I know that there was nothing left at his house, but it broke my own heart to hear my own voice shatter the silence, "Oh my God... he's all gone."

 all.

The truth is that I just need to quit mourning this.

Divinely yours,

BETH

Freedom... freedom... of course!  I've had too much freedom for too long.  So this makes sense. And I said to the girl across the room, laughing at the reality, "Man isn't that the way life goes.  Just throw the shot back, man."  Then the whole room roared with laughter... at the reality. 

Divinely yours,

BETH

Sometimes I force myself to stop the whirlwind to remember.  This could be in the form of poetry, or photographs, or sitting in the blazing sun remembering the days of acquaintances... who are nothing anymore. 

Driving past an elementary school, the spring sky was settling over an empty play ground.  It was calm, as only Fridays are calm, and I pulled over to remember; to stop the whirlwind.

I think of when my brothers would spend mornings down at the rubber factory digging hundreds of Stretch Armstrong toys out of the dumpster.  I'd watch them line the dolls up and ride their bikes over them to see how easily they'd bust.  Then they'd sneak the rest of them home as toys for our dog, Molly.  Finally mom would throw them away because they'd bust open and the crap inside would litter the carpet and stick to our feet.

It seemed as if that was the hottest summer of my life.  Or it could be that the side of town we lived on was made completely of asphalt.  It was the summer of no shoes and bruised feet; mom yanking my head off because I would ride my bike with no shoes on; and then yanking my head off again because I'd lose my shoes in some gutter or pond.  It was also the summer of perpetual tagging-along.  And my memories are actually of watching my two bothers ride ahead, no hands, down 11th Street, trying to catch up behind them. 

Also the summer that, in retrospect, was the time that I should've realized I would never catch up with them.  

And it's only a calm Friday, as calm as Friday's always are, that I can climb from my broken car and swing on a playground alone.  Completely content with the pastel sky above me.  Oh well that my brother's didn't want to be bothered.  The truth is that, i tried to catch up for too long.

There's serenity it failure, I hear.  And we're only acquaintances anyway.

Divinely yours,

BETH

     It seems that my two sisters and I embrace simplistic pleasures... consequently, we are unable to spell the names of the exotic delicacies from other worlds... worlds that belong to other people.  So we laugh and look at our feet at the end of the bed, looking at perfection, and say "At least we know what hips are for.  Hips are everything.  Wide or thin, you know, it depends."

   Last night, while the rest of the world went to bed on a cool March evening, we sprawled across the sheets of a July night.  The lights were enemies, the candles were only friendly aquaintances... the conversation was the only thing we trusted to be the electric bonds of our three spirits.

   Several hours later, we turned over, a veritable pasta bowl of arms and legs and torsos... and slept in our order: Hannah, Beth, Shelly. 

   Hannah, the artist; Beth, passion; Shelly, natural femininity.

It's just who we are. 

It's just who we are.

And this is the world we own.

Divinely yours,

BETH

      the lights are so low that the dim reflection of flame on smooth skin makes my hips move slow, and smooth like the richest coffee from the moment the moon rises into the black sky until it drops behind the mountain... working a deep sweat only salvation can see... but there is no salvation for this temptation...

   the goddess in me screams for the god in you.

  Divinely yours,

BETH

I woke up thinking about him this morning and I know what will come of this in the end.

The submission in to perfect temptation.

Divinely Yours,

BETH

  In high school I had one teacher that contradicted everything my mother had taught me.  My own mother rocked me to sleep singing lullabies of Rosa Parks, Dr. King and Malcolm X.  Are you surprised? 

  I remember being infuriated when this plump, white man asked me why I had a poster of Malcolm X and Desmond Tutu hanging on my bedroom wall... "Why?" Not an innocent, inquisitive 'why,' but a genuinely incredulous, obnoxed, aggravated 'why'. 

  Here's why: Someone had to stand up.  Someone needed to offer a little anger (seeing as anger is an emotion PROVEN through psychological research to prolong life in a terminally ill patient), someone needed to offer a very direct vision. 

  I would never say that Dr. King is any less (which is what that teacher accused me of), however I am saying that "love your enemy" can only work for so long. 

  Then comes the time to fight.

  This poem was written in the 1960's and embodies the importance of Malcolm X.  

Brought here in slave ships

Love your enemy

Language taken away, culture taken away

Love your enemy

Work from sun up to sun down

Love your enemy

Last hired, first fired

Love your enemy

Rape your mother

Love your enemy

Lynch your father

Love your enemy

Bomb your churches

Love your enemy

Kill your children

Love your enemy

Forced to fight his Wars

Love your enemy

Pay the highest rent

Love your enemy

Sell you rotten food

Love your enemy

Forced to live in the slums

Love your enemy

Bitten by dogs

Love your enemy

Water hose you down

Love your enemy

Love,

Love,

Love,

Love,

Love, for everybody else,

     But when will we love ourselves?

Divinely yours,

BETH

My heart won't act normal and now I know I've made a mess of this situation.  Four hard beats, skip a beat, two quick beats, several normal beats... pulse is 130 at rest. 

Christmas shopping for the boys!  Skateboard!  Football!  Weird light!  Annnddd.... an 8 in 1 game table!  That was the most exciting for me because it was only $69.  It's gigantic and exciting and I bought an oversized bow for it.  I can't wait to see their faces.

It's really heavy though. 

Time to clean the house--

Divinely yours,

BETH

...a ghrá mo chroí...
 Scileann fíon fírinne

Tá mé air meisce

Tá mé ar buille!

Titim gan éirí ort,

Imeacht gan teacht ort!
Nil aon sceal eile orm
Ta se ro-lag
Ta an leaba,

Ta an briste...

Ta me i gcruachais...

Taim i gcruachais anois! 

 Ta se prainneach!

Ba mhaith liom an dochtuir

An feidir le heinne cuidiu liom?

 ...love of my heart...

 Wine lets out the truth,

and I am drunk.

I am angry!

May you fall on your face,

May you leave and never come home!

I don't have another story,

It is too weak.

The bed is broken,

The bed is dirty.

I need your help...

I need your help now!

It's an emergency!

I need a doctor,

Can anyone help me?

Divinely yours,

BETH

  Love is disguised as four girls, pressed together, staring at a sky as far away and unfathomable as our futures.  With our heads bent back, we searched desperately for something familiar in the stars.

  It was great to be together again.

 Divinely yours,

BETH