Throwback Friday – What Really Matters – prikcab (Ian Perlman)

I posted as a throwback piece this morning on godoggocafe.com

Go Dog Go Café

This throwback piece (8.14.11) was written by my late wife. Written approximately 1 month after her diagnosis with Stage 4 brain cancer. She was an amazing woman with the ability to step back, maintain and share a perspective that allowed her and all in her world to keep moving forward.

When children are laughing and jumping in a pool,

When family and friends are telling stories from a stool,

What really matters?

When “innocent” young nephews are growing hair on their chest,

When being with my sisters is the absolute best,

What really matters?

When the cousin contingent arrive with 85 platters of food,

When they drive 3 hours just to check my mood,

What really matters?

When the “family massacre” brings wasps by the hoards,

When Dad doesn’t drive the mini because he has to travel with boards,

What really matters?

It’s family and friends who let old resentments…

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3 Elephants

strength abound sat deep inside

she carried a fragile soul 

despite the scars worn by all who held her close

a united strength held her high 

readying her mettle 

a test hovered 

outside the door 

perhaps before it’s time

at an unimaginable pace

the flood arrived

forcing steps back 

to absorb the rising waters

the elephants appeared

loyal beyond all boundaries 

unwavering companions to fight loneliness

unity buoyed the strength deep inside

a weighty burden

can be shared

you are not alone

breathe deep and look for the elephants

All of You

I want you

is it too early

is it too late

I want all of you

is that too much

trying to control

this raw power

I feel small

you are inside me

but I can’t get close enough

how

can this intensity

feel so delicate

I’m gasping for air

I want all of you

summer smoke
7.2.17

October Home

in Octobers dusk

I can hear the falling leaves 

like whispers tapping upon the ground

sweet pine hanging in the air

brings me closer 

to what feels like home

longing to stay the night with you

until you tell me no

dwelling in disaster never bores me

broken sunsets make me cry

the trailing tears lay dried

as unspoken words on the window pane

laying there with empty arms

has the darkness lasting long

empty space is hard getting used to

drowning in the words you never spoke

fate holds the winning hand 

that takes the pot every time

surprised by nothing once the curtains draw

some stolen sorrow would sure be welcomed

smiles carefully hide in pockets till the dawn

weary is the mind constantly racing

heavy is the truth that holds the hammer

lonely is the heart chasing yesterday


Boston, Ma
10.8.19