Clean Again

A little lyric about redemption that recently came to me:

All these black marks on my life
Love in vain and work in strife
And followed ‘round by pain

And I see you over there
Freedom running through your hair
How I’d love to be clean again

Clean again
Water rushing over me
Till the end
Blood spilling into the sea

I was born with both hands tied
Blindfolded and mystified
And scouring the stain

Beholden to a gentle wind
You sail to me I take you in
How I’d love to be clean again

Clean again
Water rushing over me
Till the end
Blood spilling into the sea

Counting My Blessings

One of my favorite pleasantries of etiquette in the English-speaking world is the familiar “God bless you” that follows a sneeze. It’s a random act of kindness that was invented before the concept of random acts of kindness was even conceived. For many people, saying a good-natured “God bless you” is a reflex, as automatic as picking up a ringing phone. But such well-intentioned, automatic blessers lose touch with the actual message behind “God bless you,” which I’ve always taken to be the wish for good health despite a symptom of illness in someone with whom you share physical space.

This is an era in which one driver will shoot another who cuts him off in traffic; people steal one another’s identity just to access riches; and kids blow up folks on video screens in the name of entertainment. Yet “God bless you” is a gift to all sneezers that remains with us, a vestige of an earlier time when it was a good thing to smile upon your neighbor and perhaps even let him in front of you in line. According to social mores, anyone can say “God bless you” to anyone—even a convict might say “God bless you” to a sneezing cellmate.

Granted, as the influence of the church has abated over the years, “God bless you” has largely been secularized into simply “bless you;” but its spirit remains for the believer and atheist alike. My friend Vance, a contentious type, doesn’t like to say “God bless you” to sneezers. Ironically, Vance is a devout Christian—but he doesn’t throw God around loosely. However, he doesn’t say “bless you,” either. As much a word parser has he is a churchgoer, Vance feels there’s no reason to bless a sneezer. A more appropriate response, he argues, would be to say “Congratulations.” He’s read that when you sneeze, your heart actually stops beating; so really what we should be doing is congratulating the sneezer for getting the heart to beat again. Now Vance also questions the validity of “How are you?”, but that’s another commentary.

I know others who don’t bless. My wife doesn’t bless me anymore, either. I suppose familiarity breeds non-blessing.

“Bless you” has its equivalent in most languages. The Spanish, perhaps more pragmatically, say “Salud!” to sneezers. It means, simply, “Health!” But the Japanese, interestingly, have no sneeze response akin to “God bless you.” Japan is a country in which there’s little organized religion. Could it be organized godlessness that makes these people uninterested in blessing sneezers?

I’ll bless anyone, anywhere. It gives me an opportunity to connect, at an airport, a doctor’s office, a funeral. I love when strangers bless me, too. I feel a little awkward, I admit, when I sneeze two or three times, and I press the limits of others’ beneficence. But if I sneeze repeatedly and someone blesses me in kind, I know there’s a heart beating in sync with mine.

What I Saw When the Lights Went Out

I saw December, grayest month of all
Gray matter almost freezing inside me
Silent season, counterbalance summer madness
Stop the constant motion, think unthinkables:
The profound wisdom of babies, eloquence of dogs,
Passivity of leprechauns asleep
Dreaming rivers dried by heat of passion
A thousand wordless Bibles
Animated version for the blind
Holy Story
They see it and don’t see it when they blink
Blind people blink and see a brighter light
Within the silent grayness of December
At least that is what I think I thought I saw.

Known One

This is a love that spans oceans
Crosses over lifetimes
Breathes deep reverie
Into dried bloodlines
Staining no one
Searing no hearts
Holding no hostage
Caressing like wind
I hear her in the distance
Approaching at dawn
Aura above me
Abyss below
Suspended here I wait until time turns backward
Into the night I knew.

Hail to the Chief

Today it was revealed that top intelligence advisors tried to inform the Leader of the Free World that Iran is NOT building nuclear weapons. Apparently King George II didn't get the memo. Just more proof that "George W. Bush" and "intelligence" don't belong in the same sentence.

I Am Always Awake

Night falls like a shroud
On the sun and the clouds
And people fall into dreams
Knowing not what they mean
But I am always awake

Feeling joy, feeling tired
Every nerve is on fire
Wanting rest, wanting space
To unfurrow my face
But I am always awake

The last of the words
That my lonely ears heard
How they ricochet round
In my skull’s lonely town
But I am always awake

At last you may flee
Into sweet reverie
With the respite you crave
And the breath that you save
But I am always awake.

Not

The clouds are not melting
The sea is not deep
It is merely a fiction
I entertain in my sleep

The moon is not stricken
The sun is not spent
The angels know not
Of my crime and intent

The stars are not dying
The world is not free
It is just I am dreaming
Of you and of me.