History

- Robert Lowell

History has to live with what was here,
clutching and close to fumbling all we had--
it is so dull and gruesome how we die,
unlike writing, life never finishes.
Abel was finished; death is not remote,
a flash-in-the-pan electrifies the skeptic,
his cows crowding like skulls against high-voltage wire,
his baby crying all night like a new machine.
As in our Bibles, white-faced, predatory,
the beautiful, mist-drunken hunter's moon ascends--
a child could give it a face: two holes, two holes,
my eyes, my mouth, between them a skull's no-nose--
O there's a terrifying innocence in my face
drenched with the silver salvage of the mornfrost.

from: Selected Poems. Copyright 1976.

from: When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom'd

     by Walt Whitman

1
When lilacs last in the door-yard bloom'd,   
And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,   
I mourn'd—and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.   
   
O ever-returning spring! trinity sure to me you bring;   
Lilac blooming perennial, and drooping star in the west,
And thought of him I love.      

2
O powerful, western, fallen star!   
O shades of night! O moody, tearful night!   
O great star disappear'd! O the black murk that hides the star!   
O cruel hands that hold me powerless! O helpless soul of me!
O harsh surrounding cloud, that will not free my soul!      

3
In the door-yard fronting an old farm-house, near the white-wash'd
   palings,   
Stands the lilac bush, tall-growing, with heart-shaped leaves of rich
   green,   
With many a pointed blossom, rising, delicate, with the perfume
   strong I love,   
With every leaf a miracle......and from this bush in the door-yard,
With delicate-color'd blossoms, and heart-shaped leaves of rich
   green,   
A sprig, with its flower, I break. 

Some Days the Past Pulls Hard

A Generation Ago, Nearly An Entire Generation Was Lost.

So very much has changed since then.

So much, and yet today I mark the first anniversary of my son's death. 

Twenty eight year-olds don't die of aids.

No matter how many times I repeat those words . . .

We all miss you B.
And Dax & the fairies send their regards.

Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation

Elton John AIDS Foundation

 AIDS Research Alliance

It Gets Better Project

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY B, WE MISS YOU

RIP B

 

Due to the wonder that is pre-scheduling, my blog has been rolling along uninterrupted. Some of you, however, may have noticed a dearth of research and links attached to my posts lately. That’s because we have been caring for our son as he passed through a miserable wasting illness and my focus was there. With the support of Hospice we were able to have him home with us and late last night he completed his journey. He has left us with a hole in our hearts.

We miss you B