an old writer and his words

  • FOOTHILLS

    The clouds well upover the foothillscasting a gray pall,bearing the angry spiritsof the chindi who danceamid the scrub juniper.Brother Serra, was thiswhat you found, wanderingalong the coast, tendingthe odd sheep, Indianand whatever elsecrossed your path? The blue birdhopping across the dried grassespuffing its grey breastplate and capesitting back, its long tail feathersa perfect counterbalance.It stares…

    Lou Faber

  • ON LOSSES

    By the way, the headstone is lovely,designed by your niece, it pays tributeto you as aunt, as sister, as friend. I do wish it had said mother as wellbut I know I’m the one secret you thoughtwould fit into a corner of the pine box,buried with you, to be, like you, reclaimedby the rocky soil…

    Lou Faber

  • EYES HAVE IT

    It is the eyes that fall in love,the heart that follows likean always faithful shadow,and the mind and reason thatare bound to darkness and silence. That is what I learned in my dreamlast night, or my recollection of it, for dreamsmay fade in the sharp light of morning. But dreams have a potent magic, a…

    Lou Faber

  • PHOTOGRAPH

    I saw a picture of you today, althoughI can’t be certain when it was taken,and while I can easily say that youlook exactly as I remember you,that is saying nothing really,for moments after I took the picturewe said goodbye to each other,intending to meet again, knowingthe chances of that were minuscule. I have returned your…

    Lou Faber

  • LESSONS

    The most important lessons he taughtwere in those moments when he wasabsolutely silent, the smile acrosshis face shouting across the backgrounddin of everyday life, his eyes widewith a sort of childish awe that I hadlong since given up as adolescent. The child sees everything for the first timeregardless how many times she hasgazed at what…

    Lou Faber

  • ABIDING

    The dawning sun brings forth the birds’morning chorus, their song glidesthrough the windows, no wordsare needed, their meaning heardand through it all, morning simply abides. We are left to shelter within, to girdourselves against the unseen tidethat has washed over us undeterred,rendered all once normal absurdand through it all, morning simply abides. We cannot change…

    Lou Faber

  • A VISIT

    I’ve always imagined that one of these nightsI’d see my mother’s ghost. I would welcome the sightwelcome she that bore me, not she that stepped inin a way,absolving my birth mother of her sin,while assuming adopting me would make her complete. She hasn’t visited yet, neither has done so,but I hold out hope, it is…

    Lou Faber

  • DEFLATED DREAMS

    when did youthful dreamsslip awayerodeget consumed byparentsteachersor simply abandoned reality, yourstheirs a poor substituteall edgesand pointspiercing hope love once (a) givenrendered faint hopeworse, impossible dreamdelusion? you wantto think notwant so muchcan’t havebad for youwe know goodwhen we give itnone for you timepast sogrow up

    Lou Faber

  • IF ONLY A BULL

    In our family Murphy was a god, and his law was the eleventh commandment. I often wanted to ask at what moment my childhood ended. Had to be before my twelfth birthday, before the day on which I went from greeter at one of my father’s business parties in our oversized family room, to bartender,…

    Lou Faber

  • INSIDE, UNSEEING

    I’ve been trying to discover howit is that those inside the beltwayelected to office, or workingfor those who were elected,have all sense of irony (andin some cases. civility) erased. How else to explain that for manythere can be no climate changewhile the nation they serveis bearing its cost, climatologicallyand in discourse and diversity,and still they…

    Lou Faber