Saturday, March 08, 2003
There would be copious Blue,
Landscapes, seascapes, skies,
Mother, wondering in wind, Blue,
Sea birds or sea lions in Blue,
Water Blue, sky Blue, creature Blue,
A black eye
Surveying the copious blue.
Dark, light, navy, baby, powder,
Phthalo by the gallon…
Blue, now I recognize, Blue
Will always be copious, copious and comprehensive.
Every other color, every non color,
Comes and goes and certainly always will
As well, though not so copiously as Blue.
Every other color or non color
Is a phase or a fancy or an
Effort to be true…but Blue
That will always be, always – copious.
Oh I think there is NO hope for that – whatever it is – poem? ‘Fraid not, dearest.
Heard from Andy – read my letter to him so I’m not required to reiterate? When I told your dad I took “Bekah – sorry. Denise,” to my lawyer’s for a character judgment, I think I told the truth. Both of you.
Darling although my mind has discarded so much of the memory from 07-19-01 to the present, your better judge of character preceded your passing and is not forgotten.
I hope it is YOU, your stamp of approval, that has precipitated this unanticipated peace regarding settlement of the civil suit. I will reiterate what I wrote to Andy – I thought I’d feel like a whore, or a dupe, or a greedy bitch who must not have loved you as much as I know so well that I did, do, and will forever…but I don’t. I think this is the right thing to do for the LIVING. And that NO amount judgment award whatever could do anything at all to assuage the pain of your murder or the travesty of the criminal case.
The only logical outcome of such thinking is that the proper thing to do is to get the most amount of money possible – your father and I are both advised that settling is the way to accomplish that.
I love you Bekah. Miss you Bekah. Here I am in yet another til now unknown sector of hell. Here, they let Hope in. Here, the energy is clearer, more positive. Here, I miss you acutely, feel you near more rarely, and martial all the courage, self-love, and healthy selfishness I will need for the remainder of this journey through the desert of despair.
I still can’t see the exit Bekah. But I more firmly and consistently believe I will attain it. Live before I die. Pursue happiness with a reasonable expectation of achieving it, via love, work, activism, advocacy, and so on.
As I get nearer that exit point I think beyond it is where I direct my own fate, have all my priorities straight, earn my living doing something that matters to me and/or that I love to do [i.e., writing. Well I doubt I’ll ever make a living shooting pool or playing poker…so you know it should be writing - :)].
I know I want to try romantic love again. Once back in life, this pursuit may still spell happiness in my life, IF I am smart enough to keep all the lessons I’ve ever learned and have self-esteem sufficient to insist on a man who:
© Is my intellectual equal or more
© Has a great sense of humor
© Loves my writing and would not love me if I wasn’t the poet I am
© Treats me right
Etc. etc. etc.
I’m not sure about the first item. Actually I’ll rephrase it: Is intelligent –
Not the more or the less or what-fucking-ever matters so much. But I would love to find a man who is capable of understanding even the more complex aspects of me. Or at least one willing to really listen when I try to explain.
In my life I know that I have been misunderstood. Sometimes the more I tried to make myself clear the less able the man would be. At other times I think I was perfectly clear, but he didn’t care enough to listen.
When I try dating again I hope I’ll be smart enough to ditch the situation before it becomes hurtful. I think I had actually achieved that with [some bullshitter i was seeing for a while] before you died. With him I believed bullshit, but I protected my heart and demanded right TREATMENT and not just the words. So I was halfway there.
That may be as far as I ever get. If I remember the truth – actions speak louder than words – bullshit cannot lead me into a broken heart. So I won’t worry the words, I’ll worry the deeds.
Don’t I sound healthy? I love you Bekah; I thank you for your loving guidance, your serenity injections, “My Girl” on the radio TWICE in one day!
Thank you for being my beautiful loving daughter – always. 8th grade grad, with her braces...:)
Amen. XXX 000
Who am i, what am i
A picture's worth
I stand on the sand, and I'm rocking grief to sleep in my arms.
Comments by: YACCS