Matters of Heart and Bloody Core (for Kat, whom I love)

Disclaimer:  Constance, I was just reading a friend of mine, one of my very favorite poets.  I am in spoken word group with her.  I looked at some old poems she had read that I loved so much she had given me photocopies…and I realized…aaaaaakkkk!!!!
I had lifted the title for this poem from one of hers!!

DANG IT!!!

So I want to , I need to change that title.  If you have a suggestion, please comment.  For now, I have titled it

“Matters of Heart and Bloody Core”

She rides today, shotgun
in matters of heart and bloody core,
matters of blood, matters of bone,
her flesh become word and wing
and flight to wider blue skies
and pastures…
…rides shotgun atop
treasure boxes soon emptied
but not until
the very last second…God forbid…
please.

She sits, still shielding
but fingers open
and heart unclenched
in the green ritual of becoming
yet again repeated,
yet again echoing
those who flew before by thousands,
swarms searching for Capistrano
and finding college and career and clouds
gathered…and clouds parted.

She rides shotgun,
she, shotgun,
rides with diamond frozen tears
pinned back callous
behind both barrels
cocked and loaded,
her tender torn eyelids
primed with tearshot

(frozen tears rip as they sit
gathered, bunched, clenched)

Waves, washing by, wistful,
irritated, emotions
mendacious and mirror walking
around that carriage of connection
to futures unseen
swirl and caress her face
with terrible talking fingers.

Her heart is still,
on hold,

(she holds him in her heart)

what was once,
and is, and knows
what will be comes…

(Que Sera, Sera!)

…but not yet.

Because across miles, time,
her blood calls to bone,
her soul and spirit moan
remembering, loving, memorialized
and set in stone
forever.

Miles will pass.  Time
will roll by, and that
return of body and bone
will glad at last be known…
and her laugh, her squint,
(shotgun)
her head toss
and still wonder
will echo to her heart
from babies to be born,
but still bone of her bone…

and heart will thaw and
throat unclench
at last and swallow
that diamond lump stark and
glistening with inevitability.

But now…
Across miles, time
she rides…
shotgun

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Momentarily Overwhelmed…

Constance:

I just want to let my WordPress friends know how deeply touched I am to have crossed paths with you, and how much the richer I am for that nexus.  But there are a few in particular, and I think you know who you are, who have just given me things that you do not even realize.

How to talk about a life in the midst of crowds, in the throng and people around and wanting, needing…a life that looked full and busy and complete and populated well by human friends…and yet was empty, austere, colorless and arduous and looming large until death day, release day…Hope Day…

And now…the same people on the outside, getting the food I make (literally and spiritually), and yet bursts and blossoms and riots of color and fragrance and happy giddy joy underlain by deep abiding grateful tears and solid singing spiritual celebration…and some friends!

It is strange to me that in many ways if you read here regularly, you know me better than almost everyone else who knows of me!  🙂

And that overwhelms me…I was just sitting here…looking at your profile pics, and knowing your blogs, your writings and thoughts, and imagining your valleys and hills and gardens…and the tears just welled up.

Thank you!  Truly thank you…you know who you are!

May my Mama, the Lady Grace known to most as Holy Spirit, and Jesus the Merciful Risen Lamb, and the Father of Lights from whom every good and perfect gift comes, bless you this day…keep you safe from things you will never know of, and preserve your feet in the paths of delight and truth…and may you know the Goodness of God in the Land of the Living.

I love you one and all, and will see you on that day!

Love,

Charissa Grace, the grateful and glad gleam of my Lady Grace, my mama!

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Reposting my new hero

Friday Fuzz….on Sunday | Dandelion Fuzz.

I have a new hero…she is representative of a relatively small percentage of parents…and perhaps an even smaller percentage of that small percentage:  She is the parent of a transgender child; and she is refusing to be anything but her child’s greatest cheerleader, and giver of unconditional love and acceptance.

Her name is Kat.

She is walking the walk.

We all “love” our kids, right?  No…we LOVE our kids!  And then they do something…human.  Make a mistake, act without wisdom, or tell us something that is at odds with some of the ossified gender assumptions still embedded in our culture.

When this happens, unfortunately and all too often we “lovers of our children” become harsh, rejecting, distant, abusive, or shaming.  We think we are doing them good…showing “tough love”, or whatever other euphemism we use to cover up the fact that we are not really  loving, without any thought to ourselves and that we are exercising our fear and disapproval and seeking to use these things to control our children’s behaviour.

But there are parents who refuse to turn away, refuse to be their child’s first bully and harshest critic.

Kat is one of them…and it ain’t easy.  It means being a pain-eater and a love giver.  It means being other-oriented and firm on the wall on behalf of their child instead of against.

My parents gave me life, lots of love, and a good headstart in life…but I really do wonder what might have been if along with those things, there had not been the harsh experiences and words over some of those early days?

Kat re-blogged this video, with some great comments…go watch.  In it, you will meet another set of parents…parents who love with open hand and live with open heart towards their darling children.

Kat, you inspire me.  Reading of the price you pay is somehow healing to me, in my own inner child.  Thank you Sis, and God Bless you always!

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