I missed my only brother's wedding. I was big and round and wouldn't have fit on an airplane. But I was very sad about missing my only brother's wedding. So when I knew that I would miss my only brother's wedding, I took a trip home to my letter box. I drove 2 and a half hours to my childhood home to find letters that my only brother sent me when I was in college. I saved them like beer coasters from our trip to Europe. I cherished them like love letters from my early boyfriends. And luckily they weren't mixed in with the box of love letters I burned from my 'later' boyfriends.
Well, I gathered these tattered treasures up and hauled them 2 and a half hours back home. I studied them. I read them out loud. I took notes. I wrote down words, phrases. I rearranged those words, I rearranged those phrases and I stole ideas. And I came up with a poem....in his words, from his words, rearranged by me.
And then I sat my fat ass right by the pond. And Paul Bunyan sat next to me. And I put a video camera on a tripod and I tried to read those words into a camera without crying. And I did it. And then I had that video put onto a DVD and I sent it out to Bend, Oregon with my parents. And I think my brother read it. His own words, rearranged.
Well, on the day of his wedding my lilies bloomed. It was a gorgeous sun shiny day. And he called me when they were done, and all was signed and official. And then I missed my dance with him. And then he missed his dance with me. But that's okay, because I was a fat pig and I would have two boys ripped out of me three weeks later that looked just like him (more about that tomorrow).
But Chris and Carey, happy love on this, your 5th, anniversary. Happy Love Always.
Chris and Carey were together when Paul Bunyan and I got married 11 years ago. They went their separate ways right after our wedding but found each other again...thankfully. This poem speaks to that finding.
You are my Goodness
When there were no roads in sight
Just miles and miles of jagged peaks-
And forested valleys,
Lay off in a distant territory-
Some unchartered far-reaching place.
We danced to a kind of weighted music then,
Which hung over our heads- as if the constellations
Were not aligned correctly and left their spaces to find solace
Under this, our, atmosphere.
I was a helpless child,
Robbed of speech, the language
To explain my desperate loss,
My loneliness, that your
Harrowing Vacancy left behind.
I slumbered through that winter
And maybe a few springs too, until
I heard a whisper,
And saw (somehow always) a glimpse,
A picture of you.
I came to your door,
Bearing in my arms
The parts of my self that were left,
Like some wanderer offering up what
Little hope I had for warmth.
You rose up out of my picture of you,
Became, in essence, that Serenity
which puts my quiet pain, my travelings,
And unease to rest.
We've reached that space, that place with
Sand so white and soft it squeaks when we walk on it.
And when the sun rises on you,
I am taken with the realization that
You are my grace
You are my gentleness
You are, gratefully, my goodness.