeling pain or sad,
or when you and I are in the middle of heartache
or loss
or when the world seems unfair;
the idea of forever is long and true
because, just like anyone else.
I thought I would always be destroyed too
forever. . .
I do believe that the word “never” has a purpose.
I will never be in second grade again
and I will never be bullied like the day
when I pissed my pants in the school cafeteria.
Even Mrs. Rowen put me down
and made fun of the purple “emergency pants”
which they kept in the elementary school’s nurse’s office
for just such an ocasion.
I will never be forced to read in front of a classroom again
and stutter like I did.
I will never be laughed at like that again.
Never
because I will never allow this to happen to me again.
Same as i will never allow myself to be abused
or hurt
or inappropriately touched, like “that man” did to me
when I was sall
And I might never be where I was again
and I may never have the comforts I used to have.
I might never own a boat
or be ale to reach the ocean
like I used to.
but hey,
just because one door closed
doesn’t mean that I have to be so mournful
or resentful
and refuse the opportunity of being aware
that there’s another door out there
waiting to open
(just for me)
I don’t know what the clouds have to say about today
or tomorrow.
I’d ask my Father, The Old Man.
But I lost him on December 29, 1989.
Well, in all fairness
I lost him before that
because I was elsewhere
in more ways than i care to confess to
(at the moment)
Then again
Einstein said energy can neither be created
nor destroyed.
It only changes forms.
And so
I know that parts of me can never die.
I know the rain will never die and neither will the sun.
At least not while I’m alive.
Therefore my love will never die too
it’s only changing forms
for now
but for now
can often seem like forever
you know?
The Written Addiction 