L.A. Dreams, Fires and Mayhem

    Poetry and prose come into our lives, sometimes sorting visions, offering other points of view, recounting experiences, summing up feelings, calculating moods or capturing lives and people, alive, dead and in between. Perhaps the psychotherapists know why we count on the art of narrative and aesthetic of words evoking meanings and memories and maybe even further enlightenment, elucidation, and answers. Or at least the questions. Questions. All of these things may lead to something. Understanding. Expression. Meaning.

    I found myself looking up into the heavens

    Into the sunny blue sky

    Under a slight California canopy

    Six thousand feet above the sea

    We went as a big group.

    Climbing on a ship called Radiance

    We had fun times

    Created good and pleasant memories

    However 

    In life there has to be contrasts

    Perhaps maybe as my colleague

    Said

    As I explained things to her yesterday

    The cooks and servers get the salad

    From places where norovirus breeds

    The salads are delicious, as my wife avows

    Yet these tiny, vicious microbes

    Are passed into our bloodstreams and sinuses

    Which transposes themselves to our stomachs

    Which causes a toxicity

    And pain

    Finding ourselves bent over on our knees

    Lying in helpless repose

    A fever, a headache, agony of varying degrees

    And loved ones hoping the best, giving items

    Of relief

    We pray, we make well wishes

    We that suffer offer any manner of hopes

    To feel better

    To hold down our food, or even water

    I laid down on the ground,

    I remember

    Looking into the tranquil ceiling of the earth

    Trees and leaves 

    A peaceful reminder     

    Life is okay

    Things are all right

    Outside of me, trembling and churling inside

    Long nights followed by long days,

    Little TV, or books, a vacation of determination

    To finish out the time off

    Alive

    Survive to the next round

    I was laying somewhere in the mountains of 

    San Bernardino

    Seeing the peaceful frames of the blueness

    Looking up high above

    I found myself again in Pasadena

    Lying on my back

    Seeing more trees and leaves

    Branches holding their treasures

    While I could contemplate 

    A peaceful time for my body

    While the sun alighted upon us

    Giving warmth, providing hope

    The trees of Pasadena

    Giving me some respite

    yet

    There are always 

    Worse circumstances, more terrible trials

    Such as the devastating fires

    Or earthquakes, of which I was shushed

    When I mentioned

    A week later those trees and leaves

    Are strained and possibly consumed

    By huge winds and flames of destruction

    The buds and branches that gave me peace

    Are now struggling to exist

    As do the inhabitants, seeing their homes

    Their possessions, all the dreams 

    Collected

    Now burnt

    Charred and discarded

    By winds and heat

    A week's difference

    Thousands of people had no idea

    Their trees, bushes, lawns, and homes

    Would be left

    in ashes.

    Some died

    Many more are left bereft

    Lost their valuables

    Their dreams

    Vanquished

    The higher ocean temperatures

    Caused bigger, warmer winds

    Small embers carry the flames

    That will not be forgotten

    For the lifetime

    of the Souls that it touched

    And overwhelmed

    Unlike the norovirus

    Which has done its internal damage

    and wrecked some moments for a short period

    But allowed us to make it through

    To be whole once more

    I dream of Los Angeles

    My years there, the beaches, the streets

    The hills, the harbors

    The traffic, the people

    

    Even celebrities and famous buildings

    Many sweet moments of nostalgia

    Restaurants and parties

    Barbeques and games

    Yet, now, the dreams have been ruined

    For the lack of water, the rise of air currents

    The forces of nature

    Have left many lying down

    Looking up to the faithful skies

    Pleading, praying

    Can we grow back what has been lost?

    May the trees and nature give us peace again.

    May it happen, L.A.

    We dream of being there.

    We beseech the Gods

    And God, for you.