For Pete’s Sake. First I read this and then listened to you read it. Your words are so magical, moving, original. I am awed by the power of birds, and I, too, am moved to tears. You make me want to become a poet.
2nd attempt...I've been dealing w/ a Lymes infection and a home move...I've been absent from this forum...and I value it, thank you for the offering to communicate w/ you...
I saw Smoke Signals again recently, a very clear window into Rez life...
then I saw a story about the Museum of Natural History in NYC...it has childrens toys from the massacre at Wooden Knee...what a relic...
In my community there is a Hotchkiss cannon on display...several of those guns were used against the citizens at Wooden Knee...indiscriminately...one liberation movement implies all liberation movements...Jeffrey
If the air compressor still needs to be fixed, give me a call. I’ll trade my labor for you reading poetry while I work.
When my wife and I were building a house lo so many years ago, I had a friend who wanted to help, but disaster always followed his efforts, so I asked him to read Steinbeck to me and he started with The Pastures of Heaven, and I still remember how Maria and Rosa decided to increase their tortilla business, but I don’t remember what I was doing as he read.
I want to apologize for part of my earlier comment, when I said "Let go your father's hand and sleep" - it was presumptuous of me. In reality I was speaking to myself and my own childhood terrors and insomnia, which are of a completely different origin than yours. But - last night I slept. I can't remember the last time I did that. Your words were healing, somehow. I hope that comfort stays with me. Thank you. (If I remember correctly, you had wanted at one time to be a pediatric doctor? Maybe that's part of what you've become!)
Beautiful words Sherman. Takes me back to a time I would forget if I could, but will always remember. Bird song can repair one’s soul. That first song just before light has always lifted me up.
Oh, my heart. Those birds. I want to feel them flutter so much, but I think they’ve perished in my chest along with my heart.
devastating and beautiful. thank you for sharing
Thank you, Maegan.
For Pete’s Sake. First I read this and then listened to you read it. Your words are so magical, moving, original. I am awed by the power of birds, and I, too, am moved to tears. You make me want to become a poet.
Thank you, Sheila.
2nd attempt...I've been dealing w/ a Lymes infection and a home move...I've been absent from this forum...and I value it, thank you for the offering to communicate w/ you...
I saw Smoke Signals again recently, a very clear window into Rez life...
then I saw a story about the Museum of Natural History in NYC...it has childrens toys from the massacre at Wooden Knee...what a relic...
In my community there is a Hotchkiss cannon on display...several of those guns were used against the citizens at Wooden Knee...indiscriminately...one liberation movement implies all liberation movements...Jeffrey
Oh, how so beautiful!!
Sherman - Your words are beautiful. I go back to your work often. Thank you.
Thank you, Briana.
If the air compressor still needs to be fixed, give me a call. I’ll trade my labor for you reading poetry while I work.
When my wife and I were building a house lo so many years ago, I had a friend who wanted to help, but disaster always followed his efforts, so I asked him to read Steinbeck to me and he started with The Pastures of Heaven, and I still remember how Maria and Rosa decided to increase their tortilla business, but I don’t remember what I was doing as he read.
Hahahahaha. My office toilet won't stop running water. I stared hard at it for several minutes and then called the plumber.
No greater love has any man than the guy who fixes toilets and the guy in Idaho who delivers beverages all winter on ice and snow covered roads.
Amen!
I love the pesky birds.
I want to apologize for part of my earlier comment, when I said "Let go your father's hand and sleep" - it was presumptuous of me. In reality I was speaking to myself and my own childhood terrors and insomnia, which are of a completely different origin than yours. But - last night I slept. I can't remember the last time I did that. Your words were healing, somehow. I hope that comfort stays with me. Thank you. (If I remember correctly, you had wanted at one time to be a pediatric doctor? Maybe that's part of what you've become!)
Oh, I didn't take it as anything other than empathy.
What an amazing poem.
Perfect in every way.
I not only wept,
I sobbed.
Thank you.
No one writes like you. Beautiful.
Thank you, Dorothy.
Beautiful and touching poem, I could hear the stutter of the engine. Just brilliant!
Thank you, Diana.
Beautiful words Sherman. Takes me back to a time I would forget if I could, but will always remember. Bird song can repair one’s soul. That first song just before light has always lifted me up.
Thank you, Steve.
The finality of loss. I remember it well from my grandmother's bedside. We never put ourselves back together again, do we?
No, we don't.
Thank you for sharing this: it touched my soul.
Thank you, Linda.
I feel this. Intimately.
Thank you.