His soul sleeps,
buried far beneath a long forgotten vertical landscape,
yearning for home . . .
it dreams of places remembered; warm places, complete and innocently raw
The perpetual journey through a cobwebbed labyrinth remains a stygian quest at best,
an unanswered prayer, a dimly lit votive, a quiet cry in the dark
the clouds thicken, the earth cools and a winter of the mind settles in
Rolling waves of emotion yield snowflakes of blue
that fall like sleet, slicing the spirit into oh, so many unrecognizable pieces of what used to be a life; where nothing fits or belongs but must somehow remain
still . . .
Who knows when, this sadly shattered thing will end
Only God knows when it started,
But it’s wearing pretty thin, as the winter settles in, covering the frozen man . . .
~m
spasmicallyperfect
January 22, 2008 at 9:42 pm
You make me miss reading good writing.
You make me miss writing.
You make me feel things when I thought I was done for the day.
You make me repeat myself in comments which just reconfirms that
you make things possible that most of just can only dream of.
moonbeammcqueen
January 23, 2008 at 12:20 am
Melancholy thoughts strung together by beautiful, delicate words.
murderofravens
January 23, 2008 at 2:37 am
I always said you have a poet in you, trying to scratch and claw his way out.
-smith
nursemyra
January 23, 2008 at 4:36 am
your father?
Grimm
January 23, 2008 at 7:24 am
This post is making me think you are writing about me since my furnace went out. That is the exact word that comes from my mouth about 20 times a day. FROZEN.
If you are, thanks. LoL!
anonymum
January 23, 2008 at 8:46 am
oh michael, it’s rare i’m stuck for words, but i am here…ordinarily i would find some little thing to make you smile, but these words? nothing….
will email at some point tomorrow night when i settle down a little bit….this has got to me…
moe
>
ozymandiaz
January 23, 2008 at 11:14 am
a sadness beyond melancholy
Lolly
January 23, 2008 at 12:10 pm
Well done, michael.
spasmicallyperfect
January 23, 2008 at 12:42 pm
Had to come back to this.
).
I am not sure you realise how good this is.
I am not sure I do.
Just another piece of proof that the best writing has to come from within.
Trouble is, most people don’t know how to translate.
I’m with Smith on this all the way (since you’re blushing and grinning already
daffy
January 23, 2008 at 4:20 pm
I’ve read this so many times and it evokes a different feeling in me after each read. It’s inspiring stuff.
‘where nothing fits or belongs but must somehow remain’
Wow.
Kelly
January 23, 2008 at 7:34 pm
See Michael, THIS is why I like coming here. You wear your heart on your sleeve in such a poetic way that makes those of us who have never been in your position understand for a brief moment the heartache you are going through. I just wanna hug you, and your dad.
Cheers, Kelly
whyvonne
January 23, 2008 at 10:39 pm
oh, M squared…
this post comes at a strange and somewhat wonderful time.
a. full moon last night…
b. i just accepted a position as nurse manager of the alzheimer’s unit at a facility in natick.
your words are so beautiful and poignant. may i ask your permission to do this piece in calligraphy {with props, of course} to matte and frame and hang in my new office space?
i am so proud that i know you. i hope your own words bring you some fraction of inner peace. Lord knows you have paid enough for it.
- journaling Whyvonne
Red
January 23, 2008 at 11:46 pm
*tear*
Winterland
January 24, 2008 at 4:00 pm
I’ve read this numerous times and it leaves me speechless every time, which is why I haven’t left a comment before. I echo Spaz, this is so very very good. I love it when you write from the heart.
Jennifer
Lynn
January 24, 2008 at 10:05 pm
All is not frozen…..
Your Dad’s heart and spirit may be tired, but not frozen. Your heart and spirit, like your Dad’s, gets tired,but remains caring and full of sunshine, for your Dad and the special memories you have shared!
Let the sunshine on…..
writerchick
January 24, 2008 at 10:10 pm
Michael,
I envy your ability to describe something so utterly sad, so beautifully. You honor your father with these words and all the fathers that share his fate as well.
Annie
joebecca
January 24, 2008 at 11:42 pm
very very nice….
it’s sooo fucking good to be back.. i told you i’d come for you all… and one by one i am!
whythulc
January 25, 2008 at 9:58 pm
This is beautiful but melancholy, sad, and I think I shivered a little bit.
I wish you warmth.
RubyShooZ
January 26, 2008 at 11:48 am
Thanks for sharing what’s in your heart with us. I know writing this stuff doesn’t come easy – or perhaps on some days it flows but it does come and hey, thanks and much love to you and yours.
You’ve helped someone today.
krkbaker
January 26, 2008 at 7:42 pm
me is absolutely IMMMMpressed. loved this.
here’s to the first spring thaw.
kim
joebecca
January 28, 2008 at 10:04 am
http://www.joebecca.wordpress.com
Linda
January 28, 2008 at 3:53 pm
After my Dad finally was so violent and confused that he was a danger to himself and my Mom, he had to be kept apart. I could handle it there in the home, feeding him, patting his hand, bringing him stuffed animals to cuddle. What I couldn’t stand was the rare occasion, the very rare occasion, when the veil would lift … he’d look at me … and he’d say, “I love you, Linda.” In that split second, flash of light, he was back, and then he was gone again.
M, I have nobody else to talk with about this. Thank you for offering a shoulder to us all. And thank you for accepting ours.
awsiv
January 29, 2008 at 3:53 pm
tried to understand… but am too sleepy
.. will be back to read again…
archiearchive FCD
February 02, 2008 at 4:16 am
I am overwhelmed. As a writer I am impressed, as a human being I am humbled.
Grimm's mother in law
February 05, 2008 at 12:39 am
Thanks. My father is frozen too. I know those snowflakes of blue.