My blog, which started out to be about overcoming grief, quickly grew into a blog about celebrating life. I post daily: poems, photographs, essays or stories. I've lived in countries all around the globe but have finally come to rest in Mexico, where I've lived since 2001. My books may be found on Amazon in Kindle and print format, my art in local Ajijic galleries. Hope to see you at my blog.
The spectre of your memory haunts me less with every year. Those things I feared so long ago, I no longer fear. I do not flinch in public when I think I see your face. No resemblance flags my terror as I wander place to place. To reinforce my courage, I have wiped you from my mind, changed my modus operandi to avoid your type and kind. Although you haunt my past, you have no presence in the present, where I admit your absence is what makes my life so pleasant.
They know this river, know it well. Daily, they bring their fruit to sell. We, who find the river strange reach out our bills as we lack change, for what they’ve brought to us from shore. They hand out more and more and more to strangers whom they must find dense to give them such great recompense for what God has amply provided. All their village has derided those who float by in big boats, holding out their ten sol notes that would buy every bunch they carry. They wonder why we do not tarry for our change after we pay. Silent, they watch us float away. The baby held in mother’s arms does not know what nearby harms lurk beneath the water’s cloak— the jaws that snap, the water’s soak. But we know what small guarantee exists in lives of poverty. Rubbed raw, perhaps, by all we have, our generosity is salve.