TL Boehm - Writer

Those souls who have touched my life - then moved on...I miss you.

Morning drifts through windows closed. Her sunlight brings warmth but no comfort as I watch hummingbirds hover. Jeweled wings a blur against bare branches. The bones of broken trees and memories waiver liquid. I cannot bear to let them fall.
Today is the goodbye moment. Kiss and cry as faceless friends press wet palms against our backs and chant the mantra..."I'm so sorry for your loss. He was such a good man...He loved Jehovah..." So proper in suits and ties - perfume and sweat in a cloud of sadness, God will veil my eyes so I don't remember this day except in bits and pieces. Flower petals spent on dry ground. I am this throw away child with the paper doll heart.
Faced with a box of ashes and this terminal ache how can I be grace? So brutal to tell the child in my soul she cannot climb up in your lap to watch the words as they fell from your mouth...mouse eaten corners and molding images - your legacy tossed in boxes on my livingroom floor....no crosses....no Christmas....no military...I'm alone with the you I knew in pieces...where is my peace?
Whether you sleep or cease my actions only testify to a memory. LIke a dog I crave that praise at the end of the day....good girl....I will cause no pain. Please and "thank you." Sit like a young lady...I will disappear by degrees....and never shame your name....but I ache
written for my dad....

Terry is still very much alive and in my life - but the girls we were...are long gone...and I miss them.. 

"when I find myself in times of troubleMother Mary comes to meSpeaking words of wisdomLet it beLet it be"

Solo notes set to rest
Crimson petals fragrant
Descants and refrains
Take the light
Take the floor
This image flickers
Suspended adoration
Sister mine

Forever singing in the secret
Sacred places
Unscathed, unscarred
Wild irish locks in ringlets
at your throat
grace notes and triplets
concrete streets and desert skies
While years and tears fall around me
I keep you safe inside

Weve weathered everything
casual insincerities
jealous suppositions
vicious cycles of friends and enemies and fools
Ticking clocks mark idle time
You so often the weary warrior
While I cower naked behind these words
Pray they say enough to cover us both
Passing off my emptiness
You fill it up
Give again
Feed my monsters fragile kindness
from your hand
You bless me more than you will ever understand
My sister Treasure
the forgiveness of a friend
All my petty dreams and inclinations
gathering dust at the end of the day
I slip away to that sacred moment
and you are there
I hear you sing again to me

"whisper words of wisdom....let it be"
 Take the light
and you are free

for Terry - who gave me a second chance at friendship.

012209 I'm in a dry season when it comes to poetry - not for lack of ideas - but lack of time to develop them. I took time I didn't have yesterday - and let this one out. In 1981, Terry and I were juniors in High School - sharing this big dream of rock sisterhood. By 1982, I got a big ego, and Terry got a life. My dreams never manifested, and hers - they changed as some dreams do. But now, because she forgave me repeatedly - we are friends. So the poem is for her. It is an image I have of her, on stage, singing - casting a flower to the crowd - I remember her spotlighted....I remember the applause....for her...it is a precious image. I hope she reads this and it brings her light.As for me, I'm in a dark place. My coworker, for personal reasons is now on a "Variable" schedule meaning when she's here, she's here but not "here" and when she's not - I still have to cover her desk and mine. I'm running out of time to get my job done (I have deadlines for tax stuff) and I'm weary. There is no assistance. I am the "assistance."  At home? Neither car has been repaired, other things are cropping up....and the younger boy has decided I do not exist. When all you want to do is put your arms around a child you love - and the child calls you an ass, and a mofo and says "if you put one hand on me I will snap your neck" (he's 12. I could take him OUT - but words - words do more damage than any hand could do....at least to this soul) There is no sanctuary. I have nowhere else to go. It sucks being a guppy.And so, I find I must concede. I'm tabling "bookstuff" for awhile. The fam will not coalesce to give me time, and work - 50 - 60 hours a week - that's the norm. All the "bookstuff" does is tear at my heart. I'll still be promoting Bethany's Crossing - I should have copies by the end of next week as the order goes in today....but as for writing a sequel or working on Ephesus - I HAVE to eat. I HAVE to pay bills and I HAVE to make sure my child gets to school. Those things eclipse all other things.No worries. I can still blog. That's mindless for the most part and so is my poetry. So I'm not leaving. But damn. The rope won't break - and I just want to breathe. Pulling against it till I break my neck is just futile.Peace.

Scribbled epithets
Pressed wet with tears
Sacred spaces carried by hallowed hands
Whispered winds that hover
Can't cover this fragile soul
Fractured by the passage of years
Each stone a death remembered
Casual depravity
Swarming queenless
Cyclonic before the storm
The walls we build
Never strong enough to stop the tide
Empty breath
Bubbles up to a silent sky
Potential of a life unlived
Slips beneath the surface
Swirling backwater memories
Heavy with fresh earth and leaves
Surrender the imprint
Of your body to oblivion
I can only wish you peace
I know will not come
Forever beyond
My aching grasp
If I could pull you
Warm inside
Some secret place
An open heart
Rubbed smooth
Sweet balm for your weary soul
I’ve lost you to the droning insanities
Shipwrecks and effigies
Cast up on the shore
You are forever dragging chains
No ascension
No freedom
Fruit plucked
Before the ripening
Bitter offering
For barren ground
Always hungry for more
I scribble an epithet
Pressed wet with tears
Plastered prayers to fill the cracks
In my fractured soul
Surrender your memory
To the silent sky
Send them love....
Good bye...

TL Boehm
010809
For "May"
Inspired by the Book "The Secret Life of Bees"

“How do I find my soul a home?”
Her words hung in the damp air, draping my heart like the Spanish moss hanging from the trees over head.
I wanted to tell her the answer but averted my eyes from her pleading gaze.
The words stuck in my throat.
“is this the way honey?”
“yeah. Take your shoes off, ‘member?”
I slipped of my sandals, stepping into ankle deep grass surprised at the warmth coming up from the ground beneath my feet.
“Hallowed ground”
“Yeah – you look like Moses too”
“Oh yeah. I’m gonna wax that moustache later.”
Evonne giggled – just like we used to when we were younger
“Shh. We need to be respectful”
“K Pastor. We’re in the church of shut up. Don’t step on Carmen.”
The name stopped me. A door shutting quietly in front of me. Locked and silent. Permanent. Cold.
“Its ok Tam. You can touch her. She won’t mind.” Evonne’s jade eyes welled over as she knelt, tracing the words – con infinito amor – etched in gray granite. “Sometimes I come here at night. Just stretch out on this slab, its almost rest. Almost.”
“Evonne…” My voice failed me.
“So tell me again, Tam. The worth of a life? When all it amounts to is polished rock and words set in stone? How do I find my soul a home?”
“Its right here sis. Its always been right here”
Evonne placed the two daisies under Carmen’s name and leaned against my shoulder as I let my tears finally flow…

TL Boehm

06/01/06 An S_P exercise....

Under the Waterfall

The moon rises
Against the last blush of sunset
And deepening velvet night
Blue light skipping down my path
Leading me to the glowing waterfall
In the midst of Shenendora
My secret place
Named long ago in song
Within my soul
I climb moss clad stone
Picking my way through golden jasmine
And violet sweet hyacinth
Up to the fall

The laughing cascade greets me
A cool mist
Of kaleidoscope water
Caresses my cheeks
Like a lost friend’s touch
Like a whispered secret
Between giggling girls
When the world was our Shenendora
And we flew on dream spun wings
 
Now cool gray granite
Marks the years between us
And the soft moonlight won’t wake you
Yet Carmen, your song still carries
On the cool blue air
And the crimson roses at your feet
Under a waterfall of tears for you
Your life still flies
On dream spun wings
Like that special song
Within my soul
TL Boehm
C:84 6/94

For Carmen Sumpter - 1965 -  1983