The Shock Who would have thought it possible? Not I, your mother. I stand in shock at the words Tumbling from the raw rude mouth I've always loved. Th

The Shock

Who would have thought it possible?

Not I, your mother.

I stand in shock at the words

Tumbling from the raw rude mouth

I’ve always loved.

The words are sad,

Tears anointing each as holy.

My baby, my love,

The one I cannot understand,

Have never understood,

Your creativity blazes above mine

And cruises unknown streets

In a town I don’t know the name of.

You are lost there,

And run as I try,

I can barely hear your voice,

Let alone reach you.

I seek, I shout, I whisper;

I call in vain.

I wander the youthful dreams of my own

In search of you, my baby, my love.

Where have you gone?

Did you step back, back, backwards

Until without realizing,

You fell off a cliff

Into an ugly pit?

We who love you stand at the rim

And call to you.

We sing you a lullaby.

We see you in body,

But where has the real baby, my love, gone?

Has she withdrawn even in the pit?

Come back to us, my baby, my love.

What makes you so scared?

What makes you run from life?

What rages within you and why?

We who love you will always be here

To pick you up and carry you, if needed,

And will never leave you.

You must meet us, part way.

You must come from the dark place.

Do you not trust us?

How can love not be trusted?

Tell us, tell us, tell us

What you want and need and crave!

In Torment

I thought I could endure anything

Since living with the syndrome.

Yet some evil tosses

Raw red human obstacles

In our family pathways

So we must run a crooked course

To find our own beloved.

I see you in the doorway

Your amber eyes

Stinging me in the silence,

Try to shove me from your presence.

You cannot rid me from your life.

I will patiently fight for you

In your presence and out.

I will endure the gnawing stomach,

The worried restlessness,

The ugly dreams tossing my body,

And my constant search

To make sense of your wounds.


What do you want of life?

Are you afraid?

Or pissed off and filled with fury?

Do you want me around, my attention?

Or do you hunger for my absence?

Do you love me or hate me?

Maybe both.

I must remain silent,

And yet to be sane, I need to talk.

Where should I go?

I want to stay home, imprisoned with your raw spirit.

Going out is an unbelief,

Only for those who make sense of their world,

Only for those who are happy

And only those with trivial complaints

Can visit the outer world.

Coming Along

As I drive along, reading bumper stickers,

Within my soul the magnificence

Of whom you will become sparkles.

Nothing is impossible!

All things are possible

For you, my baby, my love!

My mind, like a giant hand,

Yanks into the blue and white sky,

Soaring to find you.

I KNOW you are here.

You are stretching the sky, becoming YOU.

I want to hint of what is to come.

Instead, I gaze contentedly at your beautiful profile,

Overlooking the chasm between now and then.

I pat your leg in assurance,

Declaring you shall be YOU,

In spite of all obstinate odds.

Fly away, my baby, my love.

When the time is right, you will know.

And the world will become a kindergarten

For you to explore with delight.

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