The girl who ruined your life

I’m the girl who took your world

And flipped it on it’s side

I’m the girl who said those things

The girl who cheats and steals

I’m the girl who said I’d die

The girl who never feels

I’m the girl who left you

I said I never would

I’m the girl who loves the rush

of things I never should

I’m the girl with needles

The girl whose numb to pain

I’m the girl who gets a fix

The girl who doesn’t think

I’m the girl who loves you

The girl you can’t see

I’m the girl who loves you

Please don’t give up on me

I’m the girl who may be dead

Before the morning sun

I’m the girl who loves you babe

Please let me have my fun

I’m the girl with nothing

It is my just deserve

I’m the girl who loves you dear

The girl whose lost her nerve

I’m the girl who loved drugs

Chose them over you

I love you, love you, love you dear

It’s all I know is true

The girl has passed

She never was

In you, I see it’s true

Goodbye my love, my sweet romance

This man is leaving you.

Trapped by emotions that tame

Hearts led around on a leash by its captor

Confused by the rules of the game

A forfeit of control for each fantasy ride

Obscuring the thief in the night

Mindful of the figure in the shadows

Intoxicated by the beacon of light

Consumed by the torture absence creates

A child-like adoration abounds

Hidden wonders desperate to explore

Each destructive hold astounds

The mystery and grace of nature move them

Token resistance to the iniquity

A wolf cries boy in a repetitive chord

Unleashing the clarity of their destiny

As the universe weighs down on me

Within her peace I am set free

Show me how to live

My angel, your guidance your sun, is the only light I see

My twin soul I live for two on this earth

Every road I turn

To make you proud

Every decision I make only to see you

Walk this path with me

The flowers of another time remain

Photos of a life we have lost

No loss greater than the touch of your hand

The sound of your voice to calm my way

My twin, when I feel your presence

This emptiness somehow fades

I will not say goodbye

Nor will I give in to the feeling

That I may not make it without you

From the day you came in to this world

You were by my side

In every dream you remain

One blood, one love, one life

“…in the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.” Mary sighed as she put her ornately worked rosary back into its velvet bag. Each of its beads were beautifully polished to a shine – as much from their constant use as from their original quality craftsmanship. Truthfully, it was her most prized possession, the only thing of any kind of quality that she owned in her small, entirely overcrowded house. Her faith, really, was the only thing that kept her going. It was a product of her troubled first pregnancy – Marcus, her eldest at twelve, had been born a month premature and had very nearly not made it. Ever since she had moved from her native southern Louisiana fifteen years ago, her childhood Roman Catholicism had fallen by the wayside. That trademark Catholic guilt came back with a vengeance after Marcus’ near death, and she became one of the most common sights at the nearby St. Jude parish church. Daily mass at 7:00 am before dropping the children off to school, Saturday confession, of course at least once every Sunday, on holy days of obligation… Father O’Shannon knew her beaten and dirty tan minivan well.

It would seem that Mary’s life had become like a white trash stereotype, the irony of which she might have understood had she completed high school and learned about stereotypes (or, for that matter, irony). She had met Beau as a sophomore in high school; he was a senior. Their puppy love – the cute and bubbly blonde party girl and the tall, athletic, rugged farmboy – quickly transformed three months after they first became an “item” (in the high school parlance), when Mary found herself to be in the family way. The tale here is, unfortunately, all too common in the life of a pregnant fifteen year-old, especially one from the proverbial wrong side of the tracks: she dropped out of school around the fifth month and moved into Beau’s parent’s house after her strict Catholic parents had thrown her out. After the baby was born – Marcus – and was finally home safe, Beau surprised her by proposing, offering up his dead grandmother’s simple engagement ring. Though the final few months of her pregnancy and Marcus’ illness had been difficult on their relationship, Mary found herself able to forgive and forget at the sight of the little gold band with its small diamond. They were married four months later, when Mary was two months pregnant with their second child, Matthew. Mark followed the next year, then Mary Magdalene three years later and Moses another four after that. In all, seven people lived in the small three bedroom rent house that was the Meaux home.

As she slid into bed, a few minutes past midnight, she felt the sense of calm that always came to her from praying the rosary. The mechanic’s shop that Beau worked at – and would eventually, he had confided to her once, own – had become backed up with engine overhauls and repairs following the devastation of Hurricane Ike, and he had been putting in long nights for the past couple of weeks. Never, however, had he been later than nine or ten o’clock. When the front door finally opened at half past one, then, the sense of calm that had come to Mary had quickly been replaced by dread. Surely, she thought, he hasn’t been at the shop this entire time. If not there… then where? She got her answer when the door to their bedroom swung open and her husband teetered in, the smell of cheap whiskey quickly reaching her across the small room.

“Beau, where you been? It’s past one!” “Shut it, woman. Get back to bed.” “Beau, you been drinkin’?” Her husband, steadying himself against the door frame, twisted his lips into a wicked grin. “Ain’t you a smart one. Now, bitch, I told you to get back to sleep.” Mary slid out from under the covers, her thin blue cotton nightgown stretching over her short, stout frame. As she walked over to her husband, she got a glint of light from the streetlamps outside which illuminated her man. More importantly, it lit the collar of his dingy work coveralls and the smudge of lipstick near his neck. At the sight, she stopped, less than five feet from him.

“Beau, what’s that on your collar?” His eyes narrowed as he reached up to wipe the incriminating evidence away. “S’nothing. Now get back to bed before I have to tell you again.” The threat took on further menace as he took a step towards her, his right hand balling into a fist. “You been with a woman? Beau Reggie Meaux, you been with a woman?”

His hand cracked out at her like a rifle shot and caught her across the face, knocking her back into the bed. “Woman, I told you to shut up and get back to bed. Why don’t you listen?” He stepped towards her again, rearing back and cracking her across the face again. Already, her face was splotched with crimson, tears streaming down her face as she curled into a fetal position and sobbed. “Bitch, get back up, I’m not done with you!” His inebriated drawl resonated throughout the small house as he grabbed her by the forearm and wrenched her back to her feet.

“Why would you do this, Beau?” Mary managed to say between sobs. “Why would you do this to me?” Obviously sickened with himself, Beau paused, his hand raised to strike her again. His outstretched hand dropped as he turned, stumbled through the doorway, and left the house. The diesel rumble of his truck shattered the stillness of the night as Marcus, age twelve, stood in the doorway and watched his beaten mother wail.

I found them at age three.
Daddy took me to see the frogs.
We played there for hours and we laughed.
But as I got older, daddy and I didn’t have time together.
…We grew apart…
…Away from each other…
…Away from being father and daughter…
But the steps stayed for me.

At 13, I was a lost young girl. Home wasn’t a place I wanted to be, so I took a book and ran to the steps…
…I’d let them be my magic carpet to take me to the stars…
…Or my tree house to scout an entire island…
…Or even just my rock to keep me grounded somewhere…
The stepping stones became my stability when I was lost.

At 21, I left home.
I took pictures of the stepping stones with me to remind me of what I had in them…
…But it wasn’t the same…
…It wasn’t like being there and having the indescribable feeling of solidity…
And so I visited them nearly every other weekend.
I’d drive to that little stream and just sit and listen to the brook pass by me and my stepping stones.

And then…

…I met him.

Never before had I seen another person at my stepping stones other than my dad.
But, that beautiful spring day, there he was.
…Golden hair shining in the slivers of sunlight beaming down…
…Rose tinted lips smiling slightly in the peaceful enjoyment of the world around him…
…Sitting so quietly on my stepping stones.

I fell in love right then and there.
…No words were needed…
…No names…
…No gestures…
…Simply a look and a smile.

We met there every week for nearly a year.
We and the stones would sit and laugh together…
…Weep together…
…Argue and spat together…
…But importantly always together.

We had our wedding pictures taken there on a beautiful spring day just like the one on which we first saw one another.
We spent our lives thanking God for those stepping stones…
…for the years we had shared…
…And for letting us find each other…

After 62 wonderful years, we took one last visit to the stepping stones.

He took my hand and led me to the middle stone…
…There I sat in his loving arms feeling safe…
…Feeling loved…
…Feeling free…

I remembered all the times I shared with him…my children…my daddy…
I closed my eyes as he held me in his arms and I slipped away as he whispered tenderly to me…

‘The stones brought us together, my sweet. How appropriate that they shall take us to eternity together…to love you evermore…my darling Amelia.’

It’s maddening to decide which is mine
How do you decide
when your eyes are shown rocks
And your dream is shown reality
Your heart hopes
And your brain struggles
to see what is unrelentingly clouded to you

At one point I give myself up to instinct
And just walk
Walk with a straight back
And eyes looking ahead unblinking
I go as I feel and I feel my path as I go
I occasionally toss a glance at the signs
How much can they tell?
For in all truth
Who knows where the path might lead

He’d strike those pins, and– what do you know!

Right down the lane, into the pit,

that ball would roll– and it would hit!

But Tuggler was a funny clown:

He’d put those pins upside-down

And–what do you know! He’d bowl again

He’d knock them over: even then!

But that’s not all! He’d get a thought:

he’d stack ‘em up: hey, why not??

then he’d wind up his lucky arm

and squeeze his nose, just for charm,

then– what do you know! He let’er rip

and bit down on his bottom lip

slowly it rolled, down the aisle

and knocked on over that ol’ pin pile!

The crowd went crazy, they had a fuss!

Tuggler smiled as they went nuts

He tapped his nose and turned around

then he jumped(first up, then down)

Because he knew, not like the crowd,

that to make a fuss just makes you frown.

Well, thats the great story of my friend Tuggler,

The friendly clown who was a juggler.

A/N: Well, “what do you know”! The End!

We’ll love

We’ll wait

I’ll cry.

’til Jesus comes

the grass will grow

my friends will go

And I’ll cry.

’til Jesus comes

People will hurt us

churches will break down

I will still cry

’til Jesus comes

there will be war

there will be hate

there will be rape

I’ll always cry

But when Jesus comes

the trumpet will sound

The clouds will roll

And with joy I will… cry.