Bad Instructions

People like telling you what to do.

it's true.

they like to give excellent advice to you,

so excellent that they won't follow it themselves. 

and we like hearing advice!

well, to a point.

no one likes to be left on their own in a world that doesn't make sense

at least, not without some instructions.

so we drink them in.

we're so thirsty for them...

we're so thirsty that we don't even test these directions,

we don't take a moment to look where they're directing us,

we just head off in hopes that once we get where we go

we wont want to keep on going.

when i was told my mother had cancer

i was very young.

old enough where i knew it was bad,

but young enough where that was the best negative descriptive word i knew.

i can't remember the advice i was given,

but i remember being given a lot of it.

"let out your feelings, 

let us know what you want."

stuff like that.

these were bad instructions.

i didn't know what i wanted, 

and now i know that most people don't in the first place.

i wanted her to wake me up in the morning when i went to school

to come say good night to me when i went to bed,

and to make the best god damn sheppards pie in the world

every once in a while..

i was eight,

i didn't know you could want for someone to get better,

to beat cancer,

i didn't know you could want that. 

i wanted her there, and she was, cancer could suck it,

i didn't know it could be so violent.

it was just a word in the dictionary.

nothing in life really prepares a family for that,

and equally nothing really prepares a family for what happens next,

when she beats it.

it's as if Gandhi just beat Muhammad Ali in a boxing match,

everyone goes crazy in wild celebration afterwards,

and there are more noises and sounds than one can exclaim,

and it's wonderful

but it settles down

something can only hold the limelight of people's exciting lives for so long.

GANDHI JUST BEAT MOTHER FUCKING MUHAMMAD ALI.

there's no time appropriate for settling down,

there's no time appropriate for self conscious composure,

it's time for dancing,

time for singing,

time to forget everything you do in life 

everything that's meant to keep you or someone else happy,

alive.

it should be put on the back burner in favour of celebration.

because this is what everything you do in life is for,

this is what your savings is for, so SPEND IT.

this is why you were racking up those vacation days, so USE THEM.

but i was still pretty young.

and all i was told was "you should be happy"

happy?

this was a very bad instruction.

i should have been happy i got tucked in at night,

that when i forgot to make my lunch that one would get to me at school,

i should have been happy like having been given a new book.

and i was.

but happy doesn't cut it,

i should have been fucking ecstatic. 

ecstatic in that it was my mom tucking me in,

that those lunches always had the taste of extra care

i should have been ecstatic like being given the world's library 

and should never have put a book down.

but i was happy.

because someone told me to be.

...god damn directions...

when i was a bit older my father was told he had cancer,

then we were told.

"spend as much time with him as you can"

was something i heard more times than i care to remember.

this may have been pretty good advice

i'm not sure why i didn't listen to it, 

but i'm certain it was because his life was what was cancerous.

to me at least.

so i stayed away from that as much as i could

because i was old enough to realize cancer's not something you want. 

i didn't want it.

he didn't want it.

but hearing "spend as much time with him as you can"

from family and friends

is much different from hearing

"you only have this much time to spend with him"

from his doctor.

that rattled me. 

but it should have picked me up and shook me

like an ice cream hungry 8 year old and their piggy bank,

shaking loose every bone in my body 

and breaking the ties i had to anything else that would take up my time.

his time.

he faded.

physically.

but i had never been more proud of him 

as when he showed how bright and open he had become.

i couldn't spend enough time with him then.

he was more my father then,

weak, frail, sleepless and vulnerable,

because he was being strong,

he was being brave,

and he wasn't scared.

the last time i saw him he couldn't speak

he couldn't open his eyes

but they said he could hear.

i know he could hear me.

but i'll be damned if i remember

the exact words that were my last to him.

i didn't hug him.

i don't know why.

instead i grabbed his hand,

grabbed his hand like i was grabbing for my life.

i was grabbing for a large part of it afterall.

a part that was about to leave forever.

but then he grabbed mine.

and it wasn't a hand shake

even though we were both holding on so tight that that's what it turned into.

there were no words to go with this.

i couldn't speak either.

there was a pathway between rows of roses

right outside his door, that he liked to walk.

this only started near the end.

but it made him happy, even then.

the last piece of advice he gave me

he gave to everyone.

and while he couldn't speak,

during that last handshake i could hear his voice 

from time and time before,

saying "stop and smell the roses."

it seems easy enough to understand but until then it never stood out to me.

then i got it.

Stop.

and smell the roses.

and right then, the last time i ever saw him, 

the last time i ever held his hand

a few hours before he would take his last breath with his parents beside him

he did something no one else had done to me

and something no one has done since.

I had

finally

been given a good instruction.

Undeniable

If i could hear the colour of your hair,

i bet it would smolder...

if i could see the passion in your voice, 

i bet it would flicker and glow...

your whole being is an inferno,

intense, infectious, sweeping,

and undeniably present.

making use of what's given,

and making new beginnings at every turn.

uncontrollable, unquenchable,

this world is not enough

and you could swallow it whole,

igniting every inch,

smiling while you watch it burn.

you

are an inferno.

you set all things ablaze

with just a touch.

you

are an inferno.

searching for someone who won't fall to ash,

someone to burn with.

Remember Me by This

"Remember me by this"

is what you said

as you bequeathed what you bequothe to me

from within your hand upon to mine,

a locket you yourself had made

and just a day before,

with the very hands that grazed mine then;

the only ones to touch my core.

i was shook and shaken

full of fear

and also anger too

but you did what you had done

and one last time you disappeared. 

that locket in my hands,

the hands that yours had touched too soon before,

those hands then clenched so tight

the clasp your hands had made with so much care

was stuck sealed solid for four more years.

not a word did i speak to you

nor would i had i found you.

not a single sound then passed these lips upon this face,

this face of mine you used to kiss,

not a single sound was meant for you

or either of your ears.

not until that seal stuck solid gave way

and brought back your disappearing day

did i ever say a word,

a word which what was wished to whisper passed your thoughts

and echo off the walls that you had built inside your heart,

the walls s that you yourself had built

with those very hands,

the walls which never kept me out

but which had never let me in.

stuck solid seals give way in such a fashion 

that the clasp is then just more decay,

and upon mine eyes gazing at that locket

which you yourself had made

with the very hands you hold

holding someone else's to this day,

i did not see what i had seen each day before.

for those four years it was your golden face,

a face that stopped one's heart at but a glance

then made it quicken pace.

your golden face inside that locket,

with a smile only god could make,

with the very hands which he must hold,

which must have made the rest of you,

but this was not the case.

within that locket which you gave to me

with words telling, that this, the only way must be

how i remember you,

i did not find your golden face,

nor silver smile,

but instead a picture of myself

grinning like a child.

i do remember the occasion though i know it's not important,

you wished to be remembered- not in physical attraction

but in how you let me love you

and from your every silver smile

my school boy reaction.

the words i then did whisper

from my lips to yours,

words i doubt you noticed

as we are far from each our doors,

these words whispered something that i feared,

something that i feared so deeply

i had never said before

but yes i mean them now

and do i ever mean them truly

-

I am sorry. 

Stargazing

the other day as was laying on the floor

laying, looking at the stars

that we had stuck up on the ceiling

i awoke from a place that wasn't sleep

a place where things were real but only there

a place where we used to visit long.

i awoke as i was missing you

eyes closed enough to stop the world

but not enough to stop the stars

from leaving scars in my eyes.

i had closed my eyes

looking, as is natural,

at the backs of my own eyelids,

noticing how infinitely close they are,

as close as anything could be.

then i thought of you

and as you crossed my mind

there you did appear

on the backs of those same eyelids

just as close as tears.

there you were

and there you stood

alone save for yourself,

the two of you 

not even inches away

seen as one

The Speech

so, i was at a wedding the other day, and let me tell you- weddings get to me. they do, they just do and i don't know why. and what got to me the most was something during the speeches.

 they had waited to do the toasts and everything until after everyone had eaten and had a drink or two. there weren't too many people who got up to say something but there was one that just nailed it. when the groom's father was called up his speech started before he even touched the mic. everything he was going to say was in his movements, his smooth and purposeful rise from the chair, chest out and cool strides to the podium. this was a proud man. when he grabbed the microphone it looked suddenly much smaller in his hand. he didn't have anything written down in front of him but you could tell he had definitely prepared what he was going to say and had probably practiced it once or twice. 

i was lucky enough to find someone who had filmed all the speeches, so i went over the video and wrote down what he said. i really want to share this with whoever wants to read it, so i hope you enjoy it.. i've included some narration as well. 

*he takes the mic and looks at the bride and sort of gives a nod before looking at his son. this was going to be a word from a father to a son. through the entire speech he's looking right at Ian, and the feeling that gave off was awesome. almost like this was the most honest thing one could ever say to a son, and we were all privy to it. it was incredible.*

"Ian, 

i don't know how you did it

-found this girl, that is.

and i don't know how you tricked her into sticking around

but you've managed to pull her in and she doesn't seem to mind. 

*he sort of chuckles and there are some laughs from the tables, and he goes on.*

she's gorgeous, look at her

right beside you

making you look more of a man than ever.

i guess i must have done something right- 

*you can already hear his voice beginning to strain, and he takes a deep breath*

-to raise you to end up here 

with her.

i remember you Ian,

i remember you from the beginning. 

even you don't remember everything, 

but i've been there right from the start.

your entire life 

your first breath

your first word

step, first fall,

your first gold medal

first car

*he chokes up and pauses, you can hear him breathing to calm himself down.*

and now

after being there for your whole life

more of your life than you've known

i'm seeing you start a new one

with someone so beautiful 

god couldn't make her twice.

and this time

you'll see it right from the beginning.

with every life though, Ian,

*when he says his name it's as if the universe is giving a nod of approval. i told you, they had some crazy energy between them for this.*

remember this-

there are always firsts.

there are always scraped knees

and skinned elbows.

but they do heal.

and kisses always make them feel better.

*here he looks at the bride and sort of tips the mic to her, as if he were greeting someone with a tip of the hat.*

so,

i know how busy life is.

and i can tell you-

new ones are the busiest.

so i don't think i'll have this much of your attention again for a long time,

possibly not until i die.

*he said that very matter-of-fact, in such a way that it wasn't so grim as logical.*

i want you to know i don't mind. 

she needs you,

you're starting your life.

and seeing you do that...

*he starts to choke up a little bit again.*

i could never be happier.

i know you think this speech should be a congratulations,

it's not.

this is a thank you.

*when he says "thank you" it's as if he'd never said it before and all this weight had just come off him.*

thank you 

for being a good son.

for bringing out the best in everyone.

for pursuing your own dreams

and never giving up.

thank you

for finding true love,

and for making me

*staggered sharp breath*

the proudest father.

i love you."

he put the mic back on the stand and looked like that was the last time he would be able to say that to his son, and not someone's husband. he started walking towards the bride and groom but Ian was already on the floor. that was a sight. no one was clapping, there were no cheers or anything, it was quiet. it was a moment. father and son, hugging in the middle of the room with all their friends and family surrounding them, the son dressed a charcoal grey suit, looking like he could own the world, and the father in a faded, slightly brighter grey dress jacket, white dress shirt and black pants (someone later told me that he had the jacket resized and was the same one he wore when he got married, that's why it was faded.)

they both had tears coming down their faces but neither were saying a thing. i'm not sure if they could if they tried. and the camera didn't catch it but i remember looking over at the bride and the look on her face was something i will never forget. she looked like she just realized how the man she just married became that man. or maybe she saw exactly how much trust there was- between father and son, and between the father and her. she was taking his son away after-all, and he was trusting her with that. and there were some other looks thrown in there, not as prevalent, but there. shock, joy, discovery, nostalgia, pride, and love. 

and i'm going to end it there. the video keeps going but i think that's a nice ending. 

or beginning.

Nervous

he looks at you

beautiful.

he looks at his shoes

scuffed.

he glances left 

at nothing in particular.

he looks at you

stunning...

he looks at you

beautiful.

straightening his back

handsome.

he looks at his shoes

scuffed.

he shuffles his feet

nervous.

he glances left

at nothing in particular.

rocking on his feet

hands stuffed in his pockets.

he looks at you

stunning...

he's smiling

hopeful.

he looks at you

beautiful.

straightening his back

handsome.

"Hi."

he looks down at his shoes

scuffed.

he shuffles his feet

nervous.

"So would you, uhh..."

he glances left

at nothing in particular.

rocking on his feet,

hands stuffed in his pockets.

"i mean..."

he looks at you

stunning.

he's smiling.

hopeful.

"Do you like coffee?"

The Loneliest Man

how quiet it must have been

for you, michael collins...

how calm it must have seemed

for you, michael collins...

how tranquil you must have felt

up there alone

with no one on the radio,

except for you, michael collins...

doing something no one had done

with no one around to see

because you were in a place no one had been

with no way to share what you saw

because even radios fail that far away from home.

but not you, michael collins...

how dark was it in there

with not even the sun to guide your way?

how still was the air

with not even the wind to make a sound?

how many times did you ask yourself,

michael collins,

if you would ever see home again?

how many times did you think to yourself,

michael collins,

that you might not ever again

see the faces you remember?

on that clearest night,

did the stars not seem brighter than before?

upon coming into the sun again,

did you,

michael collins,

not feel lighter than before?

it must have been strangely startling 

to have been startled by that strange crackle

coming from the radio.

for another human voice to sound so foreign

yours must have been a lie.

how did it feel leaving that void,

michael collins,

and crashing back into existence? 

how soon did it feel,

to you, michael collins,

that your feet were back on the ground?

i imagine you must miss that silence.

...

i imagine you must 

from time to time

walk far far away

and look back up at the stars.

i would ask you one question if i could,

michael collins,

on the clearest night

when you look up into that darkness

have the stars ever been brighter than before?

*Michael Collins was the 3rd astronaught on the apollo 11 mission. he didn't walk on the moon, he had to stay in orbit to pick them up later. while on the other side of the moon all radio contact was lost. for those 48 minutes he was the farthest anyone has ever (even now) been from the earth and from another living thing. he really was the loneliest man. Don't forget his name.

The March

i will walk until i feed the soil with my bones

and i will not stop for food or water

as i do not need these things for where i aim to go.

i will not look back at who i leave behind,

at who will age and crumble where they stand

as these statues do not line the halls of where i aim to rest.

the years will pass beneath my feet like dreams within my sleep,

and names will fade from faces and those faces to the distance.

of all the places they will haunt not one will be my thoughts. 

my soul will ware with each dessert crossed

leaving pieces of myself at every corner turned

until i walk on bruised and bloody heels leaving crimson prints behind.

the heat will bake my skin, the rain will wash the dust,

and this coat of skin hanging on these bones will fall;

i will be then just my core, only bones outside an empty husk

bones are brittle and will break, marrow staining resting rocks.

this last effigy will fail, falling forward with momentum

pointing in direction one last time at where i aim to go.

i will then be free.

Rapunzel

i went to visit a friend of mine the other day, i haven't known her my whole life but she was just someone who fit. you know, like really just works with who you are and who you need in your life. someone worth keeping around. we met while we were still kids, not while we were super young, but while we were letting ourselves be kids for a moment, caught up in trying to feel the same way we used to when we truly were children. i was going for a walk, pretending i was walking the same woods i would walk at home, to school, from school, to friend's houses, from friend's houses, to work, from work. i don't know which was the last reason i ever walked those trails, but i was pretending there wasn't a last. 

walking, it was a beautiful day, not that i remember the sky, the heat, the wind, or was it rain? it was beautiful, it must have been. when i first saw her she was a brilliant streak of blonde hair in the middle of the wet green and shady brown of the trees. 

there was a fort in the trees along the path that i had chosen, and there was a woman also pretending being a kid again inside of it. she was leaning over the only half built railing, peering, with one hand keeping the sun from her eyes placed over her brow, looking as if one of those sirens from those old stories had actually found itself captain of a ship. i don't think we ever would have met if this moment in time was only a few moments off, and i don't think that if we met any other way that we would ever have thought twice about saying hello. 

when she saw me she didn't even skip a beat, calling out to me as a captain, asking who goes where i was standing and asking for a full report on sailing conditions. i played along, i was a fisherman, tired and weary from a long day's work and the disappointing bounty it gave. sailing conditions were fair but i had fished these waters with my father, and him with his father before him, and so on for many ages. the waters may be fair now but i could tell there would be a storm tonight, i told her i feared if i would make it home. 

"oh!" she said, "well come on up then!" or something equally as out of character and full of energy. i climbed up, having nothing else to do was the last reason i did. i was busy being a kid, and apparently she was too. when i got up and poked my head through the floor i was surprised- she had glass pop bottles, blankets, blankets and peanut butter and jam sandwiches. and hair. so much hair! it fell from her head to the floor and curled around a bit with the extra length.

i asked her what she was doing even though i had a vague idea anyways, and she told me she was looking for something, "just a place" she said. "you know, where i'll end up." i remember thinking that she may have meant a little more than she let on but didn't question it. i mean we're all doing the same. even when we're walking we're looking towards our destination. 

she asked me what i was doing and think i sort of stumbled over my words not knowing what to say, the long and short of it is that i told her i was being a kid, and she didn't even probe, she just understood. 

i didn't know it then but i had climbed up into the ship of someone who would change my life forever, as she explained to me that wherever we are and wherever we go is all determined by who you bump into along the way to wherever you're going. neither of us spoke about anything that was outside the world of two kids in a sailing ship up in the treetops for the rest of the time. there were metaphors and definitely things to be read between the lines, sure, but we kept it as it would have been were we younger. as the storm came she yelled orders and i'd hoist the flag, tie and untie ropes, man the canon and search for where we were going. for a while we weren't sure our ship would make it through, but it did. she credited it to her commanding skills. i couldn't disagree.

it got dark soon after and we looked to the northern star, hoping it would help guide us. she told me stories about constellations that i hadn't heard before, it turned out she was pretty into that kind of stuff. she knew everything about anything that you would never need to know, and i had never heard most of it before. 

we ate, settled down and without a care in the world about morning obligations we slept. close to keep warm, wrapped up in the blankets she had. in the last few words we said to each other she told me her name was Rapunzel. i didn't believe her at first, i thought she was still just playing along but i didn't want to ruin the adventure by pressing further. 

when i woke up she was gone. she left the blankets and had apparently climbed down very quietly. 

i don't know why she left so suddenly in the morning, i never found out. but maybe it was better that way? i did find her again, after all, even if there was a few years between the two meetings. 

That random meet had been on my mind a lot, so i set out to find this person who had so left her mark on me. it took up most of my free time for a while, but it was winter and it's not like there's much to do in the cold anyways, nor is there much to do more rewarding than finding someone so incredible. 

i got next to nowhere doing what i was doing, what tipped me off at first was a friends kid, i overheard her telling her mom that the new teacher isn't nearly as nice as Rapunzel, that she missed her and hopes she gets better. 

i felt kind of weird but i asked around, asking questions about someone i didn't even know. i did find her though; there was a picture in the newspaper of her standing next to her class of kindergartners, they had raised a bunch of money for the school's new playground, and some company was recognizing them for it. 

there she was, stunning even in black and white, her hair still just as long, only braided and rebraided over and over again. i guess that would kind of get in the way of any kind of work. i asked the staff at the school about her, saying i was an old friend who wanted to reconnect or at least say hi. i didn't even know what i would say. anything would sound strange. who was i kidding? i was being strange. i was a stranger. 

she was away on sick leave, apparently it was pretty serious as they were making no assumptions on when she would be back, or if she even can come back afterwards. 

i called the hospital and explained that i would like to set up a visit with her. the receptionist wasn't sure she could do that as i was not immediate family and she wasn't in the best condition, so i asked to speak with who was taking care of her to see if i could tell my story and maybe figure something out. that was acceptable. 

it turns out that her doctor was a friend of hers, and when i told her how we had met and that i would like to say hello she didn't hesitate to say it was okay. she looked like she had just been holding her breath for something and could now breath. i guessed the girl didn't get many visitors. her doctor let me know i was right, and told me i must be an angel or something, as Rapunzel had just told her about the boy she met in the woods one time the other day. 

i set up an appointment for the next day. the doctor said sooner would be better, i wasn't about to question that. 

when i got to her door i stopped. it was room 137. the door was a faded blue. it was on the right side of the hallway and the metal guard on the bottom had scuffs on it from stretcher wheels and the no-slip soles of doctor's shoes. there was a small window in the door, with some sort of mesh in the glass. i looked through it, as if to check this was really the right room. i wanted to be sure. i didn't want to disturb anyone else who was in the terminal ward. 

there she was. sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare, hanging just off the floor. it looked cold. her knees were together, she looked cold. her head was tilted forward, with eyes cast down and lips pursed, she looked defeated. cold. her hands were in her lap, on top of the baby blue hospital apron. they were clutching a yellow mass, it was wrapped around her fingers and fell beside her, behind her. it was her hair.

i almost turned around. i had no idea if she would even recognize me. retelling the story might be nice but having the person show up out of nowhere after years of no communication? that sounds like a bad time.

i opened the door before i could really think about it too much. when she looked up at me, she didn't look. she couldn't. there were eyes, but there was nothing in them. they were still as green as the leaves i first spied her through, but the looked towards me, not at me. i had never actually asked her doctor why she was here, i was too concerned that i wouldn't be let in to ask. 

i didn't know what to say, my voice kind of cracked but i managed a hello. a quick smile flashed across her face and she said "well, hello to you too." 

"do you know who i am?" i asked. "i heard i was lucky enough to have a visitor, that you sound like a nice enough man, and that i knew you from years ago." she let out a little laugh, a quick laugh. one that when you hear it you know it's only there to make an impossibly sad situation a little lighter. "i bet i look a little different now, don't i?" she sort of played with her hands and the hair that was it in before she realized she was still holding it. she quickly put the wig back on, a little crooked and she looked embarrassed. "no," i said, "you're just as pretty... the blue aprons are making a come-back i hear." that made her laugh a bit, a genuine laugh. she said they had told her it was green, that that was her favourite colour, but that it didn't matter much anyhow since she can't see it. she didn't know it, but her eyes were green enough for all the aprons. i told her. she smiled. 

"so why are you here? it's not very fun visiting someone in the hospital. if it was you wouldn't be my only visitor."

"well, i wanted to ask you something actually."

"okay" she said, "what's that?"

"well..." i paused, not really sure what to say, i'd been talking without any real direction so far. it almost seemed unreal, but i continued.

"how are the sailing conditions ahead?" 

there was a laugh, a quick laugh, but her face sunk and the laugh turned into a light tearless sob. the question was meant to give myself away and bring her back to when we met. i had asked how she was doing. 

i was so stupid.  

she was about to cry and i could hear it in her voice.

"well cap'n, there's a storm a'brewin."