Monday, November 24, 2008

More Prose, Less Cons.

What is Love?

Well?

What is it?
I know, - Its corny.

But everyone seems to be an expert now days.
What does it mean to love?
To be loved?

And when I say loved,
I mean
Unconditional.
Without Regret.
More than Boy Meets Girl.
Lust at first sight.
Tingling in my Heart.
Kind of Love.

Pure.
Undefiled.
True to all people.
Kind of Love.

- Show me that Love.
Love that is no Respecter of persons.
Love that knows no bounds.
Love that is Blind.
Blinded by the love by, and for.
It’s People.
Of its one, and only, Created beings.
One of a kind. Like no other.
(There is a REASON no one’s fingerprints are the same.)

Show me that Love.
Love that follows no rules.
Unbiased.
Child-like.
Innocent.
Untainted Love.

Love that doesn’t know.
Where hate doesn’t exist.

Love that sees no:
Black. White. Gay. Straight.
Democrat. Republican.
Christian. Muslim. Buddhist. Mormon. Jewish.
Male. Female.
Guilty. Innocent. Rich. Poor.
Young. Old.

Show me THAT love.
And then, Maybe then.
I will Understand.

My Jesus.
My Patchwork God.
My 19 year old. White Girl. GED Recipient. Southern Baptist turned Non-denominational Christian former atheist.
Homosexual Loving.
Wants to be my FRIEND.
Not my boss.
Jesus.

Fits THAT definition.
THAT description.
Of Love.

And I’m sure,
That if he Can love me.

You won’t have to worry about any kind of Love.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

National Survivors of Suicide Day. Poem : Any Final Thoughts?

I've been working on this poem, or prose rather, for a few weeks now. Today is National Survivors of Suicide Day, and so I finally sat down and finished it.
I wanted to share it with those who have been affected by Suicide, Whether it be a close family member, friend, teacher, or neighbor. I believe that in one way or another we have all been affected by a suicide.

My Uncle commited suicide when I was 11. I did not know the man, I had never met him, and I had never heard many good things about him. My knowledge of him is reduced to a few minute facts. I do remember however, how devesated my father was when he found out.
This is for everyone who has been effected by suicide.
To some it might bring comfort, for others it might not. Just know, that I am thinking of you.

"Any Final Thoughts"
"It is said to take 3 to 5 minutes to die after the heart stops beating.
For the brain to stop functioning, to be "clinically" dead.
I'm a poet, not a doctor,
so for the sake of argument let's say four.
Four minutes from being alive to being dead.
I believe that it those last four minutes; you have a fully functioning mind.
I wonder if your four minutes of final thoughts are influenced by how you die.
I wonder if the man killed in a car accident thinks "I should have taken first street instead of fifth."
or if
the woman who dies of a heart attack thinks in her last moments about the big Mac she had last week,
and if that is what pushed her over the edge.
But I also wonder about the people who intentionally throw they're last four minutes into orbit.
Do they have these same lines of thought?
I believe that no matter how you die,
you spend your last four minutes thinking about the past, present, and future.
I know I can think of a lot of things in four minutes.
Ready?
Set?
Go!

Love - did I love my family enough?
What about my friends?
I wonder if when they read my obituary,
if the first thought in their minds will be
"she sure knew how to love!"

What about my funeral?
Will they play all the songs I want them to?
Amazing because it is, Pass me not oh gentle Savior,
I will follow you into the dark, and when it rains.
Will they play my songs?
Will my headstone be right?
Like Anne Lammott's "she was a helper, and she danced!"
Who will give my epitaph?
Will it be sad?
I want it to be funny.
With lots of fun, crazy stories about me.

And then I think about college.
Clases start soon.
Am I taking to many?
Will I pass them all?
Will I make new friends?
What about the teachers?
Will they be nice?
Easy?

I have a flutter of thoughts.

What should I wear tomorrow?
Should I get my lip pierced?
When will I get married?
Who will I marry?
What was that noise?
Where will I move?
When am I going to travel?
And with those final thoughts
my final four are up.

But what about those who commit suicide?
How do they spend they're final four?
I think they think about the things they've never done,
the things they will never get to do.
Four minutes dedicated to things I've never done.
Been in love.
Gone dancing.
Been to Europe.
Africa.
India.
Paris.
Gotten married.
In Vegas.
Turned 20.
Graduated college.
Had babies.
Published a book.
Taught someone how to read.
Turned 21.
Spoken a foreign language.
Served food to the less fortunate
on
Thanksgiving or Christmas.
Gotten smashing drunk.
Had grandbabies.
I've never done IT.
Any of it.

And to me, just thinking about it could save me from myself.
I wonder if they feel regret.
It makes me think of driver's ed.
The point of no return.
The place where it is to late to stop...
You have to keep going no matter the consequence.

All I know is that in my final four,
my thoughts will include them.
They will be in the list of things I have never done.
Never knew them as they got older.
Never got to sit with them,
on the front porch of the nursing home,
in rockers made for old ladies like us to knit in as we rock.

Never said goodbye.

Never.
Got.
To say.
I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.
You felt.
So alone.

I'm sorry.
I never helped you.
Help.
Yourself.
.
.
.
But then I think.
about the those I have helped.
and while it doesn't make up for you.
While I was thinking about you,
I helped save someone else."


If you or some one you know are contimplating Suicide, Please find someone to talk to. Whether it be a Parent, Teacher, Pastor, or Friend, find someone you can trust, Someone you can share with.
Check out the find help section at TWLOHA.com
or
call 1.800.Suicide