“
Waiting for October “
A Collection of Free
Verse
Exploring the delicate Journey of Life's Indeterminate
Duration
by
A.R. Koheen
31
~
The
coolness of the night air is balm for my restlessness
and
I allow my mind to drift where it will as long as
it
carries my along.
I’ve spent the day
diligent and busy and now
I’m too tired
to be either here or there and too restless
to
stay where I am.
I haven’t felt this
moody since I was a teenager
Yet oddly, I am
as empty within a crystal sphere
with nothing
to reflect back, I am
therefore I am.
I breath,
therefore I am,
I seek
therefore I know I am
and
the
coolness of the night air is balm for my restlessness
and
I allow my mind to drift where it will as long as
it
carries my along
to a place where I may listen,
content that I am heard.
~
32.
-
It was dusk colored when I woke, though morning.
A thin film of gray shielded the modest rain
I could hear the light tarantella of its striking against
the air conditioner hung in my window
but nothing was visible so far above the influence
of the street lights
or
the light that kept them immobile, asleep
as
I almost longed to be
despite
sleeping through the night without incident.
I am caught betwixt and between ~
enjoying the warm as it keeps the ice at bay
enjoying the sunlight as it keeps the nighttime at bay
but I know all too well
all too deep
in my soul,
Winter crawls near
and I am unprepared –
there will always be one last thing left undone. Sigh…
~
33
-
I find myself humming a song from “South Pacific”
having seen it –most of it- for the first time I now see
why so much was made of it at the time,
that time when happy endings were still allowed,
expected,
the
anti-hero not yet celebrated as ‘cool’
a
goal to be sought after, when rap was a sound
made
by knocking something
before ‘knocking
something’ itself became one
with putting
something down
when ‘hep’ was ‘hip’
and ‘gay’ was ‘happy’
and
I find myself humming a tune from its many
summer
enchantments
despite a world at war
“ This almost was mine “
because, as I muse, I find it the oddest yet
that in this graying transition between
youth and old age
I
am the most deeply content I have ever been
And
I do without nothing
I have all my needs and
most of my whims met-
yet – I hear a
melody that sums up
what I am allowing to slip
through my fingers
and I sing, “This
almost was mine” ??
-
34.
-
I
cannot be sure, even when I try, If I am
More interested
in the two documentaries because
Of the story I’m
writing on my heart
And then transcribing to paper,
Or…
If I am more interested in the story I’ve just began
Because of the two documentaries that aired,
one
after the other,
removing The Civil War, capitol letters,
from the realm of “Gone With The Wind”
to
the breath of
an Atlantic wind
passing over an offshore island named for
a great hero
by then…
where else would an island be but offshore? J
-
35.
-
The Life and Times of Homer Winslow.
I
guess its just human nature to have an interest
in the age
you’re exercising so I found myself
listening to the
documentary for the fourth time
in as many
years with emphasis
for the first time on the latter years.
I understood the gentling phrase:
“ He had little patience to bear fools” and ..
I think I understood this time why stopping his work
to chat aimlessly over high tea
with patrons
he no longer needed for validation
when the sense of eternity’s
nearness begins to press
against the late in life interest
in health foods
and supplements that youth scorns, like
sleep
and sleep scorned that lends a piquant loveliness
to the hours that flee too willingly.
And why they were put off by his not heeding them
As much as they need him to give meaning
to their empty hours –the same time
spent
in such a different fashion
as the great stillness nears.
It isn’t fear of what is but what we will leave undone.
-
36.
-
It’s been
overcast all day, is August ashamed of
what she’s
letting go, having come with such vigor and promise?
It’s
as gray now as when I rose early this morning
But the wind
is blowing gently,
pushing aside my blinds
to peak over my shoulder at the computer screen.
Does it wonder what I am saying about it?
Does it wish to see what I intend to publish?
Or
does it seek Cat as he sleeps in ‘his’ chair?
Is it drawn by the smell of the roast on the stove?
Or the song in my heart?
Can it warm itself from the heat rising off my form
as I sit, wondering of I should close the window?
if it feels
too good to be true, it probably is…
yet it coaxes
my mind away
from the closed loop of memory,
I walking beside my Grandmother Emma as she shuffled
toward the bathroom both back bedrooms shared
at the end of the hall in the house
my father’s
blood bought
and Nancy sold to make a three thousand dollar
profit,
when it came to be ten times that as Silicon Valley
came to life.
“ Why am I sleeping so much when I’ll soon sleep forever?”
Grandmother asked, and I winced.
She
wouldn’t allow me to share my view of eternity.
What
if she were right and I were wrong?
I thought then.
Knowing better, I still don’t know
how else I could have opened my mind to help her to believe
when each of us is the author and prisoner
of our own beliefs and choices?
-
37.
-
To purr in reassurance isn’t a cat’s
way, I had to teach Shiloh
what I meant when I did it, and
though like the android
of that futuristic television show,
he struggles to be human,
there are times, like this morning,
after he meowed to me eagerly and came to my feet
and all I did was to put down a spoonful of ‘wet food’
on a clean plate
when
I could have sworn! He gave the kitty-cat
equivalent
of an eyebrow raised in disdain!?!
-
38
-
I am reassured that
in times past GOD has spoken
to open hearts by means of
a dream,
because I just had a whooper!
It reminded me of the awesome power of the Holy One,
Blessed be His Name,
and
called for me to rise like blinded Samson
the only enemies
I'm taking down are
fatigue, fear, pain and helplessness.
It is a clarion call to allow my spirit to rise,
the battle is the Lord's
and
He is more than able, and in Him I am
more than a conqueror.
I felt God's Presence come to my rescue as
no 'superhero' of my childhood could have mimicked
and I was left in awe!
It
may have only been a dream
but it speaks of an infinite
Reality beyond
the grasp of my finite mind,
except in this one thing.
I
have my joy fully returned for the first time
in almost
a decade
and THIS TIME I'm going to fight to keep it,
no matter the circumstances!
maybe now I can stand up
instead
of biting at the tip of my tail
and cowering in my own body!!!
Yours in fresh hope and joy,
Asia and Shiloh
-
39
-
For three days the temperatures
have dropped thirty degrees
now we are told
there will be three days of summer’s heat,
even
a record heat, on Wednesday, but at night
the
reality creeps in with temperatures in the forties and thirties
while floods rake more and more across the world
and the cooling weather takes the mobility I’ve come to count on
as three days temperatures have dropped thirty degrees
and now we are told there will be three days of summer’s heat,
even a record heat, on Wednesday,
so I focus on the excitement that one of my favorite Westerns
is being translated into Hebrew-that is
what I live for!
The little story I am writing
now flows serenely
toward some unknown future
as my hope begins to bend
at the corners, weighed
down by physical lacks
and perhaps hopes too
high under any circumstances…
and yet…there’s
always ‘and yet’…
as I look
around where I am and I see people I once trusted
beginning
to demand back what I demanded of them
when
I was sick enough to be catered too
and promises
being broken that I, like every other person,
conscious
of mortality do what we scorned in the pride of our
youth
and strength and belatedly follow the promise of strength
and
I find myself surrounded by friendly faces I sadly took for
granted
and as I look-I find new smiles, within, and somehow…
while
floods rake more and more across the world
and
the cooling weather takes away the mobility I’ve counted on
and three days temperatures have dropped thirty degrees
that which we cannot change, but accept, gives us a strength
that has nothing to do with our legs or our arms but in a spirit
unbowed, unspent, untried, and delighted...whatever tomorrow
brings with the light of its dawn.
-
40.
-
I suppose I shouldn’t be so hard on myself
everyone gets a little down, everyone gets tired
once in a while.
It
makes the better times all the sweeter
because you appreciate
them again.
****
SEPTEMBER
-
41.
-
It’s started
already, the cold brings immobility
but this year is different
from the others
for my spirit rises
even as the temperatures plummet!
The dust and ash blew the air brown as I watched
the
sunset colors hidden from view in drab grap.
Perhaps that
made the contrast of the view
available on my television
more dear
the water sparkling over the rounded back
of the mossy rock, soundless, except in memory,
the unfamiliar bird song thrown out violently
a challenge, a strength,
bringing something
into my world
as I watched a commercial, barriers erected~
I saw a small green frog in my mind’s eye,
Listened to its croaking and chirp
With my inner ear,
maintaining the same function
as the bird’s
appraisal of ownership and I smiled,
caught between two worlds
in yet another way.
-
42.
-
From
the high nineties last week
to the mid sixties
by the middle of next week
while
the fires from British Columbia
vie with the sea winds bringing
cold
and Cat cuddles with me under the covers
until I go to sleep – and I foolish thought
that I was offering comfort to him!
As I lay there, unable to sleep
and
unwilling to rise I glimpsed
a better, stronger, kinder
vision of myself watching
from the edge which sometimes
seems miles away
and sometime far too near as my chest contracts
under the weight of my laboring heart
as I labor in love to leave a legacy,
proof that I was here.
-
43.
-
Shiloh is in my lap but as I have no skirt I hesitate.
his fur protects and warms me but if he falls
there’s no protection against his claws or against
the pain that claws at me, oddly, after such a lovely day.
I’m more tired when I get up then when I laid down,
I look at the things that I assume will go wrong
even
though my head knows that Paratransit
was justified in writing
me up, a door has closed
I depended on too strongly, and
winter approaches.
Where is the contentment that wrapped
me today?
Did I wrap it around me too tightly?
Did I hide it from myself?
Is
it simply hiding from me?
Why can’t I be a friend?
Why can’t I trust the friends I made?
Only one out of several turned on me, but on whom
do I dwell? And why?
Do
I think myself unworthy of being at peace?
Is it simply
because October is days away?
Or…or am I simply overtired
and need to go to bed
till the drunks coming out wake me
as they woke me going into the bar?
Or do I simply need to be stern with myself
and put the bar back up higher
where it stayed
all winter, spring and summer?
-
44.
-
In the quiet of night a car’s passage seems linked
in ways it doesn’t during the daylight,
even close to dawn;
people rise and go to
work, trying to sip coffee
and steer at the same time
and the only vibrations I feel
are the ones in the air as a new day unfolds
like a flower that closed up for the night
yawning
itself awake – here
motorcycles dominate – or
at least one
revving shrilly and blasting from here to there
in a loud show of bravado, awakening memories
of my husband’s son making the noises with his mouth
as he played with his cars on the staircase
at the house on May Avenue in Santa Cruz-
how
can so much changed for so little to have altered?
-
45.
-
I
hear the blinds being moved about by the wind at will
and
while I’m grateful for the fresh influx of air
in
my bedroom while Cat and I stay out here
in the light, I
pause…I have so much!
I have so much of what I longed
for as a child.
I have so much of what I longed for as a
teen.
I have so much of what I longed for as a young married.
I have so much of what I longed for as a new widow.
I have so much of what I longed for as I grew accustomed
to the emptiness in the bed beside me and in my life
I have so much of what I longed for as a homeless person
For those terrible three months that lasted a lifetime.
I have so much of what I longed for as a sick and lonely woman.
I have so much of what I longed for as I laid on the bed
and cried myself to sleep from the pain
only to have it wake me a hour later.
I have
so much of what I longed for,
And it is only because of
Thee, Dear Lord,
for without Thee,
I have nothing again and nothing still!
-
46.
-
The Labor Day Weekend is here, bringing RL’s birth
date.
This year I can look and smile for there are more
than miles
between us.
No wonder I felt so homesick for Santa Cruz ~ or that
when I called the spoke with old friends
and
remembered old places I knew I couldn’t go back.
Thomas
Wolfe was right – you can never return
to your starting
point
and if I tried there’d be no one left who remembered,
nothing left of the memories I buried
in mock balls and the tears of regret, in the sea
the sea beside the shore and the sea
of
forgetfulness…until tonight
when a chance memory
reminded me how tightly we store
the things that really
matter to us, and take them with us
whatever the length
of the journey…
as in Life,
whatever the length of the Journey.
-
47.
-
I sat quietly to watch the dawn struggle
awake
as I sipped fresh hot coffee while
Cat remained snuggled
on the bed where I left him as I rose.
He’s used to me getting up several times before I
finally shuffle past the alluring horizontal surface
and try to pry my eyes open with promises
of what I’ll fix to break my fast
as
soon as I checked my ‘numbers’
and taken my
first daily shot…but today
I broke with the routine
and came back in to snuggle down in the red arm chair
at the end of the bed.
I
felt the steam dampen my lashes as I sipped
in slow, easy
promises of when its cooled, when I’ve dressed,
I’m
too content to rush the day awake with electric emphasis,
I’d
rather sit and yawn and dream, perchance to dream
Hamlet
said, speaking his writer’s thoughts aloud,
They speak
for us, don’t they?
giving voice to things we may
not even suspect
Until we hear another speak them.
I pride myself on allowing my characters ‘room’ to
speak
opposite of what I believe, to be fair.
A harkening back to a childhood I can suddenly no longer
remember with such clarity.
My
last link to them has gone, I will soon follow,
But this
day, this hour, this moment, I am content
I am myself-and
content with whatever that might be,
and I smile as the
sun peaks his head over the river
to see if anyone is watching?
If we weren’t,
would he hit the snooze button
and ‘just
take five more please?’
…I was awake. I guess
I’ll never get to know.
sigh…
-
48.
-
The procession of flying birds wheeled
across the mid day sky
beginning to flock and wheel
in preparation for their long yearly migration.
This year I have no longing to join them.
I am finally content where I am.
as Cat played
in the hall I sat beside the door watching him,
sipping
from my coffee cup though its been cold for hours,
I was
numb from a three-day marathon of writing
and content to
simply watch as he played,
but for once, he simply looked
up at me, and laid down
near my feet in a startling display
of middle age sloth
or compassion, sensing how much I ache,
I can’t tell, yet seeing him, I found contentment deepening.
The white turkey feather sleeps under ‘his’ chair,
The small white mouse of rabbit fur that frightened and annoyed
him as kitten, he allowed to sleep by his side
as he pressed himself against his worn Cadbury Bunny,
and it struck me that you know you’re middle aged when
you make peace with the world instead of
attempting to bully it
into following your
rules…
and my heart gave a queer little jump that
has nothing to do
with the weight and the pressure waking
me in the night,
or the acknowledgement of my morality,
for like cat and his small white nemesis I have made peace
it was the sigh of the diamond on the linoleum floor
and how it jumped out at me-home!
So that’s it!
After so many years of
not belonging,
I finally have a place I may call home!
Imagine that!
-
49.
-
My tongue itches! It’s annoying!
I know what it means when your nose itches-
You’re going to get money-
Or kiss a fool.
But what does it mean when
your tongue itches?
That you haven’t anything better
to occupy your mind????
-
50.
-
I sat down to tally
how much work I’d accomplished
between January and
September, and I was pleased.
I looked at the shortening
breadth of the work-
From novels to novellas to short stories
–
though truth be told a forty page story IS a short
story
to me. It took seventeen hundred pages
to tell the Story of my LORD on the earth
as I wanted it told,
as I hoped I could tell
it,
as I did my best to tell it,
and tonight, as I checked the stats I found
that someone is patiently working their way through
the
final volume, and my heart gained peace.
It never bothered
me that I put this out ‘in the air’
that I had
to fend off contemptuous slurs
that others would copy my
work, add their name,
and ‘get the money’ …sigh…
how could I tell them without seeming self-pity
that I rejoice that I’ve shared my heart
and my ‘people’ with the world…that my health
would not have permitted me to share them otherwise,
yet…
and there’s always a ‘yet’…
yet tonight for the first time
I looked beyond my expectations of my joy
and
I saw a terrible blank
where my constant joy has been…the
site will go
and who will remember it?
I won’t care…then…and now that I’ve spoken it aloud
I don’t think I care now either
Because…
and
there’s always a ‘because’ even to my seeming madness
because of the friends I’ve made along the way.
Because
of the friends who patiently downloaded the stories
as they
arrived and locked them in their hearts.
For Knox should
be as lucky to have that vast a vault
For trusting in Him
and thee, I have found
that the journey is
the joy…and there is joy
in the Journey!
Shalom, Dear One.
~ ~
Asia…and Shiloh.
