Too Happy

I remember the older women who told me I was too happy. A couple of peers told me this too. All I can say to that other Akua is you were right to rejoice. I thank you for your
joy because you knew how good life was for you. I speak to you from a comparative hell.
I applaud your gentleness and compassion, because you had many things I don't have:
health, your mother, your father, your bright dreams and determination to change the world. You could sleep on the floor, walk from Brooklyn to Manhattan, ride your bicycle,
carry your instruments on the bus and subway, eat florentine apple torte and caht with the smart Argentian Italian lady, be warmly greeted and served by the old Italian lady
who rocked slightly as she walked and graced you with a smile. You were right to be happy and show it, because they are all gone now and your only solace is that you loved them all, you loved your shimmering life, the songs you sung as you walked those long city blocks about your loves and your struggles, becuae now you can no longer walk or dance or hang out or play or see any of them ever again.

Meditation and Prayer

Meditation helps but I can't say how. I've been praying with my crochet. I miss the fire of flameworking and the sweat of mold making in kilncasting, the things that totally absorb and let me be in the lfow. Poetry is so hard for me when life is so hard, because I just write write write about my grief and anger. And my anger is not so much about my predicament but about how people treat me: the doors that are so hard hard hard to open even with uppre body strength I never dreamed to have. Being left to bang my way in the the morning and out in the afternoon.

If I say the right prayer will it all be open sesame and click click clikc like the clicks that i felt as i could not move and tumbled to the floor, will it all click click back in operation? I've got to walk again, so I can see my father before his forgetting erases me from his memory. He was such a wonderful raconteur, the dad other kids wished they had and they were so right to desire him, because i was grateful he was and is my father. I've got to walk again so I can see my nivlings. My aunt and uncles were such a part of me showing me who to be and not to be, how I miss the beautiful young people! I dreamt of Paris and this time there was a neighborhood that tunrd into queens--- new paris with single fmaily homes and down that block was beach and the sea and again golden sand. British columbia was discussed at Thanksgiving and Vancouver with islands and city and sea and green
all put together, a paradise.