Lately, the bastard

I seldom poetry anymore
I used to poetry a lot

What happened?
Why is my muse so distant?

This timidness in my psyche
I do not like
I hide
afraid to feel
until lately

I know, I know
But do not want to admit
The damage that bastard wrought upon
my soul

Lately I've felt anger
Lately I've felt hatred
toward
the bastard

Then wondered if
maybe it's toward myself
for allowing the bastard influence
even after seven years

Fuck you bastard
I spit on the ground you walk
I curse your supposed righteous causes

I pray my soul can be freed
from this entrapment
and the muse can again
give voice

A New Place

Every day,
I'm in a new place.

I awake to the sunshine,
for that day.

The bright beams
dispersed from over 92,000,000 miles away,
make landfall to each blade of grass
upon this rock of earth and water
crawling, streaming, galloping

with life.

Everywhere,
there is life.
Some still undiscovered by us human creatures
who roam this rock.

The giant star 

warms our skins.
It lights our paths.
Our bodies and the earth
respond to its life-giving pulses.

As I move through the day,
I am in a new place
each second.
That space is new
only
for that momentary ruffle
in time.
All the ruffles
then cascade and ripple
making a river of time,
gorging renewed
places in history.

If I had a door
through which I could pass back and forth through time,
would I change the past
and thus the present and the future?

Or would I be like the sun?
Simply rise and set,
observe,
indifferent;
yet sustaining the life that is present
in that moment.

I know the sun can be deadly too.
Its indifference is austere,
like the rest of nature.
Stark.
Naked.
Raw.

Science estimates that Sun will burn out
in another five billion years.

Unless our indifference
kills Sun sooner.

I think though,
we would be the first to go.


cwelch
october 8, 2014

~*~

~giant star,  roan highlands, december's end, 2013~

~roan highlands, december's end, 2013, photo by elijah & friends~

Tribe: The Abled-Differently

We are the

abled-differently.

It takes much effort to perform simple daily

tasks.

That fact is a given. It is not the

exception.

We know it well. So, we

adapt.

We don't have to explain or justify our

limitations.

We know we are each doing the best we can on any given

day.

We find humor in our circumstances. And together we

laugh.

We get tired of the struggle. And together we

cry.

Together, we honor each

tear.

We don't try to make the tears go

away.

We don't try to fix each

other.

We don't offer each other unsolicited

advice.

We are well acquainted with

isolation.

We have each become our own best

friend.

We have learned to give in without giving

up.

We don't feel sorry for each

other.

We feel an unspoken bond that goes beyond understanding - it is a

knowing.

We are the

abled-differently.

7/01/2017

~*~
At times I envision myself living with others
Who physically move as I do
The smallest tasks are undertaken
With deliberate concentration and effort

That image of living with these 'others' is a fantasy
Most of my tribes are fantasies 
And I'm okay with that 
But parts of them are realities
~*~

~*~
In a sense...
Are not we all abled-differently?
In various hats and contexts?
~*~