There is one poem that I would give the world to see again. It was written for me when I was a wee teen. My dear, beloved friend, Virginia, wrote it for me. She was old enough to be my mother, and loved me like a daughter. She had my picture up on her mirror, where her own kid's pictures weren't hanging, even though she loved her childred to degrees that sometimes hurt her deeply. On her death bed, she requested a drawing I had done for her, but my own mother didn't bother to tell me until it was too late, or I would have re-drawn it from memory for her. Instead, mom gave her a painting she'd done of me, and every time they moved her hospice bed, they moved the painting so she could gaze at it easily. I loved that woman. She was a hurt, fragile, strong, completely giving woman. I sometimes wonder if she saw some of her young self in me, but I'll never know for sure. I know very little of her youth, except that it held some painful memories of the very rural hills of Kentucky.

The poem she wrote for me started with this:
"Bridle thy passions, sweet Kathleen, lest thou sinneth in thy fury"
That's all that I can remember, but I've written about it a thousand times in the years since then. How she saw the fires in me, despite my being so completely shy and silent as a kid, I'll never know. But then, those of us with that sort of thing in our hearts, can sometimes see it in someone's eyes with a glance. Sometimes, at least.

That phrase haunts me in a good way. I have thought of it again and again in many moments throughout the days of the years since then. Cancer stole her from me long, long, ago. But I'll hold onto those words for the rest of my life.

Most people didn't know how much we cared about eachother. After she died, people always came up to me and asked me if my mom was ok, since the two of them were close. They never knew to ask how I felt, and I couldn't have really answered all that well. Her husband knew, though. He gave me a pocket watch she gave to him on their anniversary. He said he knew she'd be overjoyed to know that it brought me happiness. I still have it. I take it out and look at it now and then. I imagined I'd give it to my husband, when I was older. But then, the love of men can be so temperamental and fleeting. The way she loved me can never fade, even this many years after she is gone.

Don't know why I hopped onto that thought... but it seemed worth sharing. If you want something more fun and less serious, try the links in the next post. :)

On thing to take with you, please, though. Love the ones in your life. You never know when you will lose them. Cancer at least gives you time to say things (though I was young and stupid and left some things unsaid that time), but you can lose anyone in a blink. Leave nothing unsaid. Leave nothing unapreciated. If someone truly touches your life, they are worth more than life itself, as cheesy as that may sound.

Darnit... now my mind hits another tangent. When I was in college and we were assigned to do a poster on a topic important to us, to move people (basically, a propaganda poster) my classmates did anti-war, pro-war, pro-life, pro-choice, pro-whatever and con-whatever images... all the "big" political subjects. I did a drawing (dark, in charcoal with bits of chalk) of a woman holding a child. I used a photo of myself with Tori (as a baby) for some reference. There's fabric wrapped around us, but no real clothing. Just two humans clinging to eachother in the darkness, with some hazy light on the horizon, and a siloutte of a tree against that light. (the tree was taken from an old belt-buckle that my tree-climbing father used to have).

Politics matter. All those other things do matter, but what good is obsessing over those things if we lose our humanity? Stay human. Give love to the ones you care for. Hold nothing back from eachother, because when you simmer the whole melting pot of life's garbage down, the people who touch you ARE your life.

Ok... soap box dismounted. :) Carry on.