for the kiddos...prison of personality
Spirits of my past shine from my children's eyes, reminding me, glaring at me, showing a picture of me when I was their size. Some nameless rage wells up - how much like them all I was before I fell, my personality woven through them, so like me in so many ways; but all shades of gray of themselves where black and white is all I see... one in quiet, violent withdrawal - Beauty: another in stoic confusion- Brilliance: and one, perhaps, crash-bound in excess of joy- Love. My children, and that nameless rage at myself hitting gut-level, for helping make them what they are, not knowing they'd suffer so. Call that rage guilt, call their love for me forgiveness, call their mother and I a quilt, a cover that surrounds them - and call their similarities to us sharp things to use to cut themselves free from this prison of personality.
Love them back, because that's the quintessence of Being, living and breathing: the Love that seeks a return of love. God take care of my children. I do love them so.
Love them back, because that's the quintessence of Being, living and breathing: the Love that seeks a return of love. God take care of my children. I do love them so.
August 1996
4 comments:
Here's my promised quote poppa. Sorry I forgot about your B-day, but I spose the fact that I forget everyone else's this year might soften the blow (I live with Treese and I still didn't realize it was her birthday till she baked herself a cake).
Hang on to that picture, every time I look at it it nearly blinds me. All we were back then were three spots of massive potential, a crapload of karma waiting to play itself out. I guess we were all a bunch of dark souls, but we're getting closer to the light every year. For us it's an inward thing - searching for the light that's been inside the whole while instead of struggling with the external. What you used to tell me still remains most true of all: it's simplicity that's important. We'll become monks yet I expect.
Talk to you soon daddy-o.
he, tks for dat dere comment, me boyo. no problem on the missing my birthday thing, neither. Everyone forgot this year except Heather, bless her teeny little heart. you and me work quite a bit alike - sometimes we pulsate along with life, and sometimes we don't. everything's alright as long as we can live with our differentnesses.
Love you, boy,
Dad
I have to comment because this is so beautiful. I also can't comment because its way too close to me right now. i love you Perry
i just love it when someone loves me - i love you too, whoever you are!
P.
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