Happy Birthday to me

Let me preface this poem by saying that while I do appreciate the kind things my now family has done for my birthday, I don't really care for big deals made of it. My family of origin wasn't either. They were more interested in themselves and their other kids. So I'm not used to or  comfortable with being the center of attention, especially for a birthday which everyone has one a year. I do,  however, find it a good time to pause, bookmark and consider. 

Why is it some people make 

such a big deal of their day of birth

as if they had accomplished 

some huge feat of priceless worth?

Why do they act so arrogant 

and entitled to crowns worn

instead of just recognizing 

all they did was to be born?

There are probably a lot of reasons

some of arrogance and pride

while others over celebrate

because as kids they had to hide

But strangely the hidden ones

are the very ones who don't 

celebrate themselves at all

while those who should tone it down, won't  

There's something very telling 

about someone who celebrates themselves

with great gusto and expects others 

to behave like their helper elves

It says they see themselves 

as exalted and on a higher plane

it's quite awkward to behold 

when a person is so vain

It's even more difficult for

those of us not celebrated

to have to honor the proud

it reinforces just  how low we rated

we already expected to honor 

everyone else at our own expense 

especially the already too puffed up

it's such hypocritical nonsense

 

The way to heal as I see it

is to see us all as God sees 

The proud and haughty he casts down

and exalts the meek and lowlies

So for my birthday this year

I'm giving myself permission to be

done with catering to big heads

I'm working on little ole me

God bless the moon and God bless we

I love our earth moon

she shines with ambient light

her job is to guide us to sleep

with her quiet night bright

In daytime we need our star sun

Her energy and broad day light

but come the evening dusk

we need dear moon's twilight

I'm a child of dark light

being a lunar girl suits me

calming souls in darkness

is my true destiny

I'd rather be reflective 

I'm happy to immerse

I'm just a little satellite

not center of the universe

(thank God)

we each have a light that's true

we can choose to shine or not

but it comes from a higher power

folks forget that a lot 

We think we're the alpha and omega

on us God should attend

Like we're the.gods and goddesses

When this to Him out knees should bend

We let delusions blot our light

we get into mischief of all kinds

When we hog the glory and get

Too big in our own minds

when God is in charge

the source, power and light

when we stop blocking him

he gets the job done right

my grandad loved a song

about letting the lower lights burn

so sinking sailors can find hope 

when to that light they turn

God is the lighthouse 

he's the mighty Fresnel lens

But our job's to light the shore

so boats find happy ends

I'm working to keep my 

little birthday candle bright

It's better to start a spark

than curse the dark of night

The moon and me are pals

we each know our place

I'm happy to be the shadow

I'll let the sun light up space

Being a shadow is not bad

unless you're expected to be

just a reflection of other people 

or a piece of property

I'll be moon to God's son

all day and all night

but I'll be damned if let them

alevet again douse my fire light

So that's a contradiction

do I reflect or do I shine?

Well I think it's a bit of both

God's the big light and the little one's mine

Remember Stellaluna the bat?

her names explains the plight

Like her we all are

both moon and starlight

"Let the Lower Lights Be Burning" (Paul Phillip Bliss, sung by Tennessee Ernie Ford)

"I see the moon and the moon sees me" Meredith Wilson

Stellaluna Janell Cannon

I've been to the mountains in a place with no name

I've been to the mountains 

in a place with no name

with faceless, nameless people 

Alone with all my pain

Left behind and out by parents

from wherever it was that they went

a scared little six year old

her mind all busted and bent 

no one said where they went or why

not my known names and faces 

nor unknowns on whom I was dumped

left with strangers in strange places 

they just left without me

without even waving goodbye

in a hurry to be gone

I literally wanted to die

They did this quite often

as I now adult recall

The first time was the worst

I really hit a stone wall

In a place called "camp" 

1000s of miles from home

with no ones and nothings

no number or people to phone

How would I survive

What I'd eat, how I'd sleep or where

that was not their concern

I didn't have anything to wear

no answers were given 

knowing nothing but fright

Didn't even know what to ask 

in the darkest dark night

like nightmares only real

the OG free range kid

who would help I knew not

mostly I just cried and hid

I had a bunk it turns out

But I wasn't to know

no one took time to explain

in their big rush to go

I was the youngest kid by far

The older kids knew what to do

I had no grown up to help

So I hadn't a clue

I have little memory of much

But a pile of logs in the cabin

I thought we could stand them in a circle

and all of us sing inside them 

then kids were buying candy 

from canteen they called it

but parents left me no money

when outta there they lit

a lady found me wandering

and asked why I was sad

I didn't know how to explain

I thought she was mad

Then she understood 

that I wanted candy too

she gave me a dime and a nickel

So I wouldn't be so blue

I don't remember parents 

just being left behind 

and I can't remember her face

just that the lady was kind

Later I was left again

I do remember that place name

the Island of Metlakatla

but the facelessness was the same

No one said why not ever

still haven't to this day

why it was so all fired important

for them to go away

Alaska was supposed to be 

a place to missionary

seems they forgot their first mission

was to poor little ole me 

I would have liked to help

I'd of been a good missionary

But since they didn't take me along

I assumed the problem was me

What terrible thing must I have done

to make them not love nor care

what kind of child is left alone

not knowing with whom, why or where?

Now he's dead so I can't ask

what the hell went wrong

And all she does is lie

and change the words to the song 

Looking back I see it was habit

the camp was not the first when

they abandoned their kid to her fate

it happened again and again

In fact it happened so often

it came as no surprise to me

when they showed up at all

was the biggest shock to see

Wandering alone was the usual 

with no adults to be found

from age four not knowing where

or even if they were around. 

Looking for Lady Serenity

To heal the pain in me

Easy does it does it best.

after years of hurry hurry

it's time for me to rest

But it's a struggle for me

to let hypervigilance go

to stop the all the catering

and go with my own flow

Years of abuse by narcissists

how I despise that word

their shaming and mocking

they're all so bloody absurd

cruel words and dirty deeds

going round in my head

like a record player still skipping

they don't even hush when they're dead

too lazy, selfish and disobedient

when I gave up my life for them all

oh and oversensitive to their "jokes"

how my childish breasts were too small

So now rest don't come easy 

it's difficult to ease my barmy brain

sleep only comes with nightmares

Which just perpetuate the old pain

Whatever this means, I'm trying

to let tranquility be my guide

the proverbial haystack needle

there's very little peace inside

Searching for Lady Serenity 

so my long-lost sister can lead

hoping that together we two

can plant fresh mind seed. 

If he was my dad instead of my husband

What if he was my dad

instead of my spouse? 

I would have had a home

not just lived in their house

I would have had a bedroom

and a cozy-soft warm bed

with pretty pink gingham sheets 

and a fluffy pillow for my head

He would have known and cared

what I was doing, where and when

not ignored and left me wandering alone

He would be a worried mother hen

If I was left unsupervised 

or let wander too far away

he'd be livid with those who did

and send them on their way

He'd watch and keep me near 

And if I went away

he wouldn't rest until

I was home to stay

He'd vet people with wary distrust

He'd ban creep, perv and lout

He'd protect me from weirdos

instead of seeking them out

We'd have tea parties 

with Raggedy Ann and Bear Bears

with popcorn and juice treats

we'd sit on tiny wobbly chairs

He'd cut hotdog pennies 

for my siblings and me 

with toothpick kebabs 

and baloney triangles for tea

He would have held me

proudly on his lap

he'd tuck me in at night

And always bless my nap

he'd have read me stories

and fallen asleep with me in his arms

He'd shield me against evil 

and any and all harms

He would patiently brush and comb 

my Lady Godiva brown hair

He'd have left it grow long

Not chopped it thread bare

he'd paint me piggy toes

with polish of poolside blue

he'd hoik me into my tights 

and kiss my knee booboo

He'd have made sure I knew

and that I'd never forget

I was loved and special

not something to regret

He wouldn't be perfect 

because no parent is

but I wouldn't care 

cuz I knew I was his

I would be wanted, treasured 

whatever I was would be fine

he'd love my imperfections 

even more because they were mine

The Sloop Jack D, my grandaddy and me

A 45's spinning round my head 

My father sang it to me

and now the record is skipping

that ole' Sloop John B

(I feel so done in, I wanna go home

why don't you let me go home, yayay

but I don't know the way)

there was a time long ago

my grandaddy, dog and me

around Michigan town we did roam

I miss you Sloop Jack D

but those crazy tunes only I hear

they all got into a fight

my Irish crying and drinking songs

kept me awake all night

So hoist up the Jack D sails

see how her mainsail sets

what a beautiful boat is she

this is as good as life gets

But captain my captain got drunk

broke into my memory trunk

he took away all my joy

left me with a bunch of junk

where was my grandaddy then?

when his loony son got the fits

when he ate up all my soul

and stole all of my wits?

Get outa my head damn songs

why don't you let me alone?

Can't you see I'm broke up

and I wanna go home

But the Jack D sails are torn

the home I had is gone

the mainsail she's done bust

This is the worst trip I've ever been on. 

Pink uffies and Pooh bears for broken hearts

My youngest daughter had a pink checked blanket called Pink Uffy (softy) that was a well-loved (to the point of threadbare) friend. The eldest Molly had Beeepee, an old soft cloth diaper, well washed don't judge. Also threadbare. She still has it in her Santa bear from Boppa S. Little Albert had a vintage Pooh Bear with a lopsided smile because half the stitching came off and a new nose provided by a friendly veterinarian. Jakey had a succession of Mr New FurFurs known also as new Durdur. 

My husband had Andy Panda and Bear Bear who sit chumily on our bookshelf now in their dotage, secure in the knowledge that they were loved. I did not have a cuddle toy or at least the ones I had somehow disappeared long before I was ready to part with them. In fact a lot, no wait all, of my possessions from childhood to young adulthood, disappeared. Either no one cared enough to keep them for me or maybe they were stolen and sold to buy toys for themselves or their other people.  Or given to "more deserving" kids? One way or the other, none of my things exist anymore except a doll my grandma saved for me. So when the violent, malevolent storms of dark tetrad parents hit, I had nothing to comfort me.

A day late and a dollar short, at 60,  I'm creating a playlist of pink uffys, Pooh Bears, Beepees and Mr. New FurFurs. Hopefully little Marilisa you will feel their belated comfort. All for you, sweetheart. Ain't nobody going to take these not no way not no how.

--Family to be for you but you never had. A loving husband, delightful children and their delightful spouses and partners, and a dozen (count them!) gorgeous baby grands. None of them would be there without you, sweet girl. 

--Annoying and adorable kitty boys and girls, many over the years. And a grand pup and kitten. 

--Enormous, king size gushy soft blankets. Let them wrap you in the love you never felt.

--A big cozy soft bed for sharing, this time by choice. To make up for all the couchsurfing. 

--A ramshackle blue House in need of a lot of repairs but overflowing with love. Let that shelter you and your out-in-the-cold, outside-looking-in houseless homeless memories. 

--Plenty. Of food, nourishment. No expense spared by the now people. No more empty fridges, no more food for others but not for you. You're a priority now. 

--Time. To sleep in. To lay around. No more harsh, demanding lazy people to serve. Now you work with people at your own pace on your own volition, not for them at their command. 

--Beloved books of childhood, shelves and shelves of them from ceiling to floor. All the old friends and more. 

--Toys rediscovered. Reunited, so to speak. Raggedy Ann and her Andy. Forest Friends. Music boxes. 

These can't fix the past. That hurt's there to stay, in a corner of your heart where no key can open. But the now is good enough for now. Would I trade a better then for a worse now? Not on  my life. But it would have been nice...