Prayer for the Death of a Grandfather
He came from the dysfunctional side of the human family.
So…he was dysfunctional.
She came from a small tribe. So it was not about the money.
She was fed up…with him…being fed up…about the war.
Medication and quitting helped him survive…
the death of fall…and the rumors of another ice age.
Children, the beast of pray and a 1,000 lovers helped her…go on forgetting…
medication and quitting…helped him at all…replace her laughter.
Like any coward…he wanted to blame everyone
but who was responsible…for his inevitable train wreck.
So she offered to translate his poetry…so it would rhyme for the world.
Here is a test. You can begin…with this apology to your daughter by the unsaveable:
Don’t take the unforgivable so personal.
Forgive him as easily or as hard as you would anyone who hungers
for life when they felt they were dieing in the beauty of childhood
as the smallest…of the ugliest and unlovable.
Because.
Despite all his cruelty…between his circumcision and death.
Despite all his blood letting…between the diseases of the mind and the cures of his soul.
But most of all…because your mother believed his story…I want her even more now…to believe what he knows.
For me it will never be an easy prayer to undue pain in the here and now by saying…good-by forever.
________________________
For Sophie
Without her consent
he swore to tell her everything,
the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
Therefore he grew as boring and as dangerous
…as the Geneva Convention.
After all he never meant to imply…he would be easy…to love.
_____________________________
On the pages of some Holy Book…from long ago is the following inscription:
Stolen especially for Maid Marion
who never understood Robin
who never understood himself
..how the hungry…can steal.
_____________________________
A Street Called Berlin
I remember a knock once at the door of an old lover…who I lost.
It was a dark time I want to forget…
carrying a child through the streets of Sodom
only to arrive late trying to break into the room
she had for anyone…but an infant boy.
In those days like today it was a typical Inn.
The owner was well protected…by guards.
So I tried even the magic of begging…for love
which leads me to the question…why
do you think by saying my name was Joseph
would it have given my family…a place to rest?
Do lies work better than prayer…
like years later when it was all in a typical days work
to trade stolen goods in Gomorrah…for medicine…for another child.
___________________
Death of an Elder
Some elders have a right to know.
Some are not that profound.
And for some…even teaching
obscenities and profanities to innocence
is not one of their charms.
So by the time he returned
to the real world…he began
to rewrite this story to himself:
Once upon a time
he could have been happy
with almonds and flowers…and her.
But he expected too much
because he wanted too little.
So as the funeral party moved on
a new lover laughed and danced
at the music of these lines:
from flesh to flesh
from ashes to ashes
now they will never find you…hiding here.
