I’m sorry you were alone when the faces drifted away. When your days got stolen and good nights emptied. Just a vessel that you God, abandoned. Someone who gave up her soul before she was given one. Where were you when she asked to remember? Why did you punish her when all she did was repeat your name in prayer? Lord, her story deserved a better ending. At least, you could have allowed her to say goodbye to her favourite characters. But, I bet she forgave you too, after paying a toll at the gate. Not for herself… …for me.
The other night, I looked up for the moon To ask him for a small favour “Knock for me…at that heaven’s door” I was alone and needed someone in particular not only did sky open up and become ours the clouds even came by for a listen
Today, I don’t want to exist. Tomorrow is fine, but not today. Today, I don’t deserve anything. I hate the happiness, I hate the gift ideas. I hate the attempts to cheer me up from friends and family. I hate cards, I hate phone calls, I hate the internet. I hate robbing my stepfather from his day, I’m so damn sorry. I hate Sundays, I hate barbecues, I hate gatherings and music. I hate being called something I’m not, stop telling me different. Stop!!! It only encourages me and I lie to myself again. I’m not a Dad a son or daughter wishes were still with us. I’m not a Dad a son or daughter celebrates beating Cancer. I’m not a Dad a son or daughter begs freed from behind bars. I’m not even a Dad a son or daughter forgives for his mistakes. I’m not a Dad…and I have all the scars to prove it.
Every picture tells a story or is a key to one. – Ash
Whenever I see a pile of wood by the side of the road or in someone’s front yard, it instantly takes me back to when I was kid. I believe I was around ten years old. Back that humbling day when I tried to prove to my Uncles that I was just as big and tough as they were. A coming of age moment of my life with a Shade of Ash humour that I will never forget. A bunch of wood grouped together sets the scene and some of you already know this, but I grew up with my grandparents, so my Uncles are like my brothers. There’s five of them. I made six, and the youngest in that dynamic and because of that, I was considered “Mommy’s Boy”. *I called my grandmother, Mom, by the way.
OK, Cue the wavey time-travel lines, fade to the 80’s.
Firewood was a primary source of heat for us growing up, so from time to time, that meant the whole family would have to pitch in and help bring freshly cut wood from my grandfather’s boat up to the front yard to be packed and stacked. Every now and again, my grandfather accompanied by two or three of the Uncles would travel by boat to some remote area to cut down the wood. Then, once they had a load, they would return home where the wood still had to be sawed up and stored away. None of that process involved me though. I got off the hook for stuff like that. Hey! It’s not me, my grandmother just wouldn’t have it back then. She’d look at my Uncles, each of them, and tell them to go on outside and not bother me. “Leave Ashley alone, he’s alright, go on, your fathers waiting.” She’d say. This rotted my uncles of course. Now, they wouldn’t say much in retort and just went on to work. Though like prisoners knowing all the blind spots of a prison yard, they too knew when to get in a few licks and wrestling moves behind my grandparents backs to make sure I knew what’s up. Until that one day, where I had enough of it.
Dead of winter as the winds howl I’m still out there searching for you footprints quickly cover forgetting how far I’ve come my hands, no longer feel my breath, stolen my eyes, blinded by this storm my heart, almost empty my will…unbroken
I wanted to drop in and let you all know that one of my most recent poems has been published on Spillwords. It’s live as of today. I submitted it a little while ago, they liked it, and informed me last week of their intention to share it for their own audience. It made my day and gave me something to smile about given the world’s current state. (A post about that is coming) Now, some of you have already read this poem here on my site, but I thought I would go ahead and share it once more to help take our minds off some of the craziness that’s going on.
As always, I hope you enjoy it. Please don’t forget to comment and tell me what you think. It’s all of you and your continued support that drives my writing and I’m lucky to have such a awesome following.
When you find something that makes you happy, continue to surround yourself with it. Miss it and want more of it. Allow it to imprint on your heart and keep giving your soul what it longs for.– Ash
i look, turn around, and see your face then, it falls away like dust like a living dream not even yours in the first place so, I keep walking along staring at the ground trying harder to recall what’s left of the vision I have of you only time has started to begin to fade the picture even though my heart has a good memory the beats are becoming too far between those flashes no longer able to bring it back to life no matter how much I love you soon, i won’t be able to see you anymore when you’re way out of focus and completely lost from my heart
Earth To Ash 