Dear Beloved One,

Thank you for all you’ve done
To keep me here above the grave.
Even when sweet death you craved.
You proved stronger than they thought,
All who left you in a spot.
They gave up long ago,
But your heart they didn’t know.

Inside you burns a fire,
Always blazing as others tire.
It fights all the hellhounds
Trying to run you to the ground.
And when the light dims and wanes
You feed it with great pains.

The sorrow that grew inside your soul,
The depression that kept you in a hole
Were no match for your mighty spirit.
Brave you fought, ‘though you feared it.
Exhausted, you still stay awake
To vanquish the demons in your wake.

How hard you worked and toiled
To get your gears well oiled
For defense against each coming night,
To expose the ghosts in hidden sight.
So, you slipped back several times.
You’ve paid dues for all your crimes.

Let go of guilt nagging you.
You did all that you could do.
You saved yourself, but not them all.
Too quickly did some fall.
No one blames you for your survival.
We can only launch our own revival.

They may stay blind, but I see
Your fervent efforts and tenacity.
You’ve labored to the barest bones
To survive and find much brighter tones.
After every stumble, you rise anew.
For this, again, I thank you.

Sincerely,

You and me

Ninety nine bottles of torture on the fall
I pick one up
Pass another round

Again darkness rides
I twinkle, glow n shine

Delicate soul, fragile heart
Shattered bones, creating art

Chewed up, spat out
Bread crumbs
I find my way about

For no one knows the ache that resides
A beautiful cover as assigned

Sealed with wishes
Thank you for your stitches

The torture of ninety nine bottles
Hello Role Model
Kisses

A little girl so sad and blue.
Back then, you didn’t know what to do.
Your secret sat sunken in your core.
It festered like a swollen sore.
No wonder you failed to sail the skies, to soar.

Oh, woe is the existence of the depressed.
Always failing to be impressed
By life’s joys and wonders.
Forever taken by falls and blunders.
Will light ever break through the stormy thunders?

That little girl so sad, it’s true.
She had a grim grief no one knew.
Tears flowed inside her tired soul,
And death became her only goal.
The girl grew old as living took its toll.

Farewell sad self from long ago,
Back when you had nowhere to go.
You squandered your soul
And knelt inside a lonely dark hole.
Did you think you’d ever see us whole?

Now you sail the sordid seas.
Brave and bold you bring monsters to their knees.
Stronger now and in love with life.
You don’t back away from strife.
Who knows just where you’ll be
In the years we’re yet to see.

Mother, oh, mother!
That look upon your face
When I awoke as a critical case.
Never had I seen your eyes so tearied blue.
Never had I felt your aching heart so true.

Weeks had slidden by
While in a coma I did lie.
You must have trembled deep inside.
You must have shuttered at my bedside.

They said it was a mystery
What I imbibed so viscerally.
They knew I must’ve wanted to die.
They knew my chances were not high.

Yet lying in that bed,
Only emptiness filled my head.
I could not recall what I had done.
I could not reveal my mind to anyone.

Regret I did not feel
For I knew not how I could heal.
My pain still stuck to my sad soul.
My pain still sucked my essence whole.

Yet when I peered into your eyes
I found an unexpected surprise.
I had been wrong that you lacked love for me.
I had been wrong that my life wasn’t meant to be.

At that moment I did decide
That in misery I would not hide.
I’d fight the darkness that plagued me so.
I’d fight the sickness that tried to grow.

I put my life into your hands
And I followed all your mands.
It took trust to drop my worn-out crutches.
It took time to build up my new trusses.

Today my spirit’s strong
For I follow a sweeter song.
Always will I push past the agony.
Always will I honor your love for me.

The pandemic hit
I quit
All went south
Forever broken, I frown
Should have believed her
Setting the features

Your what drove her
I thought it was over
I gave up on trying
Day after day I lie here dying
This is my life
Just give me the knife
Trapped in a loup
Someone remove this Damn Hula Hoop

We move and move and moved again
Oh God, please tell me when
Strapped
I find myself trapped
Her world stolen
Lifeless in motion
Ripped from the streets
I will not be beat

I run and hide
This is no fun, she cried
Locked up
Corrupt
Confined
Is this what you had in mind
Stories over, the end
My life, where I shall spend

Never getting out
My veins a drought
Sweet and naive
Kidnapped, I believe
What right do you have
Attacked
Soon you will feel the impact

This insane world
Flipped and swirled
Pinned down
Should have never moved to this Godforsaken Town

Mother
I will not suffer
I will not die here with you
I know the truth
Forgotten
We shall not be in here rotting
Left behind
This is not what I designed
Unfound
I will rise from underground
Not a sound
Silence
My guidance
A protector
I Am Now the Director

I will scream and shout
Whale my hands and feet about
Bring the world down with me
Open your eyes you shall see
For you will pay too
Your time is due
I will show you well
Oh boy am I gonna tell

Who knew
The me that was me
I will forever be
This clock has awakened
Tick Tock Taken
My innocence
I am Magnificent
I will not bow
This is not allowed
My future scene
For I am Queen

10-1-2024

Dear Dad,

Did you know what you instilled into me when you taught me to “keep on, keeping on,” as Bob Dylan crooned so many years ago? Sure, he sang of a woman he couldn’t free from his mind, but you taught me I need to free myself from my own mind. Took me decades to realize what weight those words held for me, how it pushed me through tough times, how it caused me to question each comfort I found in some new demise, and that I can – but must not – give up.

The first time you quoted this quip to me, I don’t even recall what fall I took. Must have been something light, merely a flesh wound (as another quote chides). Perhaps I
scraped my knee or fell off my bicycle. Whatever it was, it caused tears to roll down my cheeks as I processed the shock of physical pain. No whining though, just tough tears that I brushed off like a champ ready for the next bruise or abrasion, as I told myself to “keep on, keeping on.”

Next time, as I recall, was a bit closer to the heart. A so-called friend turned the other way when she found a prettier face or personality. No longer was my playmate knocking on my door or calling the house. I was yester-year, a has-been, a thing better left in the past. My ego took a big hit, but Dad, you lifted my head and bid me to keep it high, to look ahead and not behind and to “keep on, keeping on.”

As my mind and body grew, so did the darkness deep inside. I did not know if this aching was how everyone lived their lives or if I was alone in my depression. Too young to fairly compare, but too old to not notice the smiles and laughter that mocked the feelings I held hidden. Even you, Dad… I did not know if you knew what I had become… this black ball of misery and confusion just trying to “keep on, keeping on.”

Over the following years, which creaked by like rusting gears, I realized, Dad, that you too struggled to keep on. You’d come home late at night from work, with a grimace that sometimes scared me. You had your own darkness to work through. I wish I could have helped, but I was still so small and powerless, and drowning too. But I still remembered what you taught me – you must just “keep on, keeping on.”

When I finally reached adulthood I thought my new freedoms, that were denied to children, would open up my world and free my burdened soul. I fled the nest and forgot the past – even you, Dad, I had put behind me. But no light leaked through the hardened barrier I had built around myself over those tender years. Like the ants that creeped into my room, people crawled in and out of my life without much notice, rarely getting through my tough exterior. Meanwhile, as sour grades turned into expulsion, turned into low-paying jobs, turned into another existential crisis… I became deserted in my own hole of Hell. It was lonely without you, Dad, but I didn’t forget to “keep on, keeping on.”

Eventually though those words started losing meaning or got scrambled in my brain. I wanted to “keep on” but for what, I did not know, and each moment carried with it more questioning, suffering, and dread. It was as if I was drowning, trying to hold my breath in the midst of it all so as to not swallow in the deadly waters surrounding me. I found some things to help me hold my breath a little longer – drugs, sex, and cutting. You did not approve, did not understand, would not tolerate and so I pulled farther away from you. Then one day I found myself very close to death and you were there for me. You stopped judging me. You simply reminded me that I must “keep on, keeping on.”

That wouldn’t be my only brush with death and the third time I landed in the ER you had lost your patience. How could I explain that even though I held Bob Dylan’s words close to me, there was a part of me that had to self-destruct? It was as if a monster had sucked me into his very bowels and all my fighting was turning out to be worthless. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to “keep on,” it was more like I had lost the motivation and tools to do so. I was not just sick but broken beyond all repair… or so I thought at the time. Even though you couldn’t fathom my disease, you found for me a place where I could find wholeness. In a multitude of other languages, I relearned your old soliloquy to “keep on, keeping on.” I found old and new tools for fighting the monster that had taken me and slowly but surely reclaimed my will to live again. My healing and repair were not completed there, maybe it never will be, but I got to a place where I could breathe again. Since then, I have ventured further into the ocean depths of living, riding her waves with bits of calm to regain my courage. Sometimes it is barely enough, but those words to “keep on, keeping on” beat like a drum in the jungle synching along to the rhythm of my own heart. No matter the obstacles in my way or the enemies beating me down, I believe I will stay on the path of living and never fall backwards again.

Love,

Your First-Born Daughter,

Kara

Dear God,

It’s internally overwhelming dealing with death. It’s like going out to dinner with 7 people at a table. You’re all aughing, smiling, enjoying that meal because it’s filled with love and it’s seasoned well. Your meal is over and it’s time to go back home, but then one of you don’t get back in the car. Your family is in the car and you watch the other family member stand outside the car. You wave to them and you become sad. It’s now 6 of you in the car driving back home in silence and confusion. You have to put that key in the door, open it and go up to that room where that person is no longer coming home to get in that bed. “Is this real?”

Reality hits and now you are sad. You’re crying, hyperventilating, and your brain is racing. You ask yourself “What just happened?” “Wait, wait, did I just leave my loved one at the restaurant and watch them walk off into the fog? “Maybe, I was dreaming?” You realized that you’re not. “Are they ever coming back?” “Who told tthem to go off into the fog like that?” You grab your phone to call them and hope they will pick up. RING…. RING….RING.. RING…

You hear something, as if someone picked up… “You have reached the voicemail of Pablo Joshua, please leave a message after the tone” “Dad, dad, are you there?” …BEEEEP…….. “Dad, please pick up, it’s me, Janet”. “Dad, can you hear me?” Then……Cancer, he answers. “No, your father is not here anymore, but you can speak to him at anytime”……silence…… more silence… more hyperventilating…..more heartache.. tears fall profusively…

“Hello, cancer, you really took him? Cancer, you son of a bitch! “

You really took him away from me, away from all of us??”…Who invited you into our lives?”.

You grab your chest because you can’t breathe. You even think, “maybe I should go back to that restaurant and join him in the fog”.

No, you can’t do that!

Its’s morning. I hear calypso music playing. The sun is up. I just don’t smell Johnny Cakes. I wish I did.

My dad is in my house and I see him everyday. I hear his voice, his fingers snapping, and his feet tapping to Hall & Oates.

(Music playing…lyrics are in tune)….
“You’re a rich girl, and you’ve gone too far
cause you know it don’t matter anyway…
You can rely on the old man’s money..
You can rely on the old man’s money..”

I walk down my steps and I see him. I smile. “Look at him, having a ball”, feeling the music in his soul. His eyes are closed and he is smiling. I see it. Look, at him. It’s my youngest son. His face is just like his. His soul is just like his. It’s beautiful to see. He’s my fathers twin.

I go down another flight of stairs and look at my dad, laughing and talking on the phone. Its my dads laugh so distinctively. It’s my oldest son. He’s my dads other twin.

I’m out at a restaurant and it’s music playing. I hear my dad speaking and playing his favorite tunes. I stop short, look up and smile. It’s him. There he is, being an amazing DJ that he loves to be. The voice on the mic and that’s Pablo’s voice. It’s, my brothers voice. He is such a great DJ, just like my dad. He makes his sets and send them out to people so they can enjoy and feel the love for music just like he taught us.

Wait! Just wait a minute, look at my dad out there on the dance floor. He loves two stepping to the music. I hear Anita Baker, Kenny G, and calypso king, Arrow. You can tell he feels the music with every step he takes. It’s My little brother and he is out dancing and smiling on the dance floor, just like my dad.

I hear sports playing, it’s loud. I use to wish he would turn that down. I hear the commentary. He’s watching sports. and now he’s broadcasting live from the station. Who would have thought that Dad? I know you are so proud of your baby boy. My youngest brother is the sportscaster. He is my dads other twin.

I see and hear my dad all the time. I’m blessed. I’m grateful. He lives in me everyday, he lives in my sons and my brothers.

God, my father taught me all about music.
He lived and breathed music. All genres!

What more could I ask for? God, his spirit is never leaving my house. You were right. I want to thank you God. I want to thank you for taking my dad and putting his soul at peace. As much as I said, I wish he was here for this or that… he is., and he multiplied.

Thank you!
Love Tiny!

P.S., please let my dad know, that I miss him and his legacy of music and sports will live on forever.

Wait, I can just tell him myself.
Good night!

Rest in peace to my dad, Pablo E Joshua 1/25/48 to 4/16/18