when the blueberries come back…so do you
we’re together again
scraping and scrounging along the hillside
every three paces we fill our cups
the colour blue today is for happiness
its sweet taste…a reminder of your touch
as I hold a few on the day they first appear
the air is the same chill
trees with the same tinge of change
cloud shadows still pass over me like they did
I see them at my feet
I am seven again
catching up with your pace
as my bucket spills over
on blueberry hill
I mentioned my daughter today as I always do in conversation. Oddly enough, to someone the same age as her. The response, “If she is anything like you, Ash, I’m sure she is just as awesome.” My heart sank. Why does the rest of the world see what she cannot? Why do I try to convince myself that what they say is not true because it is not told to me by her? Why do I feel broken and all she did was just sweep away the pieces? Questions I ask all the time because I hurt all the time. Something must be wrong with me.
But then someone comes along and suddenly, my reflection in the mirror changes. The questions disappear as I find another piece of me that was thrown away. Returned by a friendly face reminding me how my big my heart actually is.
no idea where I was going
where my footsteps were taking me
not long off the bus and my bags still hanging off the borrowed bed
I’m running toward something
my faith in a girl next door relationship
built on the stock of only a few summers
we were school break friends and I just had to see this
according to everyone
and everyone was going to be there
that was the promise and with a pinky swear
I was a nervous boy in a foreign land
on loan from thirteen-year-old best buds
speaking only the language of the shy and quiet ones
making what would become a beautiful memory
under the bright big moon
along the sparkle-kissed river
surrounded by the sounds of the teenage
on a warm night in August
by the trestle bridge
today, the air was different
I paid attention to the seabirds
watched the tide go all the way out
to my left, a boat hummed away from the harbour
to my right, lost sheep chew green grass into yellow
a car passes by and the people wave
while Jack the black cat sits still on a picket fence
and Patti, the old neighbour strokes the last drop of paint
…against his saltbox home
I am shaken by something I can’t understand
an algorithm of existing in a moment of my life
seeing clear because that life stopped me in my tracks
pushed my breath straight to my lungs
grew my heart for the love of living
filled me with the longing for more
I know now that there is something more to every day
my heart was smothered and my soul blinded
until my spirit had enough and awakened
We should not worry about how long we will live? But, rather, how do we live? Quantity of life is a one-time blessing. It’s the quality of life that provides forever bliss. – Ash
When something catches your eye, it’s probably already made it to your heart. – Ash
I went for a walk just now and, along the way, I saw this single leaf still fixed to the tree. Standing there, I thought about if this symbolized anything. Maybe there was a meaning. Then, in a moment, it came to me. Somedays, I may be fragile. But I am damn strong when it matters. Anyday. I can, have, and will weather any storm. I will always hang on. – Ash
One Saturday
an old used-up weekend in my life
back when I was a small boy who took shortcuts home
I remember that Saturday and how golden was the hillside
how the fences cast shadows through blades of long grass
while it danced when the wind played the lead
along the way I ducked clotheslines with flapping white blankets and wool socks
that made dogs bark for no reason
almost home I stopped to take a drink
from a cold stream with those floaty things
a puttering engine in the distance pulled me up for a look
when I do I see a fishing boat breaking the glass harbour
I become lost in the triangle wake of that trail the vessel leads behind
as its crew steams toward their living into the greying eve
while seagulls give chase for little company
it stretches a few seconds for me for some reason
captivates me, holds my breath, takes grip of my soul
until the lighthouse steals away the attention
enough to break my trance
in time to hear the voice of my grandmother who sings my name
through the hills
beckons my return from the adventures of my childhood
it won’t be long now, just cross the torn bush garden and the triangle stone
like I remember…one Saturday
Earth To Ash 