PENNING MY GRIEF
FOR THE TRANSITIONING OF RICHARD WAGAMESE:
Strong person
Your Strength was fertilized with pain and with adversity
You empathized when you saw the souls trying not to break
Still seedlings, not yet ripe
There, in the eye of the storm, that optimal weather system for growth
You had endured hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis
Having searched for safety and sought shelter from the voices and the visions of the past,
Those storms you battled… to silence
Knocked down a time or two hundred
Got up two hundred and one
You hoped they could keep getting up
You hoped you could keep getting up
Strong person
Your ears were there to listen
Your heart did the hearing
“Tell your story,” you said
You plead
It needs telling
It needs hearing
You knew there was nothing you could do to lessen anyone’s burden
It is a solitary journey, a baptism of fire
Each of us must find our own way
It is a club whose membership fees are blood, sweat and tears
Strong person
I believe you were often unaware of your great strength
You did what you had to do to get to the other side of the pain
Some good coping skills and some bad
The harvest was bountiful, your sanity, your humanity
Your survival didn’t just change you
It changed every life you touched
Life and its brutality gifted you with some serious skills
You taught us not to believe everything you are told
Sometimes it is your own thoughts that you can’t believe
They are only a story someone else imprinted on your soul
Your struggle and your truth is what made you such a treasure in my life
And now your final gift to me:
Your deepest truth
The one others have tried to tell me and I failed to hear…
There may not be a tomorrow
Today my friend, do it today
I get it
I honour it
I was listening
I did hear
Your Truth
You
Today
Every Day here
IS
The DAY
I will live in this truth
Just as you lived and died in it
Let the story be told
Strong Person
© MELODY FOWLER March 11, 2017
FOR THE TRANSITIONING OF RICHARD WAGAMESE:
Strong person
Your Strength was fertilized with pain and with adversity
You empathized when you saw the souls trying not to break
Still seedlings, not yet ripe
There, in the eye of the storm, that optimal weather system for growth
You had endured hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis
Having searched for safety and sought shelter from the voices and the visions of the past,
Those storms you battled… to silence
Knocked down a time or two hundred
Got up two hundred and one
You hoped they could keep getting up
You hoped you could keep getting up
Strong person
Your ears were there to listen
Your heart did the hearing
“Tell your story,” you said
You plead
It needs telling
It needs hearing
You knew there was nothing you could do to lessen anyone’s burden
It is a solitary journey, a baptism of fire
Each of us must find our own way
It is a club whose membership fees are blood, sweat and tears
Strong person
I believe you were often unaware of your great strength
You did what you had to do to get to the other side of the pain
Some good coping skills and some bad
The harvest was bountiful, your sanity, your humanity
Your survival didn’t just change you
It changed every life you touched
Life and its brutality gifted you with some serious skills
You taught us not to believe everything you are told
Sometimes it is your own thoughts that you can’t believe
They are only a story someone else imprinted on your soul
Your struggle and your truth is what made you such a treasure in my life
And now your final gift to me:
Your deepest truth
The one others have tried to tell me and I failed to hear…
There may not be a tomorrow
Today my friend, do it today
I get it
I honour it
I was listening
I did hear
Your Truth
You
Today
Every Day here
IS
The DAY
I will live in this truth
Just as you lived and died in it
Let the story be told
Strong Person
© MELODY FOWLER March 11, 2017
FOR RHIANNA:
IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK
Seduced by it
The lights, the riches,
surrounded by silicon bitches
Eaten by it
My trust, my faith, my soul
Left empty by it
Deconstructed, reconstructed;
Like I am made of paper
Ripped apart, piece by piece
by crows
Then glued together;
The jagged ripped edges
invisible to the world
What your eyes can't see my heart feels
When the dream becomes
a nightmare
I don't answer to my name
Does anyone remember Robyn?
She feels like a distant memory
They told me
They warned me
I have to remind myself
I wanted it
FAME
It's not what you think
© MELODY FOWLER July 2009
TO MY CHILDREN
I have not carried a child in my womb.
I have not struggled in labour to push out new life.
Make no mistake though I am a mother.
My children did not grow cell by cell from sperm and ova.
Their journey was a different one.
Their very essence guided them to me.
They heard a sound inaudible to others.
Beat by beat my heart guided them to me, and then,
each of them was born within it.
Sharing genes only determines biology.
Love is what connects us.
The women that birthed them may have hurt them.
The women that left them may have scarred them.
I am here to help them heal, arms and heart wide open.
These beings, their wounds deep and unresolved,
find comfort in this family born of choice and no blood at all.
Not kin, but kindred.
Tenderly I hold each memory like a newborn baby,
and send a silent prayer of gratitude to the women that sent my children to me.
No, I am not the one that gave them life.
I am the one that gives them love,
Make no mistake I am their mother.
© MELODY FOWLER February 1, 2012
Especially for my Brandon and my Arrica
IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK
Seduced by it
The lights, the riches,
surrounded by silicon bitches
Eaten by it
My trust, my faith, my soul
Left empty by it
Deconstructed, reconstructed;
Like I am made of paper
Ripped apart, piece by piece
by crows
Then glued together;
The jagged ripped edges
invisible to the world
What your eyes can't see my heart feels
When the dream becomes
a nightmare
I don't answer to my name
Does anyone remember Robyn?
She feels like a distant memory
They told me
They warned me
I have to remind myself
I wanted it
FAME
It's not what you think
© MELODY FOWLER July 2009
TO MY CHILDREN
I have not carried a child in my womb.
I have not struggled in labour to push out new life.
Make no mistake though I am a mother.
My children did not grow cell by cell from sperm and ova.
Their journey was a different one.
Their very essence guided them to me.
They heard a sound inaudible to others.
Beat by beat my heart guided them to me, and then,
each of them was born within it.
Sharing genes only determines biology.
Love is what connects us.
The women that birthed them may have hurt them.
The women that left them may have scarred them.
I am here to help them heal, arms and heart wide open.
These beings, their wounds deep and unresolved,
find comfort in this family born of choice and no blood at all.
Not kin, but kindred.
Tenderly I hold each memory like a newborn baby,
and send a silent prayer of gratitude to the women that sent my children to me.
No, I am not the one that gave them life.
I am the one that gives them love,
Make no mistake I am their mother.
© MELODY FOWLER February 1, 2012
Especially for my Brandon and my Arrica
