Luke said, “Put it out there into the world and see what happens…”

I wrote the book and got it published and said from the beginning that sales didn’t matter. I lied about that one. Sales matter. Validation matters. However, Luke was correct.

My half-sister Joyce was the first to contact me and said she loved the book. We hadn’t spoken in years, and I was pleased to reconnect. She died a few weeks later. The positive if I can find one is we said goodbye on a positive note, which was not always the case.

Then, about a month ago, I got contacted by my Aunt Joan 92, and her daughter Maria, my 1st cousin; both of whom I had never met or knew existed, and now we talk several times a week.

The aftermath is family. Family I have been searching for all my life. Sometimes, it’s hard for me not to get emotional…

I am blessed.

The politicians are in the spotlight.

Sucking air at suck and blow.

Fingers pointing, hands are waving.

Heads are shaking, “I don’t know. “

There’s a game we all are playing.

That got so broke so long ago.

In the business side of the broken.

Mirrors smiles suck and blow.

The fog was drifting up my alley.

Just ahead of mornings, sun.

The weekend is in full swing.

And the night is on the run.

All is quiet, parties over.

We stay in. We order food.

There’s no need for explanation.

Over talking would be rude.

The world has changed in ways of plenty.

We hear it grinding on its gear.

There’s a shifting in the fog now.

There is hope for crystal clear.

The rain is bouncing off the asphalt.

Pain is seared upon the face.

No blame pointing out fault.

Just some lives at the human race.

No need to be to be getting upset.

There’s no need to be packing heat.

The old ones are all standing.

So the young can have a seat.

I was thinking about the future.

Don’t know how long that will last.

By then, they will find the cure.

All this change is set so fast.

Saw the Merchant smile sweetly, and Frank was just confused. She stirred his coffee neatly. All he wanted was abused.

The driver took the detour. Up the wrong ramp forty-five. I yelled and grabbed the wheel. No one’s happy, but we’re alive.

The Madman yelled and bantered at the strangers on the train. Another day in paradise, and here we go again.

Changing gears.

I’m on the way home.

The sweet spot.

In the comfort zone.

Staying put.

No more to roam.

I’m with her.

She is not alone.

I’ve lost my hair.

Don’t need a comb.

Found my way.

Paying back the loan.

I was born into disaster.

He went to slow and she said faster…

She went quiet when I would ask her.

And lost the role in which he cast her.

In the mornings, they got quiet.

Had no money left to buy it.

When they drink, there was a riot.

I left alone. I couldn’t try it.

I was born into disaster.

They went to slow and then said faster.

She went quiet when I ask her.

She said. “Put the bull back out to pasture.”

They were born into a war zone.

Made her laugh, a joke about a hormone.

Never saw two people more alone.

Should have left them in the friend zone.

I was born into disaster.

They went to slow and then said faster.

She lost the role in which he cast her.

She went quiet when I would ask her.

There is color in the flowers.

And moisture in the rain.

The rocks are hard and heavy.

And the soil holds all pain.

I’ve been dancing in the meadows.

I don’t dare to stay too long.

And only under darkened skies.

Where the thunder plays my song.

No more confab with the foolish.

Or the prideful, boastful voice.

I take it to the world at large.

And pretend I have a choice.

Sometimes, I miss delusions.

In the busy city streets.

And the chaos and confusions.

But not the phones and texts and tweets.

We were snowed in like Alaska.

South of Dixie Mason line.

It felt like the world was ending…

So we doubled up on shine.

There’s no moral to this story.

Except for snow, it melts like rain.

And if you double up on moonshine.

You will probably go insane.

It’s been strange and dislocated, but then again, it’s always been.

Except for all those blessings; in times of faith unseen.

I’ve been praying here in silence. Some words I share with God.

You’ve been missed. Not really here. I suspect you’re on the nod.

A wind that whistles through the trees. Sometimes, I hear the howl.

I had tried to make it up to you and, in the end, threw in the towel.

Sometimes, I hear the laughter. Sometimes, I hear the storm…

Sometimes, I don’t talk about it… Sometimes, I hope you’re warm.