The Poisoned Ink Well

Saturday, April 13, 2013


I wake up in the middle of the night
With the dumb foggy room realization
That someone suffered
The only dull ache comfort
Other than pillow and blanket
Is that
Thank god it wasn’t me
Ruthless prayer
Like a warm wind on a humid day
I can’t cry out or seek forgiveness for what
I didn’t do
Survivor guilt
Apparently my shoot opened
I landed here

When I finally wake at 6 am
and make coffee

I am surrounded by the lush green pine
Hard bark stretch to the sky
soft pink champagne and orange juice trees
Litter my roadway with fluff
Skies thick with clouds hang heavy
Interspersed with bright patches of sunlight
Steam rises from leaves and frogs
and snakes sunning on sharp jagged gray slate rocks on water’s edge

Every morning my first thoughts are the night before
Wakeful moments never to be dreams
startled to eyes opening
Twilight nightmares
Other people's pain
Problems with no solutions
No logic to suffering or dying
Or how to prevent what has already occurred
Tears can’t soothe wounds on their corpses
My half wakeful mind doesn’t know this
I can’t stop last minutes or make it any better
I spend a lifetime of nights
Seeking redemption for something
That I didn’t do
Grateful for every sunrise
I smile at every blade of grass wet with dew
Blackberry bushes ripening twenty feet from my door
On soft June morning
Tiny rabbits run ahead on deer trails
I bury my conscience day in sight, sound, smell and taste
Children playing in the woods
Water splashing on creek bed
We do things like drink strawberry margarita
Boil shrimp in lime and talk about the weather.

Hedonism is the order of every day
Shallow comforts skin thick
no salty tears
to rub in wounds as long as the sun is shinning

I am happy to be alive and have shelter
And eyesight and hearing and legs
Very lucky and knowing it.
Not understanding why
I was blessed.