A Letter Found II

Liam Honey,

It’s important that you know that your Daddy and I loved each other very much. I ‘m sure you feel that, even though you don’t get to see him very often. The things that happened to separate us just happened. Not everyone has a faerytale in their life. Or a miracle. You look so much like him. How did you so get so much taller than your Mum, eh?
I hope you’re having fun with Grandma, I am getting better. A little stronger everyday and I can’t wait until you’re back home here with me.

Love, Giju’


I guess I won’t be able to share all of this journal with him… I can’t believe how much I didn’t say in these pages… thank god for my memories… Thank god for my boy child… We made something beautiful Broken Boy Soldier…


I wore the purple dress that I know he likes, the same one that I wore just a few months ago. I put on my jean jacket and mukluks too, he calls me his Kateri Two Worlds. The first time he did, I thought he was teasing me. It’s taken me awhile to get his humour… He kind of reminds me of Judd Nelson sometimes. When he played in that breakfast movie… They’re the same sort of, cute and like, a bad boy with a heart of gold, but E is… God, he’s beautiful.  Like Adam Beach or Cody Jones. And tall! He makes me feel like a tiny faery :)))

I went with Jonny and I’m not so sure that was a good idea. I have a feeling that she is friggin’ crazy about Whiskey and I know that there is a Ms. Machine south of the border. Eric said she can drink almost as much of that stuff as W does! God, I’d barf! … Anyway-y-y, I didn’t say anything about it. Jonny doesn’t hassle me about this thing with E, other than that last time. She told me he’s going to break my heart and… I think I know that’s true.

So we got across no problem, now that I’m legal it’s easier. I’m pretty sure my Mum won’t be too impressed that Daddy let me take off for the weekend but then, from the family legends I’ve heard, Daddy and E were a lot alike. Besides, it’s not like they haven’t met him. We’ve been coming here every summer for years now. All he said when we’d finished packing up her car and we were heading out was, “You two behave and look after each other. Call me from the camp office so I know you’re there safe.” He hugged us both real tight, that’s my Dad’s version of “I love you.”

We headed out, with the tunes cranked… I can’t wait to see him again. He makes me feel like I’ve swallowed lightning and that kiss… that kiss, it was a good thing he was holding on so tight, my knees gave… it was like being drunk on the taste of him… and when I pulled his shirt out of his jeans, his skin… warm, so soft, the muscle in his back, hard under my palms, I can still taste him and I don’t care if this is crazy… I can’t write more, it was so beautiful, so perfect… Shit! My Mum is ragging again… I swear she had me just so someone else would do the dishes! Crap

~ kei
18 December 2013

To Be Continued

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The Watchers ~ One

I was so deep in my own thoughts that the shove, when it came, sent me stumbling.

That’s another thing I really dislike about Michael, besides the fact that he can be a pompous arse. He roughhouses like a highschool jock sometimes. I think he forgets that I’m a girl, something else that he just can’t seem to wrap his head around. Besides, my shoulders still hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.

As I was pushing gingerly up off my knees to stand, I could hear Gabe saying “Mike, leave her alone.” Gabe’s voice really is like music to the ears. You may have read that and wondered, but it’s true. He’s often followed around by a little posse of the Chers, they add harmonies, fills and do-wop kinds of backing vocals; annoys hell out of me.

“Turn that frown upside down Nefil Nettie! It’s not like you have to do really hard work.” I turned slowly to look at Mike, biting my lip hard. I was trying to stop from showing how much my shoulder hurt, and to clamp down on the tears that threatened to spill over.

“Leave me alone Michael”, the words were barely out of my mouth before he came back with his favourite line, “I don’t know why they bother letting you back, there’s no use sending halfbreeds to do this work.” Gabe, who is like the big brother I never had, interjected with “Mike, seriously. You are such a jerk. Back off”. Mike’s response was another typical one, he shoved Gabe’s shoulder and said “Make me.” They are like brothers, all of them are, but these two in particular.

I think Michael was caught off guard by the tackle. He’s really oblivious to how much he sounds like an arrogant jerk or when people have had enough. I love Gabriel. He doesn’t have to but he tries to understand what we’re all about and he’s always willing to go to bat for me with Michael. I think that’s because Gabe knows who my Mother was.

Watching the two guys rolling around, wrestling in a way that looked like it could become serious if someone didn’t referee; I wished he’d tell me.

~ kei
23 November 2013

To Be Continued…


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Seasons Of Love

Autumn had fallen,
Shades of garnet, topaz and petersite
We too, had fallen in love together
True that feelings can change
Just like the seasons do
But our hearts are immutable
Despite this love being forbidden
And who the hell are they to judge
To stain our love with their ugliness
While autumn holds us in her arms
Jeweled colours and thunderstorms
Shared across a distance so far
But we love under the same stars
They say nothing lasts forever
But our love is so strong
Like the return of every season
You are forever the one…


It’s the morning after last night

The first full night without him

And its funny, my eyes are sandy

My mouth tastes like last night’s cigarette

Even though I quit smoking ten years ago

I may have to start again. Don’t sneer.

He never did quit. Didn’t matter to me

I miss the snick of his lighter though

One of the pre dawn sounds that used to be

Part of the lullaby that we created together

To help each other through the night

Already I find myself reverting to old patterns

I’m afraid of the dark, always have been

As a child, I kept a flashlight and books

Under the covers with me, quiet as a mouse

Writing stories, reading to my dollies

Pretty faerytales to keep the monsters at bay

In this twenty-four hours, I am there again

Sleeping with my laptop for a night-light

Tapping out stories of love never-ending

Of soul mates and children and beautiful beginnings

I jump at every noise that I hear

In this house that is no longer a home

Placing my back against a pile of pillows

That are supposed to be the same configuration

As his frame, in this bed that feels the size of a hockey arena

And certainly, just as damn cold

How does he sleep without me?

He once told me that he hadn’t really slept in years

Not since we’d found one another

And how does he fight back those fears?

Who will know the words to say or the caresses

The exact touch and placement of kisses

That calms his nightmares right away?

Its light outside now. The monsters slink back to shadow

I think I’ll go make coffee. Even though I could sleep in

He liked fresh brewed coffee in the morning…

Every Picture Tells A Story V

All she wanted was to get the hell out of Dodge. She was pretty sure she could call herself independent but had no way to be sure, she’d never been alone. Not really. She’d always had fantasies about being out on the open road. Came close in the days when she could borrow her cousin’s Kawasaki and race the twisting road up and down Blomidon mountain. She ached for something different, something new, something that would make her feel alive again. She wrote stories about taking off, laughed with her best girlfriend about how they should do a “Thelma & Louise”, took pictures of Camaros and Mustangs at the vintage car show that happened every Tuesday in her neighbourhood. Dreams… she’d passed on getting her driver’s license, had a baby that day instead, never bothered to reschedule. She could imagine how it would be to have someone pull up at work one day. First thing. How she’d be surprised and mildly freaked and wouldn’t hesitate for even a second. Hearing the words “Get in. I don’t know where we’re going, close your eyes and point”. They’d be like that video, child of the wild blue yonder. Top down, flying along miles of highway to anywhere And the destination just wouldn’t matter anyway… as long as they were going together.

The path not taken…

Fuckin’ Epic Faerytale

Once upon a time in the wilds of a northern country, there lived a princess. This wasn’t the typical princess because on her days off, she was a lumberjack. She also liked to knit.

The other princesses of the land weren’t thrilled that one of them had such unusual hobbies. They made no secret of talking about the lumberjack princess, saying that she dropped stitches in her sweaters and that she could only cut down very small trees.

The lumberjack princess – we’ll call her “LP” for short – was a little hurt that the poofy princesses thought that only doing lunch and buying new shoes were acceptable princess activities. She was really glad that she could outrun most of the princes and knights in the realm and that she played the best defence on the royal lacrosse team. She knew that the poofy princesses were not happy that LP had the respect and friendship of the knights and princes and they were especially displeased that LP got to talk to the lads about important things like, vintage motorcycles and the best brands of bass guitar amps.

For her part, LP preferred the company of the lads. They meant what they said and said what they meant. They didn’t tell her that her skull and crossbones tiara was pretty and then snicker at her behind her back and they didn’t get jealous that she could burp the entire alphabet in French and English after three steins of the royal chef’s best beer.

LP was pretty lonely though and so one day, she wrote a note on the birch bark of one of the trees she felled for her little cottage in the woods. She attached the note to the leg of her trusty carrier cardinal and sent him off to the four directions, hoping a good friend with impeccable taste in rock music and a talent for carpentry and wordsmithery would find the note and respond.

She had pretty much given up after a few weeks, which is a long time in the northern climes because of the bad weather and impassable, snow covered expanses that her faithful carrier cardinal would not be able to get through. The scarf she was knitting to pass the time while she waited, was getting close to half a mile or .4 kilometres long and she was on the brink of considering buying a kitty cat  motif sweatshirt so that the other princesses would let her hang out with them. When lo! Her carrier cardinal appeared on her windowsill. Gripped in his little beak was a ribbon of cassette tape from Aerosmith’s “Rocks” release. The ribbon was tied to the handle of a Triumph 2010 Rocket III Roadster motorcycle, replete with a leather-clad vision of manly beauty astride the metal and chrome steed.

LP blinked and set down her scarf, she wished that she was wearing her more festive red converse high tops, they were better suited for occasions of receiving foreign knights and dignitaries but… her Doc Martens would have to do. Straightening her skull and crossbones tiara, she stepped out of her royal hideaway cabin in the woods and went to meet her visitor.

Greetings! He called, raising a hand. “Your feathered friend dropped your note into my BUN coffeemaker yesterday and I have come from a country far away where the men are men and they love princesses with skillz. I come with my nailgun and guitar, prepared to finish your hardwood floors and to rock your socks off.”

LP’s heart fluttered, this is how she knew that she wasn’t a weirdo, it was simply that there had never been someone who could make her heart flutter before and stepping forward, she offered her hand. They did the official props of welcome for foreign knights. Her new friend swung one mile long, jean clad leg over his bike in dismount and LP couldn’t help but notice his size twelve combat boots. They grew the men big in this foreign land of his birth, she thought. His gift of Chinese takeaway in the small, white boxes of his homeland, touched her heart deeply.

The knight – who we’ll call Sir Sonnet Wildman of Parchment or just “Legs” as he preferred to be called on his days off, swept LP into his arms and waltzed with her around the cabin. He didn’t tell her until much later but, he was thrilled to have found a princess who liked Rob Zombie and Merle Haggard.

Legs and LP finished the hardwood floors and cut a death metal country album together. When that went platinum, much to the chagrin of the poofy princesses, they took off on the Triumph, to visit more exotic climes… not that one can get too much more exotic than the land of Ontariana… but Hawaii had those black sand beaches and LP looked cute in a red bikini so…

That was kind of the end but not… because there were kids and dogs, tornados and ice storms and a book deal for the story of their courtship and marriage but through it all Legs and LP just loved each other up like some kind of epic faerytale and things were pretty much awesome ever after…

The Kiss

Their first real kiss was stolen, but not exactly with intention
There’d been a bottle of wine and they could feel the tension

It was a kiss that had been started long ago, a brush of two lives
Sometime back in the 1980’s, an ocean, a bonfire, a motorcycle ride

A near miss it was but the chained power of it, was a resonating echo
That created a memory of a dream that neither of them could let it go

They never knew so never had a sense of loss or of a road not taken
Just a stirring of souls, and an ever growing feeling of anticipation

So when their paths converged again, by chance or by design
They knew that kiss would happen by the second glass of wine

A small nook, remarkably close to where they’d had that first near miss
Shared laughter, stories expanded on, hands that held and then, the kiss

Just like she’d always thought, it was the taste of what she’d waited for
Like he’d always known, he’d held out then to have this chance at more

There was no shyness or hesitation, when her mouth met and caressed his
The forever that once eluded them, became infinite in the touch of their lips




State of Mind

One can find a way to be gracious to lonely. To find a way to fill the time.
Alone can be fixed in a bar, with a drink and a good dance move or witty quip
Lonely… you need to be more tender. Smarter, deeper…
Alone doesn’t mind quick ‘n dirty… a shower and Crest can fix up her aftertaste
Lonely prefers to be cherished, understood. She is the voice calling deep in your heart
Alone… you learn what you want, she can be a very demanding teacher…
Lonely is more the gentle muse, who touches your heart to remind you of what you need…

Avalon Falls

At first, all I could see were my hands, they were broken and bleeding
My dress was thin, silky… torn, bloodied. Why had I not donned my armour?
Freezing. Bewildered, I rose from the ground in the slate grey of morning
The rain was falling in mist and there was smoke in the air, as if from fire
Crying… not much… the nothing of dread I felt inside was eating all my tears
Bending and picking up one rock after another, I began placing them in a pattern
Adrenaline and abject fear made my labours frantic and my thought incoherent
My body, my hands were hurting so bad. Bruised from the inside out
A permanent reminder of  unnecessary battles fought and lost again and again
Walking to a little stream nearby, them in the icy water.Flinched at my bruised visage
When I stood to continue my work, totality of the fire and destruction, struck me.
I saw the rocks and boulders I was trying to put back had once been a castle or keep
The wind blew graveyard dirges through the mist and the smoke… and I was alone
Realization dawned, as I looked down on my longbow, quiver and arrows scattered
The marauders had found us again. We had been breached and this time, they’d won
They had taken down the fortress we had sought to make impervious to any assault
I fell to my knees weeping and in the blood that had never stopped flowing from my wounds
Mortal, I could see and taking their final toll…
I wrote my last words, in my life’s essence on the greatest stone I could find
A warning, a prayer a plea for whomever might find me:

To all who in future may pass this way, looking for fair and blessed Avalon
Should you see these frail bones, feel my loss and weep to see me gone

Heed me well and listen because this tale’s moral too, is the greatest sin
That mighty Avalon, when she fell, had been attacked by those within…