I has not seen…

“What are you writing little one?”

“Secret.”

Her eyes bright and a familiar glint,
steady delight and a flash of mischief.

His smile split a sun in a far solar system.

“Secrets, indeed.”

Flipping a page in the little purple notebook
her obedient pencil fills fresh paper with gangly letters
sprawling and alive with a new lamb’s steady uncertainty.

He drew his own instrument and began:
“Secrets they are, dear one. And I will reveal them to your precious heart, every one.”

Words written and mailed to years forward,
folded with care into the mind of a future playmate.

Uncapped…

“Someone already paid for you. Is that a Topo Chico necklace?”
Me holding two dripping bottles in my hand.
“Really. Huh. Like…”
Spreading smile.
“Wow. That g… uh yeah. I guess I’m kind of crazy about this stuff.”

Will of the woods…

(from Skagit Valley, British Columbia)

Slopes lay streaked with skeletons where the giants had stood. Bandage white, washed by mountain sun… not the color of woods. Yet wood they fell; still there. Some steel, man, his will; well they just bent wood’s will. Steel will where wood won’t, and man won’t where God will. So all these you see, men brought buckling to theirs. Trees seen to scratch the back of the sky; trees known for whispers, groan… stop. Now men and their screaming claws have fled with the crop. Only remains rotting bones of pine with no box. These woods cannot whisper but look, their story is a plain glare.

But there, with a Poet’s eyes, look. That is, look and be wise. Humble death’s child must rise.
Sparkling needles press through, bleeding green and the ground is a quilt of life, all new.

It is man to wail and steal and make some way.
It is woods to lay and wait and grow another day.
I wonder who will have the final will and say…
Will man hold and stay, or will the Woods?

Soul tied to…

“Been thinking about your loony bottle cap idea…”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, maybe it goes with the whole ‘no greater love’ thing. You know, maybe what someone will pay for something, that’s what makes it worth that much.”

Squinty eyes.

“I mean, how do we know when a painting is worth a million dollars?
…When someone pays $1MM for it.”

Light bulbs.

“Yes! Right! And how do we know she’s a princess with virtue and beauty?
…When a prince dares death for her!”

“How do you make everything about a princess?
What are you.. are you writing down our conversation?”

If Someone bleeds for you, that makes you pretty precious… right?

Hold that thought…

I thought she would be the best thing that ever happened to me
I thought kids would bring the brightest shine you’d ever seen
But the winces and winks said “just you wait and see”

Well I don’t want to wait and see
I wanna laugh and fight and love and make it be
We’re made for this play not a possibility
I wanna give it all we’ve got
I wanna hold that thought

I thought love could walk you two a whole life through
I thought if you believe too, so would it be to you
But the winces and wags said “really, don’t play the fool”

Well I wanna play like it’s all brand new
I wanna do and teach and believe that word is true
We’re made for faith and flying too
I wanna give it all we’ve got
I wanna hold that thought

I thought it’s time to break and whaddayou say
I thought the light is here and dying is the way
But the winces and whines said “we fear, you should stay”

Hey.

You’ll find the rest of the third verse through the links below.

You get to write the end of the story.

Open the one that speaks to you.
What you see is what you will get.
Not everything that is true is the truth.
True story…

V3: Facts Are truth

…if enough people are saying it, it must be true.

V3: Faith is Truth

…some things are just plain worth believing in.

Death by laughter…

NOTE: I was sprinkling in the strange, the lid popped off. Don’t tell anyone, I’m pretending I did it on purpose. Chef’s Special.

“Where do we come from?”

The strange boy pulled his eyes from the fire to study his curious companion.

The other boy looked away, quickly. It almost seemed like the fire had stayed in his eyes…

That’s not possible. Boys don’t carry fire in their eyes. Not even strange ones.

The sticks crackled.

“Well,” the strange boy spoke slowly, “when a man and a woman love each other…”

“Whoa whoa whoa. No no I mean like where… what land do we come from.”

The strange boy was off his seat and rolling on the ground.

He came up wheezing “Oh man, my asthma. I can’t… that was…” hack. cough. “That is… so funny. You’re trying to kill me!”

Normally he would run when the ‘I asked another stupid question’ feeling came, and hide until his face shaded from prickly pear pink back to desert sands whiteish. Two things held him this time. First, his friend might die of laughter at any moment, and he had never seen anyone die, of laughter. Second… well, you know. So he grimaced a grin and pressed on.

“I meant where do we come from physically…”

“Physically?” Giggles were bouncing his curls again.

“Can we just converse like adults please?”

“You mean you want an adult conversation?” More life-threatening laughs.

“I mean, I mean… look, there are twigs stuck in your hair that look like antennae and it’s super distracting me.”

“You mean ‘geographically.’”

“Yeah. But also before that, like where did we all originally come from?”

“Oooh. You mean… ‘in the beginning.’”

“You know it’s creepy when you do that with your hands… but yeah. In the beginning.”

“Oh man this is such a good story, one of the best. Actually can’t believe I haven’t told it yet. So in the beginning…”

“Hey we need more sticks.”

“Awesome! We can…”

“Don’t say it.”

“…walk-n-talk. It just sounds fun. Walk-n-talk. Walk-n-talk. Say it with me. Walk-n-talk. Hey, wait for me!”

“Okay, so in the beginning was…”

The desert woods drank his drifting away voice while the fire whimpered…

…and then played dead.

The lark & the owl…

“You know, daytime really is the best time. Sunshine splashes over everything and my song comes like a geyser from my heart.”

“Yes, daytime is nice.”

“But?”

“The night will make you deep and wise. Next time you’re up early, waiting for the dawn, look up and hold the bucket of your heart under that waterfall.”

Light is always there, if you’re lookin.

Here’s to lookin.

Time to go…

Some people leave without saying goodbye.
Some people goodbye for awhile without leaving.

Call me crazy; I’ve always admired the first.

There’s a certain confidence, leaving without saying goodbye.

Con-fidence… with-faith.

With-faith, we’ll be together again.
With-faith, shared between steadfast-hearted friends.

So slip out the side when Time knows it’s right.

Them whose truth is tried will know.

Dying isn’t “goodbye.”

It’s “see you when I see you.”

P.S. Flip one page back for a picture of the meeting before the leaving…

Hiding for their lives…

July 6th, 1942. A two year game of Hide & Seek begins.

In this game, when you lose, you die.

They first escaped, fleeing to Holland.

But the sun is setting on the free world, and darkness marches on.

So Anne Frank and family are hiding for their lives.

After the war ended, they found Anne’s diary, you know.

Left where she was found. Waiting for the light.

1947 translated her into English and she went the world around.

A 13, 14, 15 year-old girl who knew things some people never know.

In this Game, when you hope, you live.

Only he?

They say a sailor loves the sea….
…but what does the sea say?

He is hollers and hoots and scopes and charts.
This star and that port and treasure and returning with glory for the court.
She is waves and wallows and winds and whispers.
Everywhere and near and over and under and washing the world with tears.
Trimming and tacking and trading with the wind… does he think only he brought himself to here?
He might… splash over her tremendous deep and step to the con with forgetful feet.
So she rages and tears at his blistered beams,
the tackle and the ties, all to touch his hiding heart, inside.
He scabs his knees and wails and weeps…
“oh god save me from this terrible sea!”

Now sails are tissues and masts are toothpicks…
…you hear the Loveliest whisper “I AM, this terrible sea, is me.”

Soul tie…

“What’s the story on the necklace?”

Shifting glances.

“Story?”

“Yeah. That’s new, right?”

“Uh, just something I like a lot. Hey, I’ve been looking at this cool Hebrew word, nefesh, you know about it?”

“Come on, there’s always a story with you.”

Guilty chuckles.

“Alright, I guess there’s a story. And it’s not new, just finally tied it together.”

“Ha! But hold on, I only have like three hours, so…”

Arm punch.

“Relax. It’s a short one. So I was at this little place, first time…”

“What place? Have I been there?”

“Doubt it, off the beaten path. Really cute place, old fashioned, but fresh, lively, and…”

Interruption. “Hey guys how’s it going?”

“Extremely very… fine. We’re fine, yeah. What’s good with you?”

Skipping rocks conversation.

“Okay, so… necklace? Short story?”

“Right. So standing in line a guy tried to toss this cap into a basket on the other side of me, guess I was in the way or something. Anyway he missed and it fell on the floor by my feet, I was like ‘oh I got it.’”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much. I don’t know, I couldn’t toss it. So I put it in my pocket.”

“Hmph.”

Shrugs.

“Yeah, I think about weird things. In all of space and time, if either one of us hadn’t been there at the same place and time… whatever. My sister says I’m a mad hatter… lovingly… in love.”

“I can see where she’s coming from… so you made it into a necklace.”

“Yep. I guess somewhere I got bent, I don’t know, I look for the under appreciated thing, the thing someone else thought wasn’t a thing, the passed over thing. What something could be is what is secretly is. Like a seed. I made it special to me and I think that makes me something.”

“That’s either brilliance or we need to put you in a home.”

Laughs all the way through.

“I’m trusting you to tell me when I need to get help.”

“Do I dare ask about the Hebrew thing?”

“Oh yeah, this is cool. Nefesh, usually translated ‘soul’ or ‘life?’ Same word is literally translated ‘neck.’”