Ink in the Blood Posts

Treasure

books

if you’re wondering

where I’ve been

and haven’t seen me

in so long

I’ve probably been hiding

within the pages

of a book

I can’t put down

I feel joy

unmeasurable

when I’m standing in a room

full of books

they comfort me

somehow

and ease my mind

I am still a child

inside

that seeks comfort

in none but a book

I run away

to distant lands

the rise and fall and lift

of words

is like music to me

a lullaby

that rocks me in the night

and when I needed

the strength

that only the right book

at the right time

can afford

one or two or three

they somehow found their way

to me

and only now

at mid-life

do I finally feel

utterly

understood

TL

the Tiger inside

not for

the applause

not for

the trophy

not for

the endorsements

not for

the rankings

not for

the cameras

not for

the cover

not for

the nod

won’t be

for none of that

on Thursday

it’ll just be about

play

for the joy

of being able

to play

the Greatest Game

there ever was

like riding a bike

you never forget

how

you just pick it back up

find your balance

and keep climbing

TL

Shanti Bhavan

they say

“it takes a village

to raise a child …”

in India

they do this

in an incredible

way

watching the stories

unfold across the screen

it reminded me

of Wonka’s “Golden Ticket”

and how the boy from a poor family

is given an opportunity

to change his life, his family’s life

in the documentary series:

“Daughters of Destiny”

they go a step further

in changing all the lives of India

one child at a time

to come from a place of no books

no paper, no pen

then to be given a book

full of words

they don’t understand

and learn how to read those words

until they make sense

how to contemplate them

how to write them

how to re-write them

English, math, history, science, art

it can lift a child

from the darkest depth

out into the light

of understanding

not only themselves

their worth

but others

how the world

works

the good and the bad

the joy and the sorrow

the love and the hate

the giver and the taker

the connection

what it is to live

and what it is to die

TL

Message in a Bottle

I do love

Christmas

but I swear

I jest took

the tree down

yesterday

Thanksgiving next week

Christmas next month

the New Year

2018

I mean really

Really

REALLY

time jest

keeps falling

in the glass

like running water

in a faucet

you become

more and more

aware of this

with each passing

all the memories

moments given

wrapped with ribbon

like Andy Whitfield

once said

“be here now”

TL

Thank You

when they

leave

their home

their very land

some come back …

and some don’t

some come back …

and can adjust

and some come back …

and can’t

some come back …

physically changed

and some come back …

mentally changed

and some come back …

but they’re still there

and they do this

time and time

again

simply so

that other things

important things

can stay the same

here at home

in their very land

TL

Sunlight on the Sea

I have a

fistful

of diamonds

cut

from the corners

where water falls

frozen

icicles in the sun

drop

one by one

shattered

I stoop

and pick up the shards

and carry them

to the edge

of an endless sea

my hand unclenched

i’m blinded by

the sun

TL

Behind the Scenes

it took

years

literally

to be able

to take the turn

and drive down

that road

past that place

and even more

to write about it

I had gone there

to cover a story

in February of 2008

a story about an infant

who had just been found

dead

in a drainage ditch

at an apartment complex

days later

I quit my job

there had been another story

just prior

sitting in a courtroom

listening to a report

of neglect and horrifying abuse

of a small child

I cried through the whole thing

cried all the way back to work

cried in the work restroom

cried all the way home

cried in the shower

cried on the pillow

then they sent me to cover

a story

about an infant

left in a ditch

and even though

I can drive by

now

it don’t mean

I don’t still

cry

TL

Hangers

on a Sunday

as the leaves fell

off the branches

I turned to my closet

and did what the Kondo woman

preaches in her book

I took every single item of clothing I own

OUT

and held up each piece

and asked myself

what she tells you to ask yourself

“does this spark joy”

turns out very little did

seven heaping helping bags later

I realize this

yes, I’ve weeded out my clothes before

but not like this

there were decades in there

things I would never wear again

things I forgot I had

things with tags

I really thought I might get stuck

in there

as the mountain grew higher and higher

I just kept my head down

and kept going

and going

and going

piece by piece

as the hangers piled up

and the bags were tied

clothing condensed

I thought to myself

well, maybe some of it

will spark joy

for somebody else

out there

that or make a good rag

to clean the car

after the clearing of clothes

Kondo tells her readers

to tackle all the books

then all the papers

then all the miscellaneous

and lastly, the sentimental

you’re supposed to hold up each item

and ask yourself, again

“does this spark joy”

yeah, I’m gonna skip the books

and magazines

and go straight to papers

TL

Mr. White

the morning

after

your funeral

I see …

that you have died

70’s too young, Bill

ain’t it

you had a cowboy way about you

a loner on the range

ready to ride out

at first light

in the dew and mist

ever searching for something

intangible to capture

you taught me how

to take a decent shot

even got an A

in your photojournalism class

and since it’s a small world

I’d end up sitting next to you

in the newsroom

you were a better photographer than a writer

great photos need no words

you carried a camera around

like some men carry guns

prepared

you were hard to read

smiling with that gap in your teeth

and raising a wired brow

your eyes seemed to hold secrets

maybe painful ones

we never talked like that

but you did love to talk about surface things

your photos delved deeper

for a close reader

TL

Room to Grow

take a walk

with me

down the path

where carpets of green

unroll

we’ll step on the wrinkles

and smooth out the line

on this floor of green

we’ll add some color

that will bloom and blush

and come back next year

shaded there

under tall umbrellas

a steady stream

transforms the stone

and over time

hard edges soften

on bare feet

we’ll sit and listen

to the water run

and long enough

we’ll watch the blue ceiling

turn pastel

and mix and move

into one

shade of shadow

a string of lights flung

they blink

like the crickets

and the frogs

and the fireflies

like the years gone by

all the days and nights

sleeping and waking up

the sun on one side

and the moon on the other

TL

Abide

when your eyes

swell shut

and the tears travel

inward

a river forms

and flows to the heart

to the deepest recesses

where love resides

and when you love somebody

more than yourself

they live there

in that place

wherever you go

wherever you are

they are

even if you can’t see them

or speak to them

or touch them

they remain

as they are

untouched by time

in that sacred

place

TL

Badge of Honor

when they

get home

from work

they close the door

and take their boots off

and put their uniform away

shower and change

and unwind

most days they don’t

take their work home

it’s routine

but there are days

certain days

they do

and they stand in the shower

longer

and close their eyes

and they see it all

and they feel it all

and there’s salt in the water

that falls

TL

Fall Days

been

chopping the tops

off carrots

and putting them in water

and watching them grow

tiny trees on orange islands

and if you were alive

you’d be smiling

at that

I remember

the seedlings there

on your kitchen counter

wrapped in clear plastic

and the books you gave me about plants

and how we used to talk about that

I have a small greenhouse now

you’d like

with plenty of plants

of varied variety

they like to be perfumed with peppermint

it wakes them up

and since it hasn’t rained lately

I’ll be using the hose

for watering

TL

Connection

the story

of

Jeff Bauman

will be played out

tomorrow

on the big screen

marking his healing process

and giving the rest of us

a glimpse

of what it takes

to go on

and while this movie

is important

for so many, many reasons

it’s timely, too

in a world

that is experiencing

such loss

it is the struggle in the story

the internal struggle

that shows us

something about ourselves

a truth that reaches out

across the line

TL

Color on the Page

at first

the sun

was a dot

then a smudge

the smudge became swirly

eventually circular

one day

there were rays

around the circle

like a fence

and over time

the fence would fall

d

o

w

n

toward the trees

and gardens would grow

flowers would bloom

the grass would point up

to the sky

a bird would fly by

there would be puddles

and rivers

and streams

the ocean

there would be hills

and mountains

and meadows

a cliff

there would be winter

and spring

and summer

and fall

there would be planes

and trains

and buses

and cars

and boats

there would be picnics

and kites

and bikes

and dogs

and cats

there would be parks

and parades

and parties

a carnival

there would be biking

and hiking

and walking

and jogging

and strolling

there would be games

on fields

and courses

and trails

the water

there would be chairs

and tables

and tents

the back end of a truck

there would be pictures

taken

and took

and tossed

and put in frames

there would be fountains

and funerals

and weddings

and playdates

and reunions

there would be walks

with a dog

with a child

with another

without the other

there would be sitting

on a bench

in a wheelchair

by the window

there would be days

without the sun

like all the yellow got used up

and mixed

and dried out

and there’d just be a dot

a smudge

TL

Sitting Still

a residual

gust of wind

blew out all the lights

and made mute

the box

The Weather Channel

went black

like the World Wide Web

the refrigerator stood still

and the oven lost heat

candles were burning

but it was still light outside

so, I opened the door

and pulled up a chair

and watched the wind

bend the trees

and move the rain

ripping the leaves

and I don’t know

how long I sat there

but at some point

the lights turned on

the refrigerator hummed

the remote worked

the mouse clicked

and there was noise

so, I put the chair back

in place

and shut the door

and turned the oven

back on

and made a cup of coffee

that I was grateful for

TL

Smoke

when you

walk out the door

and you don’t come back

no more

‘cause you dropped your keys

at the gate

will you remember

the band

and how it played

will you take your ticket

and find your seat

in the middle row

and lose yourself

at the exit

will you sit at the table

through the courses

and clearing

and wait for the check

will you drive to the beach

‘cause the beach is not far

from where you are

will you pick up a book

where you left off

and think about it

later on

at the light

will you take a walk

for no reason

or result

other than to get

where you’re going

will you tire

along the way

and lie down

for a bit

and rest your eyes

on a cloud

a moving cloud

that was here, now there

there, now here

will you drift on with it

like smoke

on a reservation

then away

TL

How It Was

seven years

gone by

on the eve of the eighth

pre-K

kindergarten

first grade

second

third

fourth

fifth

sixth

a parent

in the pick-up line

you sit there

the same

but you’re not the same

things have changed

all around you

but you sit there

the same

waiting in line

and you used to pick-up

a little kid

but that little kid is gone

this girl gets in

and she’s wearing contacts

and styling her own hair

without a bow in sight

painting her nails

and toes

and needing privacy

to change her clothes

and we drive down the road

and she doesn’t like my Seger CD

so, we switch to the radio

and listen to a commercial

waiting for it to turn into a song

and she likes this song

it’s a new song

“Every Little Thing”

and I like it, too

it has a story

and like most country songs

it’s about love

some sad song

about love

and how it was

TL

Song written by Civilla D. Martin, 1905 

“Why should I feel discouraged,

Why should the shadows come,

Why should my heart be lonely

And long for Heav’n and home,

When Jesus is my portion?

My constant friend is He:

His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches me;

His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches me.

‘Let not your heart be troubled,’

His tender word I hear,

And resting on His goodness,

I lose my doubts and fears;

Tho’ by the path He leadeth

But one step I may see:

His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches me;

His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches me.

Whenever I am tempted,

Whenever clouds arise,

When songs give place to sighing,

When hope within me dies,

I draw the closer to Him,

From care He sets me free;

His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches me;

His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know

He watches me.”

(For Dr. Don Roberts, Aug. 21, 1950 – Sept. 4, 2017)

Color-blind

is there

a verse

in diverse

and how would it

go

what would it

say

on the surface of things

is that all you see

what appears to be

an enemy

and they all look the same

they look like those people

over there

who want to kill us all

those people testing missiles

and marching with mantras

and scaring the L out of us

it’s bad enough they’re over here

living and working and going to school

and you can’t understand what they’re saying

so, it must be bad

they must be bad

they’re in the grocery store

the restaurants

in the park

taking over golf

walking down the street

driving down the road

used to be all you saw

was black and white

that’s all you ever saw

was black and white

and if that’s all you ever saw

then that’s how you see

the w o r l d

in black

and white

TL