A.G.E's Joint

  Only memories remain Whispering wind moving small chimes Small flames peek through mesquite Arguments fade Evening wanes I thought I was mistaken I thought I heard your words Backflipping through the air Landing flat on the mat Morning will bring Balloons rising over Golden Aspens Leaving us behind. 

Funny how a day changes. The clutter had gotten to me again and I began to gather stuff for charity and the trash. The usual old clothes and kitchen stuff that sounded like such a good idea at the time. I came across it...again. Like I do every year. It isn’t pretty, a store bought relic from a relationship that wasn’t even mine. I pick it up to put it in the collection box. But it doesn’t happen. It never happens. Instead, the annual Lenten litany gets performed. I put on an old song and place the box on the table. We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when Pledge and a soft cloth peel down the layers of dust, bringing out filigree in the brackets. Faded memories tarnished by time, worn by care. Lemon scent burns in my nostrils as my hand glide along the prominent grain of the wood. Holding it in my hand, I anticipate the pain, so cleansing to my soul. The ashes from so long ago forming the cross against my heart. But I'm sure we'll me...

Young one Full of Promise Of life. Where will you go? Will you make us proud? Will you find love? These are the prayers We have for thee. I spent this afternoon at my Church, Holy Innocents Episcopal, Atlanta .  The occasion was a special requiem mass for children who had died from violence in the past year n the state of Georgia. Now, if you look at the normal church calendar, the feast day for the Holy Innocents is December 26. An afterthought in the revelry over the birth of the Christ Child. And so easy to forget all those who Herod slew in the futile attempt to suppress his possible competition. But rules and dates are made to be broken, so the decision was made to hold the Requiem thirty days later. So, we may not forget. Over the last twenty four hours, 464 names were said. In the four years the service has been held, more than 2400 bells tolled. For some, it is the only remembrance of their short time.  In others, families still hold memorie...

The words said Crowd disbands To their cars. Sun breaking Through the tears Warming hearts Battle long Relief short Everyone leaves Empty house Time on her Hands, standing Rosemary thyme Potato dish on shelf. Memories In quiet Desperation Who will stop The rain, she Cries out loud Sitting in His large chair Life leaves her.. 

Here we are Alone. Meeting after so many years Why so long? I speak to my friends In this new-fangled online market, I have not set foot here in years It's a lonely, lovely place, I know. Children scattered To the four winds. Not knowing whether  they are alive. Now I come to see you A Sphinx. Not sure why. Maybe to bask in the silence Of the relatives I never knew, And the few I did.   Austen said To look upon verdure was the greatest refreshment. But the oaks and moss Only remind me  Of past time wasted, Time was supposed to explain. Ain't no use complainin' Time to move on.

A September day. So long ago Time stood still World changed before our eyes Violent rape of our souls And the blaming still goes on Who won? No one. Not even the ashes are left As the fire is in their pit now They want to give it back In the endless struggle for power, We all are burned.

The cobwebs moved like puppets on a string.   In the 50 years she lived here, Ellie couldn’t remember when the wind cut so.   Pulling the caftan tight, she stood and looked at the blizzard of falling oak and hickory leaves.   Stoking the small fire in the stove, she sat in the hard chair.   She never liked cushions.   They made you soft and that was something you couldn’t be out here.   Weakness was punished in the woods.   He taught her that.    Silver liquid twinkled in the jar in front of her, begging to be used.   It was a gift from a neighbor a long time ago, back when there were neighbors.   Mother’s warnings drifted into her consciousness.   Bright blue horses of Armageddon would come. They would travel over the hill and far away, destroying all in their path.   It didn’t matter anymore.   With a faraway look, she took a slug of the moonshine and waited for the warmth to take her.   She took t...