Headline Poem 3/31/14 -- Down the road

I read this headline today -- about a dying man and his daughter. The community came together to create a special memory for them. One line caught my eye, "Down the road." Of course having lost my own dad young, I understand that line. The little memories I have mean so much, and down the road, they make me smile, and love everyday. 

Down the road

Years from now, down the road, you'll remember the aisle

you walked holding his hand, the last gift he ever gave to you, solid, where layers upon layers of hope and fear collide, in this memory, for life. 

You know he'd give anything to stay, but he can't. That's not how it works. 

Like a pebble, small but mighty, you'll smile with sunshine in your eyes, happy to have lived with him, happy to be alive. 

Down the road, there will be times when you'll curse the stars, and be upset for what you are without. 

You'll know how longing feels, true. 

But, you'll also know how high you can climb, and that you have gifts, insights, and a friend on the other side. 

This loss will allow you to connect with others who know how it feels, famous authors, strangers, and characters who seem real. 

Life will lead you through adventures, license plates will pass from differents states and countries. 

People will share their memories with you, letting him live on through them. 

The hardest part may come when you have children of your own. 

You'll be sad for what you are without, and may fear what they could lose, like you, but it will teach you about strength and being nice. 

There may be some who will try to knock you down, who will see your vulnerability as weakness, and may even try to use it to get ahead. 

You'll see through them. 

You'll see what's real.

Vulnerability is strength. It means you are alive. It means you feel. 

Trust your gut, even when some people say you have a hole. Do not let them tell you that is weak. Holes are everywhere. 

If someone tries to use that against you, know that they are probably hurt. 

Write love letters, write for you, even if someone tells you not to. 

Climb mountains. Jump with frogs. Drink fine wine. Laugh at yourself. 

Visit with true friends. 

Listen to poems. Let them take you where they will. 

Let the ocean splash inside of you. 

And no matter what, give and receive love.
His absence will hurt, but it is also the greatest gift. 

Headline Poem 3/22/14 -- son of a nazi

Aribert Heim with his son Rüdiger in Germany (Photo credit The Atlantic)  

Today's headline is "Being the Son of a Nazi."  Few words are needed if you choose to read the article, and contemplate the crimes. 

son of a nazi

shoulders young but strong

hold the burden of heavy oven heat

and deadly toxic gas

unnecessary operations  

left tortured bones piled and distorted 

shattering images of a father

like derailed train tracks en route 

home from the 11 million war

delicate fingers could have been friends

but instead hate created enemies 

of brown freckled knees, purple skies, and blue eyed men

Headline Poem 1/25/14 -- My dream is to wake

(Photo credit Angelo Merendino)

Today's headline poem is based on the love story of Jennifer and Angelo. Jennifer, pictured above, passed away in December of 2011, at age 40, from breast cancer. Her husband captured the entire battle in photographs. His pictures take us on their journey of strength and integrity -- of dying, and and loving someone who is dying. Today on his Facebook page, "My Wife's Fight with Breast Cancer," he posted that he is selling copies of the picture above to raise funds to participate in an exhibit in Maine, where he will once again share the story of he and his beautiful wife.

My dream is to wake

My dream is to wake every morning,

rested from a night of sweet slumber

Wrapped in crisp, breathable sheets

To these eyes of brown 

And the smile that melts all hearts

It is a dream because although I wake to the beauty,
it is only in pictures that I see the most amazing woman,
and touch the softest of skin

She is shared with the world now
Cancer took her
like she has taken us

We are still allowed to dream, laugh, spin, be free

I want to always remember the love of life through death
the fragility of it
the complete powerless vulnerability that is breath
the smell of seasons and salt, and fresh cut grass
my dream is to wake, taking all of this in
because she cannot

Now she smiles elsewhere with her healthy body 

and soulful love, always near, but never here

knowing his dream is to wake, 
beside her, 
she follows him where he goes... he knows