Dad was working in a lab during the day but when he found out mom was pregnant he got a second job driving a forklift in a local warehouse on the night shift.

He was half-asleep watching Claire and I play. I cradled my baby doll, Rachel. Claire arranged furniture in lawyer Barbie's Penthouse playhouse. I remember Claire looking at me fiercely. “Baby dolls are dumb. Baby dolls are for babies. Real grown-ups are like Barbie.” She would shake her head as she spoke with matter of fact authority.

Her words cut me to the bone. I immediately burst into tears. “Claire, be nice to your sister.” Dad grumbled from his Lay-Z-boy.

I ran to the kitchen, there was Mom, sundress, pearl earrings, and lipstick. “Mooooom!” I wailed, “Claire said I’m a baby! She said I’ll never be big like Barbie.” I was hyperventilating and snot was running down my face. Mom knelt beside me, wiped my years. “Oh honey, you’re momma’s big girl. Don’t worry one day you’ll be all grown up, just like Barbie, you and Claire both.”

………………………………………………………………………………………

“Wow Anna double majoring in Sociology & Political Science, like if you could be less of a nerd, I could have hired you. We are expanding our social media and marketing wing right now. Can you believe I have 15 employees now? I’m planning to increase revenue by 200% and expanding staff to 25 by quarter three of next year.”

“That’s great Claire.” I can still feel my eyes roll from that moment. Mom saw me and snorted as she smirked. “Claire” Mom would always start our corrections with an almost singing of our names. “Can you remember why we are here today?”

“To celebrate our brainiac Anna!’ Dad was so proud of me his whole body had turned into a smile. “And she’s already accepted into grad school. I’m such a lucky Dad, look at our kids Ma.” I don’t remember ever hearing Dad call Mom by her first name.

“Grad school?” *Pssh* “More like debt slavery. Why don’t you start making money like us real adults?” That’s all Michael ever talked about… Making money and spending money. “Check out how delicious this $250 bottle of Hibiki I picked up in Manhattan is Dad.” Michael worked on Wall Street in acquisitions. Dad almost choked when he drank Michael's whiskey. “Geeze-US Michael, this is a graduation party not an Irish wake! Ma will you pass me another miller? Good God, I need to settle my stomach.”

“Here you go honey.” Mom turned her attention to Michael. “You see Michael, Anna is trying to make a difference, she wants to make the world a better place…. Help people.” She almost had tears in her eyes. “Oh come here sweetie.” Her kiss left lipstick on my cheek. She wet her finger on her tongue and rubbed off the evidence with her salivated finger.

………………………………………………………………………………………

I still have the screen shots saved… Look:

Me: His name is Eric.

Me: He’s the most caring, kind man I’ve ever met!

Mom: That’s wonderful news dear! Does he go to school with you?

Me: Yes!

Me: But he’s getting his Masters in environmental policy.

Me: He cares about nature so much 😍.

Me: We went on a hike yesterday. The sunset was soooo romantic.

Me: *Attached Photo*

Mom: ♥️

I really did try to save what mattered.

………………………………………………………………………………………

“Johnathan stop waving at the guest. The photographer is trying to take pictures of us!” Claire said with a frozen smile. “We are going to use these in our promotion for our next product launch.” Claire always focused on her business. That’s why she’s being celebrated now…. She was like an relentless Alexander trying to conquer the world. The only difference is the world loved her for it. I loved her for it. She was my big sister. Her presence was fuel, not always the cleanest burning but it always worked. When my muscles were giving out in the gym, when I was about to pass out while writing my thesis, I could think of Claire and just the thought of her would give me a jolt of energy.

Mom and Dad were beaming. Mom was starting to seem tired though I remember her telling me “I’m going to stop dying my hair after this… I just can’t keep it up Anna Bannan, I’m 56 who do I still have to impress? You’re Father?!” She snorted, her classic Mom snort… “I almost came here grey but Claire just about had a conniption.”

“Of course she did, Mom, didn’t you hear we are promoting the next product launch!” I replied.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Poindexter! You think I’m going to use images of the woman who gave up, to empower young women. No offense Mom.”

“None taken. How could I? I’ve given up apparently.” She revealed her gummy smile as she threw her hands in the air.

“God I miss her smile. I don’t think I ever smiled as big as Mom did.”

“Ms. Anna, you are crying, do you need tissues or tea?”

“No thank you, just someone to listen.”

“I can do that.”

We had a great time at Claire and Johnathan’s wedding. Claire knew how to put on a show, there’s no doubt about it. Aunt Sally came up to Eric and I as Claire and Johnathan shared their first dance.

“I hope this is just the first wedding, can we be expecting yours next year?” I remember my chest tightening at the thought of next year when she asked. Eric was so good about sensing my anxiety…. He rubbed my back and answered for us.

“Aunt Sally, it’s so good to see you. Anna and I have been talking about it but as I’m finishing my dissertation right now and Anna is starting up with a new NGO serving women in crises, it’s really not the ideal time.”

“It’s true Auntie Sal. And besides, what’s the rush? We're only 28.”

“By the time your mother was 28 you had already been born sweet-heart.” There was sweetness and concern in her voice, I only heard judgement and condemnation though.

“The times they are a changin’” I said in my best Bob Dylan impression “and besides Mom never even got to use her degree!”

“That’s our little goofball, huh Aunt Sally. Don’t worry we’ll throw one of these shin-digs soon and you’ll be at the top of our guest list.” Eric had the most mesmerizing smile.

“Oh, he is charming, Anna.” Aunt Sally pushed me gently.

“Would all the couples please join our newlyweds on the dance floor?” The DJ announced as he transitioned the song.

“Let’s dance in style, let’s dance for a while,

Heaven can wait we’re only watching the skies

Hoping for the best but expecting the worst

Are you gonna drop the bomb or not.”

Claire was doing a retro 80’s line so the playlist was all 80’s music. It was an amazing night even though Michael got so drunk he threw up all over one of Claire’s photographers. Dad was livid. Eric did the best impression; he milked it for years. Whenever he did it I would always follow it with a “Geez-us Michael.”

………………………………………………………………………………………

Connor was our first sweetie. I remember the day we adopted him. We had been feeling the pull for a kid for a couple years. Now that we felt stable in our careers Eric popped the question and the wedding was around the corner. We spent so much time thinking, going to others for advice, discussing every detail. We really wanted to make sure we were going to do it right. That we wouldn’t screw up, or screw up Connor. We hashed out every detail, what he would eat, where he would sleep, how to break the news to Mom and Dad, we wanted everything to be perfect for our little being.

Eric felt really confident. That meant everything to me. He was always such a rock. We talked to a number of friends who suggested different boutique breeders. But my stomach always churned at the idea of accidentally supporting a puppy mill. We wanted to do the right thing. We didn’t want love to be easy, we knew family wasn't always going to be easy. So we went down to the local SPCA.

There were so many dogs there. A lot of older dogs, too many pitbulls, mutts of all kinds. I made eye contact with a husky who had ice blue eyes. She was gorgeous, but as soon as Eric got close she started to growl and bark, that’s when the SPCA volunteer told us about Roxy’s history with men.
The volunteer really tried to get us to take a pitbull home, “they really aren’t bad dogs it’s just people mishandle them, make them fight, and people are just filled with prejudice, like all pitbulls are killers or Cujo or something.” That’s when Eric reminded her and me that we live in a two bedroom apartment and this would be both of ours first dog. “We probably need something lap sized,” Eric recommended.

That’s when I heard him, he wasn’t barking, growling, or whining. He was wheezing. It was the cutest sound I had ever heard. I turned around and saw a chocolate, and white painted beagle chihuahua mix. He had a tiny little chihuahua head and big floppy ears. I dropped to my knees with tears in my eyes “Eric, he's perfect.” The volunteer didn’t even wait for Eric to respond, she just walked away saying “I’ll go get the paperwork.”

………………………………………………………………………………………

“What happened Michael? Sure you never grew out of college drinking but… I thought it was because you haven’t settled down.” Mom was shaking her head, not really talking to him. Dad just stood in the corner against the wall. His eyes closed and head tilted up to the sky.

“Don’t worry Mom, this is a great treatment center, my boss sent a relative here. They’ve been sober for two years.” Eric didn’t hesitate to call Mom Mom. His parents were gone, he didn’t have siblings so my family was his.

Michael sat there in his white robe, blank expression on his face staring at the ground about 20 feet from us. Claire was off in Dubai, or Rome, or something we couldn’t keep track of her. We were as clued into her as Instagram allowed us to be.

“Michael… why don’t you give up that job, move back to the neighborhood, and settle with a nice girl? I heard Jennifer Mossley got divorced, her mother says she’s ready to put herself back out there.” Michael actually made eye contact with Mom and she lit up. He gave her a look of confused teary eyed disgust and silently shook his head before looking at the ground again. Mom, in trying to fight back the grief, contorted her face in pain. “I have to go to the bathroom.” Her voice cracking as she walked away.

“This is a great treatment center,” Eric repeated quietly to himself.

I turned to look at my father. He was in the same position, the side of his jaw wet with tears.

………………………………………………………………………………………

Dad died of a heart attack but I knew it was a broken heart. Michael stayed sober for only about two months after treatment then he caught a DUI. Meanwhile, Claire had divorced Johnathan. Dad was so ashamed. I remember about a month before he died Eric and I visited and we took Conner with us. Dad really liked Conner, said he was a great pup despite the fact that the hairs around his nose were greying.

I knew something was up when Dad had pulled out one of Michael’s old footballs. “Oh my God Dad you still have that?” I asked him.

“I kept a lot of your toys, army men, baseballs, barbies, little Rachel.” My stomach sank.

“You still have Rachel?”

“Of course sweet heart, I wasn’t gonna get rid of your first baby. But I wanted to play with this here pup, since there’s no grandbabies yet.”

The yet was added on as an afterthought as if not to offend me, or give himself hope. I don’t know. But he threw the football to Conner even though it was bigger than his head. Dad smiled weakly.

“I don’t understand what’s happening in the world, Anna Banana. I know Clarie said things with Johnathan had become ‘toxic’ but why is divorce an achievement all of sudden. I mean Geeze-us here divorce party was even bigger than her wedding. Did you and Eric go?”

“Nah Poppa, we thought it might be bad juju.”

He tussled my hair as I smirked “Atta girl, I could always count on you to hold onto common sense.” He drew me in close, giving me the biggest hug in years. He rested his chin on my head, I felt like I was thirteen years old again. “I love you so much kiddo.”

“I love you too, Dad.” I replied. He already knew, I just thought he was being sentimental.

Mom woke up next to him dead a month later. She said the neighbors heard her scream, they were the ones who called the ambulance.

We had to move her out of the house. It was too much for her. Claire Michael and I cleaned out the house. That’s when I found Rachel, covered in dust, in the attic. I took her home with me.

………………………………………………………………………………………

Losing Dad changed everything. I couldn’t wait any longer. Eric and I started trying to have kids but we were already in our 40’s when we weren’t succeeding we went to the fertility clinic.

We were told the risks, probabilities, and process for IVF. “Whatever it takes, Doctor Maxwell! I’m just so excited to finally start our family.”

“What about Conner?” Eric accusatively teased.

“You know what I mean.” I responded with an eye roll.

Doctor Maxwell looked on with care in her eyes but also trying to get us back on track. “This will be difficult ma’am at your age miscarriage is typically a part of the process for women your age.”

“Yes I understand.” I thought because I read the words I knew what they meant. Like it was just another test in college, or writing out another piece of policy. I lost the first one early in the process, around week 6. There’s no way a pamphlet could prepare a person for that amount of grief. We had been so excited when we found I was pregnant and then to have the baby taken away so quickly, it felt like the Universe was playing a cruel trick.

“We could get a donor egg sweetheart.” Eric was trying to be supportive.

“Why, because I’m broken!” I accused him.

It was the last time he ever mentioned it.

………………………………………………………………………………………

Jonathan showed up to Michael’s funeral. It was the first time any of us had seen him since before the divorce. He gave Mom the biggest hug. “My condolences Mom.”

Eric shifted uncomfortably next to me. Claire hadn’t shown up. She said “it was too late anyway.” But she released a new product line where 10 percent of the proceeds went to addiction treatment and recovery. She was hailed online for being so compassionate and understanding.

Mom never looked so little. Her shoulder blades looked like angel wings sticking out of her back, you couldn’t see her head it hung so low. “My baby boy… my baby boy is gone.” It’s all she could say.

She wasn’t snorting, or smiling, she was stuck in a loop of grief she couldn’t process. Aunt Sally sat next to her; she must have been close to 90. A few of my cousins were there, a couple people from Michael’s working days, an old man who had tried to sponsor Michael. He gave the eulogy for who knows what reason.

He just got on his soapbox about how the disease of alcoholism is a killer, that Michael’s only shot was getting honest and turning to God. No one had the power or strength to tell the man this wasn’t his personal AA meeting. None of the counselors or therapists ever said Michael needed God. But then again none of them showed up to Michael’s funeral.

I don’t know why we had an open casket. Mom saw Michael lying there and completely lost it. “MY BABY BOOOOOOY!” She shook her head, like one of those Jewish men with the hats praying in New York City. Eric escorted me out as Mom collapsed on the floor. I could hear her wailing as my vision blurred from the tears. I saw her tearing at her chest and clothes. A couple of my cousins went to pick her up. Aunt Sally murmured to herself “Oh honey, please stop, oh dear.”

“Eric, stop! I need to help my mom.”

“No. You need to protect yourself and the baby.” It was the first time Eric ever stopped me from going to my mom.

“Michael is dead! And my mom is falling apart. I’m fine so the baby will be fine. Let me go!” I ripped his hand off of my arm. He shrugged his shoulders in disbelief. “Someone please close the casket,” I pleaded.

“NO NO NO!” My mom screamed, “Michael’s sleeping, don't trap my baby in there! He’s afraid of the dark. No, no, no.” I went to hug my mom when I locked eyes with the old man from AA. His stare was steel and he just shook his head.

He spoke so loud his voice reverberated through the funeral chapel “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.” Mom froze, except for her sniffles and hyperventilated breathing. He shouted again. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.” He repeated it over and over again until we were all saying it.

Eric and my male cousins closed up the casket and carried it to the cremation furnace. My eyes closed, like she was avoiding looking at a monster, repeated “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.” As the men walked out with Michael’s body.

I approached Mom and Aunt Sally with water bottles for them. Mom was starting to stabilize. “Look at my Anna Banana, she’s glowing, huh Sal?” I placed my hands on my baby bump and smiled weakly for the first time in a week. “That’s a good girl.” Was all Aunty Sally could say as she looked through me.

………………………………………………………………………………………

Three weeks after Michael died I was rushed to the hospital. I was bleeding. I was in my second trimester. I had to call the ambulance Eric was at work. He rushed over and arrived when the ambulance did.

“We have to get her into surgery and work quickly. She's losing a lot of blood, she’s getting clammy and going in and out of consciousness, do we have your consent to operate?” The surgeon asked Eric.

“What about the baby?”

“We will try our best. We have to act now sir.”

“Yes… okay. Do it! Hurry up!”

It was the worst pain I ever felt, my inside felt like they were on fire. My heart was racing, I thought I would explode. I could hear her crying, inside of my belly, inside of my mind. She was so upset, she was kicking, and screaming I swear… She wasn’t ready for this. “My baby, my baby was all I could say.”

“Anna we need you to count backwards from ten.” said an attendant as she put the aesthetic mask over my mouth.

“My baby, my baby” was the only way I knew how to count. Then everything went black.

………………………………………………………………………………………

I didn’t eat for days when I came home. Work encouraged me to stay home but I told them that would drive me crazier faster. But after I collapsed by lunch they forced me on medical week for a leave.

I couldn’t do anything… eat, sleep, watch TV. Mom came by with cookies and flowers. She tried to empathize, told me how much she understood, talked about Dad, Michael, Claire….

I hadn’t told Claire, I didn’t need her to know I failed in this way too. I finally whispered something to my mom “Please don’t tell Aunt Sally. I don’t want her to stress out, she’s so old.”

“I won’t sweetheart.” Mom zipped up her lips and locked it with a key. She really thought her little mime humor would perk me up. I just pulled the covers over me and flipped my body away.

Mom stayed for dinner, Eric had picked up Chinese food. I looked into the egg drop soup. All the floating particles of the egg infuriated me. I picked up the bowl and flung it across the room, it splattered all over the kitchen cabinets.

Mom screamed as Eric looked at my wide eyed. “You don’t fucking think do you Eric?? You don’t have enough sense to think maybe a woman who just lost her baby doesn’t want to see an egg shredded up in a bowl of boiling water! Seriously, are you retarded!?”

“Anna!” Mom came to Eric's defense. He just dropped his head.

“What Mom!? I can’t have a fight with my husband. Am I not a grown up yet?? God forbid Anna should get angry. God forbid you stupid perfect fucking daughter should loose her cool!” I stood up grabbing the rest of the soup. With all of my force I threw onto the ground. The styrofoam broke apart as the liquid burnt my feet.

“Fuck me!” I jumped up and grabbed a towel. “Thanks Eric! Thanks for taking care of me! I just burnt my feet and all you can do is sit there?!”

Mom stood up suddenly and moved to the couch, where she collapsed with her face down. Eric was still frozen.

I was struggling to stay coherent, as wails, and maniacal laughs broke through my speech. “We can wait! Maaa! I need to use my degree. HA! I need to slave away over a computer screen help people hahaha and I couldn’t even fucking help myself!” My arms were wailing and flaying as I slid on the hardwood floors like Bloody Mary.

The fluorescent lights buzzed. I caught sight of Rachel, she was sitting in the nursery we were preparing.

“I’m so dumb. I’m SO dumb! Why were we even making a nursery?? IVF??? I’m fucking 45! I should have had a kid when Aunt Sally told me too.” The rooba powered up and started sweeping. “No! I live in the future, I need to save the world! I can have kids whenever I want to!”

“Anna please stop!” Mom lifted her head from the couch. There was snot spread all over her, the pillow was a wet sticky mess.

Eric, still looking at the egg still on the ground, whispered, “maybe we can try again.”

“WE?!?!” I was incredulous. As I screamed inches from his ear. He didn’t even flinch. My face sticking out as I held hands in shaking fists by my hips. “Who the fuck is WE Eric?!?!” My face felt like it was on fire. “Did you have your privates prodded like an animal? Did you grow a human being in your body, did you feel her kick your bladder?? I heard her scream Eric! She fucking screamed inside of me when…. When…. When…. AHHHHHHHHH” I fell to my knees as I screamed and pulled my hair. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this! It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” I rocked my body back and forth as I continued to pull.

Mom got up and ran to me. “Anna stop! Honey please! Please stop! Anna! Anna Banana!” Everything was wet with tears, snot, and fucking egg drop soup. Her hands were slipping off of mine.

Eric stood up and walked into the nursery. He grabbed baby doll Rachel. He returned and knelt behind us. He didn’t try to pull us apart, he didn’t say anything, he just put his arms around us and squeezed us together. I loosened the grasp on my hair and we cried as one. All three of us were crying.

Crying, never realizing life could be like this.

Never realizing it could all slip away, like fall leaves falling one by one, with no hope of spring around the corner.

………………………………………………………………………………………

“Clarie, an industry titan, who inspired women around the world was found dead today in her Parisian Luxury hotel suite. She was 79 years old. She had come for the big Paris reveal of her most recent product line. Touching tributes and heart-felt memorials are flooding social media, let’s look at some now:

Claire revolutionized my life, she gave me the courage to go after my dreams!

The realest one to ever do it, the Queen joins the ancestors RIP Claire!

She inspired millions of girls around the world! Showing us we can be whatever we want to be! Truly inspirational Rest in Power Claire!”

There will be a tribute at the scheduled product launch.

Wow, what a powerful woman eh Wendy?

No doubt Thomas. We’ll see what happens to her company after her death. There’s already live social media exchanges of executives, and major shareholders battling over succession with rumours that the company will be carved up.

What goes up must come down eh Wendy?

No doubt Thomas.”

There was a mechanical whir in my room. I turned to my nurse. “You see that Nurse, that’s Claire, that’s my sister who died yesterday.”

“My condolences Ms. Anna.”

“Thank you. We last spoke about three months ago, she was on vacation in Bora Bora. That sounds a lot better than hanging out in this dusty old nursing home listening to an old woman blabber about her life story. Thank you for your time, nurse.”

“Of course Ms. Anna, is there any other way I can help?”

At that moment I saw a little girl walking while holding, I presume her mother’s hand, a balloon saying “Happy Birthday!” I heard her through the wall. “Happy Birthday Grandma!”

“Thank you sweetheart!”

“Poppa’s coming with the cake, look here he is!”

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear grandma, mom. Happy birthday to you!” The grandmas and moms overlapped each other.

Claire's face was still on the television screen. I thought about my Mom and her big gummy smile. I said audibly, commenting on their singing “They didn’t say her name.”

“Pardon me Ms. Anna, I did not hear what you said.”

“Oh I didn’t say anything.” I lied.

Everyone was gone, Mom, Dad, Michael, Eric, and now Claire. I turned to the corner of the room where she sat, dusty, paint chipping, a faint smile on her face.

“Rachel….”

“Yes Ms. Anna, would you like to address me as Rachel?” The wheels begin to whir, as her little engine tuned up. “Pardon me Ms. Anna, as this is not an emergency I must recharge my battery. Another nurse unit will be in shortly.

I perked up as the nursing robot rolled out of the room.

Claire’s tribute in Paris began playing on the TV, showing pictures of her and her life’s work as her theme song played on.

“Let us die young or let us live forever

We don't have the power but we never say never

Sitting in a sandpit, life is a short trip

The music's for the sad men

Forever young, I want to be forever young.

Do you really want to live forever?”

Godspeed isn’t lightspeed
It doesn't move all at once
It took 14 billion years 
to make you. But you can
bet your little bottom
Godspeed
knew you'd exist the moment
silence bloomed into a big bang.

Godspeed isn't fast
it's geological, glacial,
it's growth and process.
It's grandma sitting on
the porch, looking.
The world passing by.
Hour after hour,
day after day.
Godspeed 
notices the leaves change,
watches the grass grow. 

You were made for greatness.
To make the universe sing
To make the land bend.
You were made to carry others
to give hope to the hopeless,
And courage to the scared

You are made for greatness little one.
Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
Don’t trade it for riches or fame. 
Your heart is an infinite flame
Burn it long and bright
so the blind may see.

You are blessed by greatness.
God made you who you are.
He sends failed tests & scraped knees.
Dead pets & loneliness.
But none can stop you from going far.

You carry greatness.
I see it in your smile & laughter
Your tears & chatter, wins & struggles,
in your anger, in your kindness.
you are made for greatness
I can see it... it’s who you are

I met a man from Kalamazoo
who looked a lot like horse leg glue.
He had three nickels balanced on his nose 
he wore holey, dirty ole' clothes. 
He grumbled about the government
how they always spent and never invent. 
Then he turned and pointed at me
said "Boy! You better get outta these streets.
Hard times are a'comin',  blood will spill
the crooks and robbers will get their fill.
They'll play folks like a tuned up fiddle,
all the while laughing, launching their spiddle."

He was a'whoopin' and a'hollerin' and a'jumpin' around
I was hoping to escape into the gatherin' crowd.
But his eyes were locked, dead-on to mine
it's like he had a hold uh my mind.

"Don't run from your fate! Can't you see
you're exactly what this here nation needs.
A good young buck, who loves his home
who don't sell friends for lumps of gold. 
Who wants everybody to just be free
cause they're a lot like you 
and a lot like me." 

The crowd started gettin' stirred up mad 
"How dare you say these dirty things!
Everything here is fine and dandy
look at the young lads gorging on candy,
teenaged girls callin' old men daddy. 
We say, We say, —and We'll say it again. 
This body politic is nice and natty." 


The throng started teeming with strife
a husband began beatin' his wife,
a mother choked her new-born dead 
kids began bitin' like they never been fed. 
The Old man started to cry….

I got picked up by each one of my limbs
and folks kept pullin', members twist and bend. 
Bones rippin’ outta their sockets
That raggdy bastard hometown prophet
Lookin’ on like heart broken kin
“This is what’s birthed  by self-denyin' sin
You ain’t yourself,  live the serpent instead.
Hard times are a’comin my foolish son
Hard times are a’comin you can try an’ run.”

Chop off this head o mine
It never thought no good no-how.
Filled up with fear,
enmity, and lies.
Chop it off and kick it down the road
Like a tin can, like a dodgeball
Just like a low down rollin’ stone.

Chop off this head o mine.
Replace it with somethin’ fine
A lotus head…
full of fragrance
feedin’ bees,
blessed by water
detached and free.

Use me as your tetherball
Whack me ‘round that shine’in pole
Make your play 
My delight.
Hit me straight —   
Snap that string — 
Send me out 
Past Saturn’s rings.

Catch my head among the stars
Draw me down into Your lap.
Please won’t you brush my hair?

Hold onto this head o’ mine
Place it close,
cheek to cheek.
Baby spoon me in infinity’s sleep.

Chop off this head O mine
And teach me to play this Game of Love.

No one understands a man like his car.
She's there with him when silence rides in the passenger seat.
She carried him safe, when he was lost,  
and unsure if he wanted to live.

Only that American Metal Steed
knows how he's cried,
when Skynyrd followed Cash
after his momma died.
Only she knows what driving with the winduh
down, win' blowin' through his beard
means on the inside.

Ain't no one knows a man like his car.
Cause she ain't never once judged him
nor made him feel less than for the bad roads he's run.
the risks he took, the laws he broke.
She never needed him to be anything more'n he is.

Tamin' her is what made him a man
And when her engine finally gives out, 
He don't say much. Just knows—
metal, computers, and motor oil have Soul
And you can't tell him any different.
Cause when the black smoke rises...
a tear is sure to fall.

Stillness at the water’s edge.
Skipped stones ripple the surface.
Self-centeredness is thinking
you can stop them
with more stones.

Relax,
Accept,
Witness the ripples,
They will stop, the water will still.

In the silent mirror,
Recognize you are the same as the water.

Let this Mind of His also be in you,
O you little Christ, walk across, Son of Man.
Do not listen to your ego-minded-Peter-self-doubt.
You are not different from the water,
You do not need to sink below the depths.

Drowning in the dark, look up at the ripples.

Relax,
Accept,
Witness the ripples,
They will stop, the water will still.

Let yourself become Living Water.
Relinquish your chattering doubting little Peter.
O Mind, You are the Divine Light, Recognize your Root.

I was talking to a true Lion of Judah
"It's about honesty Raj, and I ain't talking
cash register honesty."
"What other kind of honesty is there Marpa San?"
"I'm talking about the honesty that goes deep 
down in your soul. The kid that forces you to
see you ain't nothing but an asshole. The
honesty that whispers 'you're full of shit'
ever time you open your mouth."
"Oh... well I ain't got too much of that."
"Well, then you're dead already....
Time to get to work on that resurrection of yours."

Welcome to the new Refined and Revolutionized substack: Iron & Ink.
This isn’t a poetry blog—it’s a forge. A torch in the age of Post-modern collapse.

The site has been stripped down and rebuilt to reflect what this work truly is:
🔥 Not expression—but refinement.
🔥 Not performance—but spiritual war.
🔥 Not aesthetics—but revivification.

This is the first piece.
Good Friday comes this week.
Let the death of illusion begin.