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Archive for the ‘Parenting, children, family’ Category

when your skillet’s gone dry


Violation

no computation

of the ways…

that go before

those sacred vows

that have been broken

between you and me

so discreetly

in the silent spaces

of our words and time

where all else was lost,

and you were

meant to be mine!

 

I wished you could be

and that you made it right

again,

after the soft breezes

of caresses and breasts

that found their honey

suckle sweets…

flowing milk rivers of plenty

 

I came across

this flesh

the other day,

and it had your

name written

all over it.

wrestled from the hands

of times secret

keeper

in the back of my mind,

deep in the bowels of this earthen landscape

grasping for the sake

of a new experience

to be had

in the soul of a life

born free,

free of crime and grime

without days filled

with dread, shit, and shame

around what could just have been

a tender touch

from a loved one.

 

Eric Grace

7-28-11 ©

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Having come and gone to now

The whirlwinds have settled

the names have changed

the years have come

and become,

I am no longer to blame.

Death and grief,

rise and falls,

family losses

and falling aparts.

Divorces and marriages,

bankruptcies and courts,

Cults and children born

out of and into my heart

I am no longer remote.

Grace carries me

through thick and thin

while I am finding

my spirit and soul

coming together

as this fleshy within.

Out of the ashes

of a life torn apart

Springs form

a unique orchid blend blossom

giving fragrance

offered to the my loving Sun.

And everyone is welcome

who wishes for a sweet smell

and a beautiful vision

to ponder

that brings them back to square one.

Now, I am Singing a little song

like the mellow creek

that whispered its way along

beside the willow tree

down that street

that I once knew as home.

By Eric Grace on 4-16-2011 ©

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leading

and living

these broken lives,

half-truths

and saviors

fade into the

background…

while the apparent

need to find perfection

subsides in the wake

of discovering

how we need

one another,

that in discovering

each other

we find the wholeness

of our humanity

and the rebirth

of our kindness

to the world

in all its wretched  humility

 

in this still place

I breathe

quietly

within me

I hear

the creek

flowing outside

and the harmony

of nature

and That which it abides

 

You and I

are a new story

in an old fabric

or tapestry

that grows denser

and more liquid

with time and age

but still remains

the same cloth

that our parents

and theirs’ used

to wipe their face upon

when the feast

of their lives

was finished.

 

Come to me

so that we can

make bread

for this day

and celebrate

the feast

that is ours

for the tasting.

3-23-11

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fresh tears

are welcomed by me

as they quench

my thirsty heart


it sheds

layers of skin

and I breathe

more freely

in this world.

My head acts

as a metal box

at times,

craving to be released

from its confines

and ushered into

the wisdom

of my body.

And somedays

its steely walls

echo

words and voices

that make my ears

ring.

Feathers

sometimes touch

my brow

reminding me

that the angels,

my brethren,

are not that far

off from here.

And that they

await my requests

as friends, helpers,

and guides.

God

seems to await me

every time

I pick-up the conversation

after having left it

due to some apparent

memory loss

of Its existence,

to which It

lovingly and warmly

responds

and I am grateful.

Simple defines

my moments,

with some fear

of moneys’ chains

around my ankles.

Solitude is my friend now.

And I happily hold

my son

tenderly

in and with my heart.

Being in love

comes and goes

just like the Spring

but it always is a season

with its rightful place

in each year

in my life,

and each day.

What I can give you now

is my life,

in its barren

simplicity

and the grace

that quickly

walks through it

as myself.

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by Eric Grace

What is it to be a man?

Is it the lean and firm

muscles he develops

from true work?

Is it the strength

he uses to carry

the burdens of others

on his back?

Is a man he who

listens deeply

to the heart of another,

especially his partner,

giving solace and care

in abundance?

Is a man

he who gives

his attention generously

until its time

to say no,

where the no

is given as a gift

rather than as a closed door.

Is a man

he who

lives In the Earth

recognizing

Her wishes

and protecting them wildly

fondly cherishing

each creature

as if it were

his own child?

Is what makes a man

the way he calls out to God

yearning to know IT

in all Her Glory?

Does a real man

know what the

word surrender

means

in his bones?

And how to act

with courage

and swiftness when prompted to

from his guts?

Does a man that is true

know how to howl

at the moon,

with his pain, joy, and passion

embracing each as equals?

Would a real man

kiss his beloved’s

tender places

with the presence

of the gods

and the sweetness

of a honeysuckle?

Can a real man grok

the challenges

that his children face

ahead of them

and not get cynical

or despairing,

and then humbly

take steps

each day

to make it easier

for them to tread

their soul’s purpose in grace?

I wonder

if you will have the chance

to see

or become

a real man

in your lifetime.

Or have you already?

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In the Sun, with my son

Paradise fades away

on this sun scorched day

after the pools of fun

and the jumps of play

I sink into a thickened clay

my son is so restless

for more fun

but I cannot play

My time has ended

this bunny has run out

and his energizer keeps on going

with no fear to clout

his desire and vitality

from coming about

I wonder how Santa

keeps his elves

which way this turns

only time will tell

does it go down that road

to parent hell?

Or can I take the

gentler path

that gives him

respect

and gets him off my back.


Eric Grace

June 13th 2010

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I was graced by a nap with my son and then some time while he slept after I awoke, and in the silence of that time I found this poem writing itself:

Taking Time

fastening slowness

like a belt

to my chest

of forgiving arms pace

giving myself graceful wingtips

with honey dewdrops

caressing

my flowering feet

with their sweet moisture

of time off

in love.

I go under the veil

into the moist

and hollow darkness

coming down to my knees

in goodness

to find my character

taking steps and shapes

yet again

as a form

I can’t do without

The match with time

and space

and peoples wishes

colliding

stops,

in this moment.

for the stillness

that wishes me to

have all I need

be fulfilled

beckons me to

rightness again.

She is good to me.

Eric Grace

June 6th 2010

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