tribute to the writings of Christopher Poindexter. Part III

“Do you feel that?”
She asked as we watched
the stars and moon illuminate
the sea before us.
“Tell me you feel it?
that longing to not just exist,
but to live and to live beautifully?”
I, with a smile filled with so
much truth it could move
the clouds, said to her:
“Of course I feel it. The heart
in you, is the heart in me.”

“Love is many things and
sometimes we are never
really sure if it even
exists, but all I know
is that if you were to
show me her soul
in a photograph,
I wouldn’t even ask
To see the others.”

And in the end…or actually in the beginning…

“She wiped the black spilling
from her eyelashes onto her cheek,
and in that moment, I wanted, I
needed, for magic to exist.
I wanted to peel back her lonely
skin and feel her sadness stare
straight into the blue inside my eyes.
I wanted and I needed it to know,
that I, I loved her too, and my god
I, I would fight for her.”

“…I knew in that moment
that it is and it will
always be the simple things
that plant the most
phenomenal truths
inside us.”

A few months ago, I had the privilege to witness a few moments in the beautiful living of a necessary love story. I was at a shopping mall and I watching a married couple in their 70’s. I noticed she had a small, simple vintage diamond ring. She also had a walker. He was hunched over. They stopped for a moment to talk about their Younger days. He got a cart. She giggled as he helped put her walker in the cart, and then tenderly swept a wisp of white hair from her face. And off they went, so very slowly down one of the aisles, arm in arm. But not before they kissed each others hands and smiled at each other.


tribute to the writings of Christopher Poindexter. Part II

It is not so strange that what is real and necessary should frighten us so. Especially this, this most necessary of things that allows no dishonesty, no deception…that throws us naked into a complete trusting of ourselves and another…while the whole world, our bad experiences and statistics shout that it can not be…that we do not deserve such beauty, joy or peace…that we are broken and sick, and must resign ourselves to the fact that all we can hope to find are shatterings of ourselves.

“You want me to be completely honest?
I, always, have been terrified
of love. To slow dance with bliss
and the prevailing chance of complete
misery. Knowing that, it will either
save me or it will cripple me.
For if there is one thing beautiful
in this crumbling world: It is love.
The curling of souls.
But god, if there is one thing
horrific in it, too,
then it is mostly surely loving
something with your entirety
only to have it all vanish
away within the hit
of a second.”

Love Story-”Necessary and Beautiful.”

  • A tribute to the writings of Christopher Poindexter.

I am quite certain there is only one. The same one in all the lives and movies and books and letters. The same one that fits the experience of all human beings who stood with their own profound loneliness, allowed themselves to experience the fullness of their own terrible fears, and crossed beyond all that…because of all that…to embrace true love.

We don’t all arrive in this world in a cradle of connection and peace. I’m not sure anyone does. What I know for sure is that we all struggle in our own ways…with demons real and imagined, with brokenness, with restlessness and impatience, with questions for which often there are no answers except the asking of more questions and the finding of that delicate balance between the mystery and the certainty we need in order to live in the world.

So then, how does one find words to describe that beautiful and necessary love story which is the only thing that can enable us to, once again, become what we are in essence………which is Love.

Often, we find that description in the gift of another’s words…words that mirror our own voice and experience. I found such words just the other day in the quotes and poems by Christopher Poindexter. We can switch names, swap “he” for “she”, blue eyes for brown or green, the sea for meadows or mountains. It makes no difference. In the end, it’s the same story.

And it begins with discomfort, loneliness and fear, the fundamental struggle…

“I am filled with things and I battle feelings
I have never wanted to exist inside of me.
I lack too much confidence and I carry too
much sadness and my body is full of stars
that never learned their name. I wear my
insecurities like pockets and I fill them
with my fears and my hands are growing tired
from reaching down into them to hold the
feeling of being afraid. I am afraid. Always
afraid. Afraid like chimes when the winds lips
are sealed. Afraid like your eyes when the stars
fall asleep in the black. Afraid like dreams
when they realize they are just dreams and that
reality is that one scar that will never
fade away.


Broken Promise.

You told me you loved me

I told you i loved you too

You said together we would always be

I said i would be true

You promised you would hold me

And you promised you would be there

I promised i would cross the stormy sea

To give you my love and care

But you never kept the promise

It isn’t the way you used to be

You just gave upon us

And you just gave upon me

You said let’s take a break and

You said let’s just be friends

But please for my sake

Just tell the truth, coz this is end.

You promised every moment

That you would be there

Here is the moment

You tell me where are you

You promised to me

that we would have our love

You promised to me that

I would be you’ll always think of

But you are now walking away

saying ‘lets just be friends’

That is the way you made my heart break

Your way of saying ‘this is the end’

Then why did you make a promise you couldn’t keep

Then why did you make a promise you wouldn’t live upto

Then why did you make a promise that was so fake

Then why did make a promise which cuts my soul