well, it's after midnight so that means i am 47 years old...one year ago my birthday was the first occasion in 21 years that Bekah missed. based on what i wrote one year ago today, i have made extensive progress on my journey of grief...

from last year:

Morning Poem, Mourning Poem
- Angry -

almost light rouses me/I am crazed indeed/I want my daughter here with me/I want her motherfuckers bring her to me/will you adopt vengeance pray justice for relief?/I want my daughter down the street/laughing with her friends - she's supposed to be/bastards, bastards, how dastardly/can a single fate be can many fates be?/and why do they all have to visit me!/what is the fucking matter with me?/am I grown up yet, no, do I have to be?/do I have to be when all I ever cared about was taken from me/turned away from me turned back to me/grew up by me only to be/MURDERED stripping each inch of reality/of all sense, there is no sense left to me/yes this may be insanity/but fuck you world you forced it on me/when you murdered my baby away from me

---
When i sit down to make a painting generally speaking there is no plan. i experiment with color combinations. sometimes a picture results that reminds me of a poem, or that to my mind fits with a poem i wrote [or even a quote i collected]...this picture struck me as fitting with my angry rhyme.



for my birthday this year i told my son that i will allow him to wish me happy birthday...last year i wanted nothing to do with it. even though i will go ahead and attempt the happy face, it's not the same. on her last birthday, july 6, 2001, bekah was 21 years old. a friend captured her doing what she spent a significant percentage of her waking time doing until her untimely death:


- posted by barbara @ 8/26/2002 01:02:00 AM