the parted departed

     I love how the Egyptians described the dissemination of one of their god’s body parts. Was it Osiris?  This part thrown there and up sprung the seven towers of wisdom (or something like that) and people began cultivating corn and hops for beer.  His penis was tossed in the ocean and the fishes emerged out of the blue, excuse me, out of the deep blue.  His heart and other organs tossed over the land and up sprung whole worlds of relations with men and women who cooked with lemons.  Some of them later to actually ‘do the Egyptian.’  His hair fell above the plains and there sprouts the world’s snakes and slitherings.   All these gifts from the parted departed. 

     Yet I can only say to myself, sometimes in deep despair, something I’ve not shared with anyone before this, that my brother, who I have to admit, my mother thought was a god, is all in parts and cannot be brought together again. 

     Decades back, you see, when I lived another life with another person in another town.  I was certain I saw my father driving around the neighborhood.  He had already been dead, at that time, about 18 years, so that wasn’t half bad, the fact that he could still drive.  I was in my car and naturally gave chase.  I cannot even tell you the way impossibility floats like bubbles through your system when you see your long dead dad driving around town.

     I pursued him all around South Belmar until his car disappeared. It turned a corner, I followed, and his car was gone.  No lie.  So, my father the ghost rider.  But my father was not cremated and can emerge, as he did back then, to both myself and to my brother in another time and another town.  Jerry cannot.  And I seem to associate his last rider with Osiris. 

~

     Deep regrets today. Deep regrets.  I should have spoken what I felt. My brother’s tears dropped like pebbles.  Though I comforted him, I didn’t acknowledge what his tears meant. I didn’t trust him.  Even his tears.  This is something I have to live with now. I have to tell someone, you can never forgive enough or too soon.

the wild blue poem series is comprised of two sections. the first is grief, the second is resilience. this is from the section called “II Resilience”. the entire book is available through Amazon Kindle at:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E2UU19O