December’s Cruelty

December has claimed
yet another casualty
I drop quickly
to my callused knees
praying for release from
this cruelty

I turn
of course
to my beloved
a safe comfort
envelopes me

yet surrounded
by common

Here in This Place
is the preferred currency
Here in This Place
I find Peace

thus calming

December’s cruelty





The Greatest Gift

Recently I had the honor of watching my dearest friend pass away.

I realize that most would not consider this an honor but rather morbid and awful.  Yet, as often as I have re-played her last words, last breath, and last moments in my mind, I am grateful that I was lucky enough to be with her during those moments.  I don’t think I could accept her death had I not been a witness.

You see, she had been ill for some time, one day short of a month to be exact, but was on the upswing.  She was going to be released from the hospital in a few days, either into a rehab center or home (where I would stay with her), having home healthcare coming in for rehabilitation.  We had spent most of the day discussing plans for her release from “captivity”, right down to the first meal she wanted when she came home.  This might not sound so exciting from a reading standpoint, but just three weeks prior she had been in a coma, and two weeks prior she still could not breathe on her own, so sitting here talking about getting out was a huge deal.

For myself, I was exhausted.  I had spent everyday for the last 29 days going between work and the hospital.  This day was a good day filled with good news and I expected to finally be able to sleep the entire night through.  I was wrong.  Ruth’s heart unexpectedly failed that evening, just as I was preparing to leave for the night.  She had made it quite clear that she did not want to be put back on life support should it come to that again.  So here, in front of me I witnessed a DNR request honored as my dearest friend’s heart stopped for the fourth time in a less than a month.  This time the line on the monitor did not go back up, this time it stayed flat.  This time the “crash cart” left the room as the team called time of death.  This time was the last time.

I sat on the cold floor of the hospital hallway.  Ruth’s favorite nurse came and gave me a hug (his shift was just ending when she coded and he ran into her room), he asked how I was, I said “pissed right the fuck off” and he told me that was o.k., and then I cried, he hugged me harder and asked if there was anything he could do, “no, not anymore, thank you”.  So many others came and hugged me and asked me the same.  Then the hospital clergy came over and talked with me “here are parking passes, how many will you need?  How many will be coming?”, holy shit I thought, I need to call people and tell them!!!

I felt bad and sad for those people who I had to notify.  My grief quickly pushed aside as I took to the business at hand and I became the consoler and comforter.  This is when I truly realized what an honor it was for me to be a witness to her passing.  I got the last moments with her, I have the very last memory of her, it is mine, and I am so blessed and honored to carry that gift.


**Ruth passed away Sept 26, 2015.  She was my closest & dearest friend.  I am still struggling with her death on many levels, and intend to miss her every day.  My writing here on WP has taken a blow during her illness, hospital stay and untimely passing, I have lost my spark and social flair, I don’t know if either of those will ever recover, but I hope so as I miss you all so much.

Much Love,








To Drift Away

I’ve been spending far too much time in hospitals and various medical buildings during the last three months.  I’ve learned more than I have ever, ever wanted to know about the process of keeping the body alive and functioning.  I am quiet certain that I have been privy to more test results than any one lay person needs to be.

I am neither awed by modern medicine nor am I frightened by death.  I simply am.

It is my wish, whether it be tomorrow or 50 years from now, to never have a test run to find out what is “wrong” with me.  I wish to sit silently with only the sound soft waves lapping at my feet, a pen and notebook resting on my lap (I think I will add a DNR to all my notebooks.)  I want to just drift away in peace, without the tubes and machines.

I Dance with Depression

I dance with depression
a slow sorrowful waltz
dips and twirls
that fade in and out

It’s not glamorous
the dresses have no frills
there are no vivid colors
disco balls or thrills

I don’t know when my partner
will show to take
me by my hand
I’d like to tell him no
but the choice isn’t mine


He pulls me to the floor
before the music starts
the dancing begins
as my self-preservation

Thoughts of death and suicide
slowly infect my mind
I don’t want it to happen
but it does
from time to time

You see
I dance with depression
I try to tell him no
but he drags me to floor
and it’s happening more
and more

It Was Getting Late

*Trigger Warning*


She downed the handful of pills,

answered the phone

Yes, thank you for calling

No, I’m not alone

She watched the water fill the tub

as her friend commended her strength

She told her “Goodbye”

you see, it was getting late

She slipped into the warm water

the blade tore into her wrist

As her strength oozed from her veins

she doubted she’d be missed

The Night


The night is long and lonely

my dreams do little to comfort me

my mind my constant enemy

battling truth and fantasy

Dawn breaks and so do I

letting tears flow from my eyes

my strength is weakened, I cry

I pray to God, please let me die



She sees clearly through the fog that is her mind

Knowing she cannot chase time

She brakes, stops this carnival ride

She will no longer bear witness to this crime

Slitting her wrists with her eyes

She watches herself bleed out dry

Her last act of love, her sacrifice

The Haunting of Me (part 103)

He doesn’t even wait for me to sleep
he sneers as he wonders why I breathe
his wish is for me to die
well perhaps that is a lie

He just wants me to suffer
as he glares, snarls, and hovers
as he pushes me just to the edge
and wills me to jump from the ledge

As he takes from me all that I love
anything that means so much
he cages me and clips my wings
assuring I will do no flying

Coaxing me to jump to my death
waits in the shadows with bated breath
he used to haunt only my dreams
now he haunts my reality

Evil comes in many forms
I must run now…

evil is knocking
at my door

My Grandmother’s Bible – an introduction

When my Grandmother passed on, the family went about the usual business of dividing up what little belongings she had left, all the household items had been gone through years before when she moved into the retirement home.  I remember sitting there as everyone looked through her items and asked for different things and gave their reasons why, I kept quiet, I didn’t want anything.  Then my sister pulled Grandma’s Bible from the box and started to set it aside for the trash pile, it is well-worn and full of notes, and book marks.  I stood up and walked across the room, picked up the Bible and said “this, this is all I’d like, thank you” and sat back down.

You see, my Grandmother was a wise women.  Kind, gentle, open-hearted, soft-spoken, beautiful (the kind of beautiful that a blind man can see), my Grandmother was the kind of women that I want to be.  And somehow I knew that somewhere within those notes, book marks, yellow tape, red marked pages, newspaper clippings and everything else she had shoved inside that worn out Bible I’d find the key to my Grandmother’s wisdom.

That was five years ago.  And I know for sure that the women that I have become in the last five years is a women my Grandmother would be proud of.  I’d like to share some of the clippings and notes from her Bible with all of you, it’s just good stuff a wise women had kept over the years… I’ll be sharing these in parts.

Taped inside of page three – a little poem –

We cannot change yesterday,

that is quite clear

Nor begin on tomorrow until it is here –

So all that is left for you and for me

Is to make today as sweet as can be.

Not My Time To Die


I lay in the murky cold dirt
waiting for death to come,
but it won’t! I just lay here
looking dumb.

It seems, since death
wants no part of me
I shall stay with the living,
so living, I shall be.

Fighting my way back
to those who shine a light,
to those who have lowered a rope
and continue to hold it tight.

Fighting my way back
to travel roads and lean on fences,
while at the other end of my thread
someone waits for me to come to my senses.

Fighting my way back
because it’s not my time to die.
I know this to be true,
because I laid down and I tried.



How much does a person 
have to die
before they can be 
really alive?
I don't know? 
But I'm still bleeding
so at dying
I am not succeeding
Am I alive? 
depends who you ask
most would say 
I'm just wearing a mask
but you will never know 
how hard I've tried
and you'll never know 
how much I have cried
because I have failed 
myself and you
because I have been unable 
to follow through
you have been wonderful and kind 
with me
and I am sorry for what 
I cannot be



I can’t believe you are gone!

they told me you passed away

and even though it’s been years

I feel like we spoke the other day

and now they tell me you are gone

no more time to reminisce

to catch up

on the times we’ve missed

they said you died in you sleep

is that supposed to comfort me

to somehow

put me at ease

somehow make me


I have wasted time

on so many regrets


clear my mind

so that I can

sleep tonight

no my friend

my mind won’t concede

my heart will not believe

that you will never be with me