When three beloved family members die suddenly in less than a year, and the waves of grief keep crashing on emotionally barren hearts, while the ravenous Covid reigns supreme across an upended planet, the wounds are deep and my scab over but actual healing it never happens.

Am I the only one who longs to be with kin, to gather and share sadness?  Did I miss a memo to forgo solace, to avoid interest in how everyone is holed up?  Maybe I’m captive in a dark fortress of self-disdain built by my ancestors’, a psychic prison, because once again, the familiar nonentity arises within, sporting a rusty shackle, a bygone, worthless old ma locked inside obscurity, her punishment deserved, a lifetime of solitary confinement, out of sight, out of mind, and dare I say, out of heart.

Or is my suffering a byproduct of centuries of unchecked
ancestral self-recrimination, manifested as genetic despair,
a second nature born again into each generation, a blame/shame gene, a gross cellular overload of fear-filled unforgiveness stamped onto the DNA (don’t never answer) when the olive branch is passed, as another hoped for connection, a longing for forgiveness is ****** to hell.

Certainly, clues are found in the Lahti-Riley clan of silent Finns and Irish drunks, who daily suffered remorse, regret, and never-ending regurgitation something essential is lacking like positive self-regard but ****, those Riley’s sure could put in a day’s work, men and women alike, slogged, hell, they worked their ***** off dirt poor farmers, woodsmen, maids, fixers of things broken, never lost a day, paid their way.  

It’s clear my sorely needed amends of wrongdoing never promised a happily ever after, no, my amends were and still are a fragile beginning, a hold out for hope, an appeal to begin anew, an attempt to clean up my side of the street, to own my wrongdoing while knowing I did what I knew how to do, however hear my painful confession, to be cast out, a nonentity, estranged, alone and forsaken, it seems like overkill.

If I had my druthers, I’d live on an honest to goodness dude ranch in Missoula, Montana, with my very own horse named Shiloh, which if you didn’t know means peace in Hebrew and Shiloh would be pure black, a shiny polished granite coat, a silky mane, a tail swishing forth then back and with a slight and definite nod of her majestic head this magnificent animal would manifest unconditional love throughout the land.

And my life would be lived alongside Shiloh, caring wholly for her, offering juicy apples, grooming her with love and in every single nurturing moment I would learn to care more, later, atop Shiloh, on sunlit path, as she gives a vigorous shiver to shoo a fly off her ****, straight away all of humanity would feel, appreciate the sanctity within the seen and unseen, never again to doubt the sacredness of this amazing life.

Then, on the widening path, as passion arises inside Shiloh, her head high, she yanks the reins, eager to gallop, to be wild, to be free, her smooth gait quickening, scattering birds from treetops,
her snort a glorious trumpet, my legs upon her rigid withers, her hooves pounding the earth, hurling forth holy reverberations beyond the sun, the moon, into the eternal darkness sending compassion throughout the universe again, and again, and again.

Ever consider the possibility Einstein’s E=MC squared was/is more than mere formulation and might we agree old tongue thrusting, crazy eyed Albert exposed the relevance of relativity utilizing science as an ingenious way to name the nameless.

Is anybody here into science dabbling, a postmodern obsession to inspect, question, dig beneath the newest discovery to examine expose the corporate driven scientist paid big bucks to get to the bottom to find out what makes the world tick?

I mean do we really need Hubble telescopes, atom smashers, vaccines, microwaves, Teflon, Velcro, Super Glue, Sweet and Low, plastic toothpicks, super drugs, superbugs, anything Monsanto and the resultant clever *** viruses steadily moving in on us?

May we step outdoors, observe a refuge of green, sniff, gaze, behold what science cannot do, could not create in all the freaking laboratories on earth and in one perfect amazing moment admire, praise, respect the Love factor within the whole shebang,

and let it go at that.

One more social media message recorded at 5:25 am,
her familiar monotone chant, a mumbled abusive taunt,
another claim for something to change, a demand to be met;
an irrational strategy out of old deep pain for the upper hand,
to shame a different outcome for her life,
to put me in my place, as a failure, a non-entity.

My daughter’s 2020 dispatch to her 1970’s mother,
to gain control in an uncontrollable world,
she’s quite unaware her old Ma is gone,
flew the coop, vamoose, worn out, toast;
she’s unaware my reckless life lived only for others is ended,
my worthiness through frantic sought for approval over.

Back in the day this kind-a, sort-a, mother,
tried **** hard to figure out how’s it done,
how to parent while trapped inside an empty,
broken, clueless, twenty-year-old,
wondered everyday how to raise up, nurture, guide,
care for my children while still a kid myself.

Watched my mother suffer, die in an abusive marriage at fifty-one,
for years I’d prayed at the top of the stairs for their fighting to stop,
they never stopped… so I learned to survive my life,
made a “me” up, no internal identity, no actual obvious self,
never took the chance to become someone, instead played the role,
figured out what others wanted, did it, did it well, did it ‘til it hurt.

Now, seventy-two, over ripe, deeply bruised by a life gambled away
bewildered no one left to blame, victim of my own doing,
living but not alive, days and nights of untethered sadness, regret,
still Something beckons, shows itself in the kindness of strangers,
who appear, care, love without agenda, a new family sent
by angels whispering you are loved, you are loved, you are loved.

~ PE Kaplan

When trauma lays bare a soul and its body,
Is it immoral to contemplate the offender?
Is it sinful to wonder about the pain maker’s pain,
To imagine they too may be or have been victimized?

Is this current cruelty an echo of inner torment,
Suffered years before this current victim was born?
Does this most terrible and pain-filled assault,
Signal heartbreak still lives, breathes, waits…

Even with tremendous resolve and determination,
To overlook the damage, the fear, the shame; pain festers.
Until at once the past is awakened, a dormant rage freed,
To claim another innocent into the trail of trauma.

Does a victim in anguish or transgressor in dishonor,
Receive nurture or forgiveness in the human milieu?
Could humankind be akin with trees, oceans, moths, birds,
Be merciful, forgive, love the sinner but not the sin?

Not sure when it happened but happen it did.
Something changed, crept into human life, some kind
of manipulative, self-seeking, anxious germ made its way in.

Just now, a recorded mechanical voice on my mobile.
my oldest daughter vacant, detached, explained how,
she’s free of regret, of worry, of sadness, she’s done.

She specified, she’s had it, accepts her losses, her sorrows.
further, she warns a non-acceptance of my sadness, my grief,
“You need to get over it Ma,” she directs, “Life moves on.”

And I wonder when was grief, regret despair and loss,
removed from some to-do list, like chores no one wants?
When did human suffering become unnecessary or irrelevant?

Did I miss something, what warranted this "fly right" lecture?
Is this a test of my inner spiritual growth; is Love hidden within
this computerized, distant, "Happy Mother’s Day" message?

But the recording made it clear, I must move on or you too,
will become irrelevant, a strain, an inconvenience, to others,
your children need, deserve a better mother than you.

And, I wonder when did the experience of human anguish
become unacceptable, unnecessary, unhelpful, meaningless?
Like some old school thing people used to do back in the day.

Sorry dear daughter, I will honor my grief, my lonely pain,
it’s my life mission to be with my/your humanity in our felt pain,
to hold tenderness for you, for me in our righteous humanity.

It is after all, our Amazing Grace.