Loneliness,
sometimes finds me,
wraps it’s arms around me,
and tries to drag me into the darkness.
Depression
sometimes haunts me
late in the night
as I try to sleep.
It sweeps under my soul,
trying to pull me down.
So I go back home to the mountains,
to hang with the pack,
And run through the woods.
howling with my friends at the trees:
cause the mountains and trees
are really good listeners.
Siting on the porch
Of my sister’s house.
Miles Davis playing in the back ground.
While the crickets
Sing along.
My nephews and their friends
And ladies
Are talking inside.
It’s getting a little nippy outside.
Even through my leather coat.
as my sister vacuums her house
The little dog, named buzz,
who has more fur than body,
Runs around in a circle.
It’s kind of irritating,
But at least he’s not running around
Barking at me.
I always have to bribe him
With treats for about ten minutes
But in the end he leaves me along.
Well sort of,
He’ll come and look at me
As to say -if you don’t give me something,
I’m going to bark at you.
That’s when I give the wolf stare.
As in -that’s enough
You’re not going to blackmail me.
And of course that’s when he starts barking again.
We were dam builders,
my sister and I.
In the beginning,
We would build came with mud
To make our swimming holes
In the creeks that surrounded our farm
In the mountains.
We’d spend most of the day
Repairing the spots
Where the water’s broken through;
So that, when the sun
Began to go below the horizon,
Signalling the time
To go home and clean up,
We’d never had a chance to swim.
By the next afternoon,
When we’d finished our chores
Around the farm in the morning;
We’d run back the find out Dam gone,
Washed away during the night
By the water migrating to the ocean;
And we’d have to start all over again.
There forth,
We began building our came with stone.
To this day,
I still only build with
Rock, stone, brick, and concrete.
I find it hard
to understand it all.
Don’t think I haven’t tried.
I’ve gone through the books:
the histories, the myths,
the philosophies,
and the religions.
I’ve thumbed through it all
and there’s always more.
Differents Peoples,
Different Cultures.
Different ways to think.
Smyon-Pa 