pain

It is 3:00 a.m.

My hands cupped

Snuggly around my

Coffee cup.

The flicker of the fire

Reflects my feelings

As if it is catching

Pain with every spark.

The rhythm of my heart

Beats just enough to get

My attention that I am real.

I miss people who have passed,

the little furry friend I have lost

and Grandma’s home.

I cannot rewind time,

Or reset the clock of yesterday

Or recreate people who cause pain.

Sitting here this morning in

Solitude and still darkness

I am reminded of the truth.

I am present in the early morning,

I am grateful for found peace,

I look to the heavens always.

Copyright:  CMM  2019

at 2:52,

25th, she grew

‘tomboy-to-ribbons’

@ CMM 2018

Happy Birthday Steph 🎂

Rushing

towards me in rhythm

pushing, pulling in tides

of undertow and strong currents.

I rest, for the tides of my soul

are brought into the life of the sea.

Copyrighted:  CMM  2011

I walk upon the canvas

the gray and green elephants 

walk around me. 

Always in dimensional lights

of bright and then dim

the gathering of familiar faces

was all that I could see. 

I look to see upstairs to find

and you were not there. 

I continued down the stairs 

the face of your adversary 

standing fatter and pompous.

A distant call was hung into space

I heard the gritty sound of ignorance,

I heard the sound of disgrace.

I never saw but knew.

I asked this fatter one where,

where were you? 

He turned to another and gave directions

I could no longer contain the pain,

as I beat upon his chest and

cried with years of disdain…  

Copyrighted:  CMM 2016

I think it was chocolate mahogany

                 large rounded carved ornate legs

                 coming down under the broad leaf table.

Grandma made the green gingham tablecloth spread across

over a protective plastic lining beneath.

Seven places for the family in the evening meal,

               three generations of grandparents, parent, children,

              head of the table Granddaddy sat quiet, not saying much.

At the other head, was Grandma; she would talk about the day.

Who did what when, and “lord, it is hot today.”

Mother sat in the middle of my little sister and me.

               She often didn’t say much, when she did, it was measured.

               My older sister sat across from me with her light brown hair,

blue eyes that never smiled.

Next to her, my brother, with his dark hair and light eyes,

glancing often to the criticism that came his way.

There was a lot of pain at the table at Grandma’s house.

                The pain was from the very person who was not present.

                 It was a gift of my father before he left …

The sun would set in the evening over the table of love.

But it didn’t take away the darkness that no one spoke about.

©  copyrighted:   2002 CMM