A collaboration with Jack**

For within the veil of darkness
where shadows dance in place of light
Searching for answers…lost smiles
along a curved road of desperation…I reach for your hand

You, my anchor, my beacon of light
shine down on me this day
call my name over roars of bitter sorrow
so that I may chase its echo back to you

And of this night I sing your name
melodic whispers upon a moonbeam
slowly peering through a saddened haze…parting
illuminating the silhouette of your beauty

Then we shall dance upon stardust
our arms and hearts entwined
no more by darkness captured,
your loving hand in mine

Now as we touch I find this light is not of me,
not of moon glow shimmering on the mist,
nor stars twinkling on a velvet night, it glows of your smile
which I have so longed to see…once again

Fly away little bird
flee from the blackness that swarms ever closer
it's bible-weight threatening the air in your fragile lungs.
Quicker now little bird, I beg you!
Soar above the hurt that dares
capture your soul
it has no comfort to offer
no warmth to grant
it will break your fragile wings
and steal you away to darkness
where your poet heart will sing no more.
Fly little bird. Please won't you fly...

I didn't cry when I heard of your passing, didn't fall to my knees or scream at the sky, you would have hated that anyway.The world went on around me, daily routines soaking up time like a desert soaks up precious drops of rain. Your funeral had gone before I heard the news, no black-draped graveside gestures for me. 

All I could think was "that's another one of us gone" both of you too soon but the tears didn't come.

 Days turned into weeks, as they will...

Then came the music, funny how music can do that. My speakers spoke of Jesus riding a motorbike and there you were, dancing, or something like it. Your face radiating happiness as it always did when we misfits were all together, that grin, oh how I miss that grin, wide as the grand canyon and equally beautiful. I laughed, mascara black tears staining my cheeks, as a torrent of despair set forth, bleeding old wounds and cleansing my heart. I still miss you, even now, you with your ever- worn parka and your party tricks deemed unacceptable in polite society, I always will. I wrote you a poem. You wouldn't like it, because it's sad, the one thing you never were...

an open book
with a lot of
missing pages.

Elizabeth Wortzel**

I'm the girl who is lost in space, the girl who is disappearing always, forever fading away and receding farther and farther into the background. Just like the Cheshire cat, someday I will suddenly leave, but the artificial warmth of my smile, that phony, clownish curve, the kind you see on miserably sad people and villains in Disney movies, will remain behind as an ironic remnant. I am the girl you see in the photograph from some party someplace or some picnic in the park, the one who is in fact soon to be gone. When you look at the picture again, I want to assure you, I will no longer be there. I will be erased from history, like a traitor in the Soviet Union. Because with every day that goes by, I feel myself becoming more and more invisible...

~

In a cavern long about the edge of time
dwells a sadness deep upon my heart,
where fragments of my imagination
cry out from a desolate vault,
iron clad and riveted
of a stone mason’s might
Welded shut, encrusted with fear
and loneliness in unsealed envelopes
addressed to someone other than me


Where neighbors retrieve and process,
regardless of names and stamped signatures,
unwilling to pay the postage now due
of an encased glass tube shoveled
away to linger on each odd figure
that falls from the reaches far above my head,
dropping square tears from round eyes,
mapping my cheeks
in solitary traces of dual vertical weeping


Self imposed some may say,
and they could be correct, though
when it comes to Forgotten, that heart of gold,
worth more than its weight in life,
pays more attention to the fate of others
than collecting breaths of this or any
next door, across the fence wisdom
For if they hurt…those who shouldn’t,
then what is the use


With heavy stone in hand I tap…
loudly on the reinforced tarnished structure
in a series of dots and dashes, eleven-eleven,
chaos on some calendar's clock, but patterned to the beat of my heart
saying…you are loved, you are missed,
you are needed and most importantly,
you are not alone…hoping the numbered echoes
land upon listening ears, (if even on my final breath)
and she can smile once more, and I can feel it...once again

His pants were nearly down on his
Knees. His ballcap was more than
Askew. She  
Was way beyond eighty, as swift
As a snail.
The traffic more "train" than a
Queue.

His friends were all laughing, and
Yes, so was he. Suppose it was meant
As a joke.
But so gently he took her by arm and
Across; our gratitude's all he
Provoked.

She thanked him with eyes that were
Wet with relief. And left us bystanders
In plain disbelief.
He bowed like a gentleman, bid her
Adieu...
Doing as real people do.
-
I knew I had hurt her by ways of a
Child; thoughtless and  
Unconsciously.
I asked her the next day to sit for a
While. And accept my apology.

She said with her hand on my cheek
Like a mom: "No need for it boy, I
Know you.
It happens to everyone under the
Sun... You acted like
All people do."
-
I've nothing but gratitude every day
For people acting in every way
Thinkable, all we're expected to
Is to do just as all people do.

Sometimes we are kind, but more
Often than not
We're selfish and cruel and
Demanding a lot.
But it's worth it, I think, for those
Angel-like few
Who do things as real people do.

~

I’ve taken from this endless dream
a sight for sore and weary eyes
When clouds of morning frown of dark
and winds howl in serenades for dancing leaves

Still...life exists in rotted stumps and fallen branches
on fence lines overgrown with time
As weather changes in the east,
where through thick drapes eyes peer

White on white and foot step designs scatter,
erratic as the snow flake waltzes…
Another day, filled with desires beyond the pane
where fingers have etched a heart… breath exposes

And moisture runs downward, streaking glass
into cupped hands that long the taste
of life far removed from this frozen nightmare
and I offer my endless dream to you…to share