Jack Spratt

120620 00:43

Rage the most petty of passions is for me a literary device; a mining of past events seen differently from current perspectives fluid shaken not stirred steered & consumed.

I think now what drove my mother to heights of insane behavior was retrospectively my unblinking dispassionate analysis. What in former times I thought intuitive sensing her near the point of killing me defenseless. Tears or complaint the fatal trigger.

My father died a few years ago. Mother predeceased him by some fifteen years; long divorced after 27 years of marriage. I'd taken to inquisition his sense of truth about all things family tiny & immense in previous times when together. The parameters of my quest far ranging definitions deep expectation explicit. We'd become friends at last before his final day . . . when he called to say goodbye then died. He 92, I something like 67 I misremember the age and time irrelevant the calm sincerity of saying, “I'll miss you dad . . . “ Then silence--he'd disconnected. 

 

Then I wept as I weep now for the love remembered always sought never expressed but at the final moment realized now; only a friend calls to say goodbye before the final leave taking and no “see you later” possible.

Now even now I weeping realize that the greatest lover of all what we call God who is a friend too. Death in this moment instantly resurrected different remembering I have no right to be alive; so often mangled drown slandered and crushed.

Yet I live why?

We are mere clay recycled endlessly by the Potter who taking the cracked cup mended or shards may at times merely return us to clay or dust for water is required otherwise return the spinning wheel.

The cosmos?

Vincent's Starry Starry Night a window to infinity beyond the fire trees writhing over the village if only seen the eyes of Glory & the Eyes of God seeking seeing us.

To forgive is not to forget but to remember differently creating the world we wish to inhabit as incarnated by us . . . and now more so now and growing I am forgiven my anger and rage toward my mom & dad & our Mother/Father parents of everything.

. . . the Who is no treacly yes to everything we wish for knowing no for now or forever is better at times. How could I know this only now since having ridden the Dragon of My Rage reaching high and low the height width breadth infinite length knowing the origin of my fear and terror redeemed & for me & for us all God is no mere word upon the flesh of dead trees ink or dancing serifs upon either in actuality not a name but a presence and we being binary must say yes or no

Should I leave you now for real this moment silent eternally I will still sing in reply to the love notes of/from God through other hearts and souls conscious God & Heaven within us.

My truth & troth

amen.

Goodbye friend be well do no harm be kind to all others

beginning best blest with your self/soul/consciousness.

. . . in reply to a comment by irene carol sznobersznober # Sunday, June 17, 2012 5:55:34 AM