I’m Sorry
Sometimes we seem to be swept up in an epidemic of apology. And yet, many apologies are abusive, retaliatory, arrogant–anything but sincere. What do we do about those people?
Sometimes we seem to be swept up in an epidemic of apology. And yet, many apologies are abusive, retaliatory, arrogant–anything but sincere. What do we do about those people?
It seems like a common word until it starts to describe your life.
When I fell from marriage, home,
bland feats of life-as-I’d-known-it,
coupled-into some twenty-plus years ago,
suddenly everything was a question again.
What is? What isn’t?
All my assumptions broke into pieces:
sharp; slithery; and none-too-shiny.
Portland spoke through my ticklish in-step.
She pressed into the soles of my feet with
rose-and-tumble acceptance,
as I skirted puddles known and unknown.
Restless possiblity swayed along my sides
while Portland steadied my stride—“It’s ok.”
Who knew that asphalt could be a tender touch,
that this patient, old-friend town of mine
would roll out padding and take me easy,
while the stuffing in my head blew ‘round
many cups of coffee: many thanks, Portland.
Every time I confront some aspect of the Holocaust, or Shoah, some part of me understands more, and most of me understands less. It waits there for me to wrestle.
My mother’s decline into dementia, from The Passaggio. Pills to poultry.
It’s only recently that the past has stopped haunting me and instead, serves as an inspiration and sometimes even, a release. Backlighting hails the collective and individual past. It notices the voices trapped in air currents and richness of the future that harvests old tubers, shines weathered patinas and fills the song with a new voice. This is the opening piece of my one-woman show–The Vestibule: Life, love and tears through the midlife lens
One week it seemed like everyone I talked to told me about someone who had too close a call with mortality.
Maybe this is how objects take on personalities. They accompany us through the maelstroms and meals of our lives. We are our favorite toys.
Overwhelm, overload, apathy and cynicism and no end in sight; sort of like gutting a fish on the installment plan.
When they are facing the terrible parts of this world we have to explain to our children terrible things.