Saturday, July 16, 2016

Dark days make for darker nights. Divorce Journal

                                                                                                                         * Latest divorce journal entry is at the bottom of this post.


Dark days make for darker nights.

I am so scared so fearful
why won’t someone listen to me
will someone please hold me
will someone please stay with me
I am so scared so vulnerable and at risk
please don’t leave me alone.

Fear and sadness, loss and vacancy – images of long blocked or held at bay, compartmentalized, managed, endured, and suffered quietly – now flood mind and body. For love - how long can one stay and endure?

I am so scared so fearful
crying out
and all I hear is to leave
the one I love
though she beats me down every hour
I know you don’t give up on family
solemn wedding vows – better or worse
values I cannot drop without stepping away from who I am.

But it hurts so much, it hurts so much, it HURTS SO MUCH.
Why won’t someone listen to me, why won’t she come with me to get help
for us
for her
for me?

I only experience darkness from the eyes I love,
from once fertile green now ice cold depths.
I only see armed fists where once were
soft, caring and most gentle hands.

Tears finally come in full deluge. No more, choke, cry, and recover.
These are tears of a well turned upside down,
tears of hurt so deep they threaten to uproot
and turn (my) insides out. 

Go to the Benzodiazepine family
for calm
only more sadness and fog fill in.
Only real family and friends ground me, secures me,
reminds me I have some value – that words thrown at me
do not change who I am. 

(Messages from the heart are much easier to carry than those prescribed only or mostly in the mind.)

Locked doors no longer ease my fear.
Hold my hand, please don’t go, don’t let go.
Be near to ease my fear.

For over two years, no day allowed to see light

no night brought relief of fright. Longing for an hour of delight each morning’s optimism soon took flight. Perhaps eternal optimism is a sign of insanity.

Dark days make for Darker nights. 

~Bernie Paquette

The Peace of Wild Things
by Wendell Berry

When despair in the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake 
rests in his beauty on the water,
and the great heron feeds. 
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of stillwater.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Love After Love

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life. 

Thank You M. for sending these poems my way. Life is good even when living is hard. ~Bernie

"The Truth Shall Set Me Free"

I will fight this force
This force thats pressing downward
And i will break these chains
That blind me from myself so i walk the same
And i will walk this path
Without your false direction
And i will find myself
And tear open these eyes so now i can see

The truth shall set me free

When the sun is gone
And the rain starts to fall
I will be the one
I will rise through it all

And i will take this chance
To break from your tradition
And i will burn those words
And burn all that you said
And I'll finally face this day
When my eyes open wide
And i will refrain your lies
Tear of this disguise
So i walk the same

The truth shall set me free

When the sun is gone
And the rain starts to fall
I will be the one
I will rise through it all
When the sun is gone
And the rain starts to fall
I will be the one
I will rise, rise up through it all

Rise through it all!
Rise through it all!

And i will be the one to rise up through ALL!

The truth shall set me free
The truth shall set me free
The truth shall set me free NOW!

I will not, I will rise
Through this i will rise [x4]
Through this i will rise
The truth shall set me free

When the sun is gone
And the rain starts to fall
I will be the one
I will rise thorough it all [x2]

Rise through it all! [x4]

By Story of the Year (Rock Band)
I want me back
by Bernie Paquette
I am lost to myself
to others.

Storm swept over
with intent
of utmost destruction.

No time
to salvage
or shed - light.

Self esteem
KO’d again
this time for a count of eight.

once a life preserver
now merely a distant spec – dim
far away.

Surgical gutting
displaced pleasures
simple pleasures
like flowers
deprived of sunshine
now fail to open to me.

What I have found
are eternal, abyss depth
grief, sorrow, soul eroding caustic pain.

Where is the door
to truth?
What is this land
of false images and projections?

I am
I fear unquenchable attacks
within ambush of darkness.
Alone - Lost
despair seeks and nearly
finds me.

When will I once again sense
the calmness of quiet
strength and refreshment of solitude
tears of laughter
hugs of joy?
When will I once again hear
the wisp of butterfly wings
birds slicing a new pathway through the sky,
leaves waving as hands on a parade march?
When will I once again smell
the sweet odor of cows, roses, spring water dancing over stones…?

Judas has made another delivery
me to
this strange land surrounding me
expands upon itself
feeds upon anguish
while it starves me.
This dark mean overpowering masked land
survives on intimidation, anger, false pretentions,
and imposed isolation.

I must not
accept its draw
into feeding
the black hole.

A few remaining flares
well received
yet quickly diminish – their promise strong – cannot replace
my green (eyed) suns, at least not yet.

Notches -
days, weeks, months, years
of endured - degradation
longing on hope, vows,
and unwillingness to give up on family
-threaten to girdle
what once was strong, sturdy, and steadfast.

Forecasted storm
long in delivery
packed a most powerful punch
obliterating already tattered sails.

I am lost
when will I find home?
When will I find me again?

My stomach lost hunger.
My heart lost its love and cherished other.
My mind has become
a pinball machine
with emotions pinging
and gyrating
rolling up a new record
of loss.

I am lost
when will I find home?
When will I find me again?


Sad - Sad All Day
by Bernie Paquette

No more thinking
No flooding of memories Flood gates open only a trickle flows through.

Energy depleted
(My own) arms wrapped tightly around me holding in what is left inside. It is quiet today the voice vacated for now. Occasionally a few get through choking, tearing, gulping - blocking Holding myself, arms wrapped tightly rocking till the memory subsides. Sad, utterly - deeply sad. Not depressed, shy of despair -simply sad as a tattered lost puppy,
sad as an abandoned child left unwanted on a door step,
sad as a farmer in the tenth year of drought. Sad as a fisherman watching his catch dwindle though he travels farther and farther out to sea each year. A depth of sadness that quickly absorbs
any goodness encountered swallows it whole tasting little of the light.
Perhaps black holes are not just outer space phenomena.

The calm is refreshing as when an island castaway
finally accepts they are not coming back. Forever hopeful is tiring;
it is difficult to mask the harsh reality endlessly. Which is the greater hell?
A ravaging flood that overpowers all in its path
or a dried out lake all of its depth exposed and vulnerable. Gutted of it's innards the mountain lies dormant. Does it retain character, or is the blasted scraped and ravaged mountain
no more than a clam shell strewn on the beach empty of muscle that once drove its motion and being? It's so very quiet now perhaps the quiet of
a baby content in a mother's womb. Or is it the quiet we will all at some point experience
when our coal no longer fires our furnace?

Eventually the tides
power over sand castles
relinquish first their walls (of defense)
then their towers (their inner being).
Flags and family crests
wash out to sea.

Its quiet now
only a slight rippling.
Do the waves miss
overpowering the castle once its gone?
Or do the waves feel the emptiness,
where not even a footprint remains?


" seems like a miracle to be able to look forward, to see all the minutes in front of one come hopping along with something marvelous in them, instead of just saying, Well, that one didn’t actually hurt and the next may be quite bearable."
~From Busman’s Honeymoon.


"The chaffinches in the tops of the pine trees
were singing happily, and would have made [him]
happy if [he] had not felt so sad."

From 'Dag and Daga, and the Flying Troll of Sky Mountain'
by Harald Ostenson

Thursday, June 30, 2016

Vermont Butterfly Photos - Great Spangled (Cybelle) & Aphrodite Fritillary

Aphrodite Fritillary 
(Speyeria aphrodite)

                The Spool of Love
Let go of me, let go of me, she cried.
And so
he did.

And the string ran free
from the spool
having reached its end.

And the kite sailed away
full of joy
and sadness.

For what you cannot hold
you must relinquish
and what you have to give
calls to be given.

(Personal note: Poem was especially apropos on 7/9/2016)

Great Spangled Fritillary (Butterfly)
(Speyeria Cybele)
Solitary Cybele butterfly photos taken 6/30/2016 in South Burlington, Vermont. Images of a pair of Aphrodite Fritillary butterflies was taken on 7/3/2016 in Stowe, VT.

Photos ( Aphrodite Fritillary-(Speyeria aphrodite)) below taken on 7/3/2016 at Brewster Ridge Disc Golf, Stowe, VT.