A Mother's Holocaust

She looks at me as if nothing is wrong,

and in her mind, nothing is.

"It's just another play date,"

I tell her as we are separated at the gate.

She smiles and waves to the tall man

with the uniform of a killer.

I know this will be the last time I see her,

because she will not be assigned

a

number.

The Velcro Museum

The museum is dark,
you have to plug up the lamp first,
before you see the Velveteen Rabbit.
Then look at your bag that you lug
around. See the Velcro?
The Velcro Tevye used during the Sabbath.
The Velcro that helped The Wicked Witch say on her broom.
The Velcro on the shoes you wear near the fryer.
The Velcro that holds the moon
in the starry night sky. It's the Velcro
that held Hitler's army together
The Velcro that chained the slaves together
the Velcro that held the stories of the twin towers
the Velcro that was hidden in the walls of every New Orleans home
the Velcro that kept the Clinton's together.

Broken Brown Grass

I appeal to the eye and cut your fragile skin.
I seam harmless from a distance,
But I attract you and call you in.
I wait for your step, and stick to your foot
And laugh as I watch you cry out in pain,

I am not a gem,
I am not a stone,
I am thin, rough glass.
I shimmer in the sun,
And my glimmering color catches your eye.
For I am a piece of broken glass.

Untitled One

By Christolear and Walker "Texas" Kennedy.

The droning battle cry of thirsty men
they call for their mothers
while laying on the wet, damp
mud boats, peacefully sailing around the moon.
The eclipse turns everything into
dirt; colors all blend to one.
Soldiers die on by one by the
giant ant's leering gaze.
It walks not on ground, but on
quarpets, that float above the world.
Death calls them in and
draws them in their path.
The men march on into
the sea waiting on Death's yacht.
They get ready for
the sea to turn to their blood,
carcasses floating among the sea.
their lives and journeys end.

Labor Pains

I watched you from the dusty window.
I watched you from across the street.
The roar from the mower came through to me
above the chatter from the TV.
I wondered why you were outside,
playing in the fresh grass
instead of inside playing with me.
Your arms flexed as you pushed a car
across the church's front yard.
I tried to tell you,
'just let the grass grow'
but you didn't listen.
Years have gone by, and now I am you,
cutting my church's grass
to make the church look like new.

One Leads to a Thousand

Reach out your hand to those who need.
Hug those who are alone.
Give to those who have nothing to own.
Tell someone of Jesus who has never heard his name.
Start your mission, claim the name, Child of God.
It starts with one; It starts with you.
One leads to a thousand.
Lives will change, we will know His name.

June 7. 9 P.M. Eastern Standard Time

~Base on a true story~

The dark theatre filled with the applause of a thousand crazed fans as the touring cast of RENT took their final bows. Adrenaline rushed through my veins as I took one last look at Adam Pascal and Anthony Rapp before the lights were turned back up and the cast walked off stage.
“That was the most amazing thing ever,” I tell me mom with a sparkle in my eyes.
She smiles and hands me the brown bag of souvenirs we had bought before the show.
We walked slowly through the crowd and through the door of orchestra one.
“Look! A backstage person,” Mom points to a woman. “Let’s talk to her.”
“No,” I protest. Before the word even left my mouth, Mom was walking towards the woman. I followed after her relentlessly, but hopeful.
“Um, hello,” Mom said to the woman.
The woman stepped forward to us, pushing her blond bangs away from eyes. “Hey. Can I help you?” she asked, her thick, Australian accent surprising me.
“My daughter here,” Mom starts, “is RENT’s biggest fan. We drove eleven hours from Alabama to see this play.”
“Really?” the woman asked.
I smiled at her accent.
Mom lowered her voice to a whisper. “Is there any way you could let her backstage and meet the cast?”
“Mom!” I exclaimed.
The woman laughed. “I can’t do that. But, around the back of the building, under a green canopy, most of the cast come out and sign autographs.”
“Thanks!” Mom and I cheered. We ran around the building to find the green canopy.
We walked quickly through the crowd in hope to get just a glimpse of someone. We found an opening in the crowd and I inched my way up to the front.
“Stay off of the sidewalk!” a man in a tux yelled, trying to look FBI.
The crowd ignores him, only getting larger and expanding half way across the street.
Minutes later, the crowd cheered loudly as they saw the chick who played Maureen walk out of the door. She made her way around the circle, signing posters and taking pictures with fans. She got around the circle to where I was and signed my Playbill, Nicolette Hart.
Then, Anthony Rapp makes his way out of the door. The crowd jumps up and down and he smiles.
I watched him make his way around, signing posters and programs and copies of his book.
Hurry up and get here! Hurry up and get here, I think to myself.
He made his way around to my side of the crowd. My heart starts to beat a thousand times a minute and my knees started to tremble. Anthony Rapp inched his way in front of me.
I handed him my copy of his book, Without You, and watched as he autographed the title page.
Anthony Rapp is standing one foot away from me, I yell in my mind.
He hands me the book and reaches right over me to autograph someone’s program.
It felt like years had gone by and I wanted to say something to him just in case I never got the change again. “Have time for a quick hug?” I asked him cautiously.
He laughs. “Can’t. One leads to a thousand.”
That was all I heard before my senses shut down and I stopped hearing him.
He finished his autographs and stepped to the side to keep signing.
My brain clicked on. Picture. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and snap a picture while he was still one or two feet away.
Anthony Rapp finishes his autographs, and the FBI wannabe yelled, “That’s it! We are done!”
The crowd wined, but scattered off to live there lives.
Mom takes my hand and guides me through the crowd. My heard was beating faster than it ever had and slower than it ever had all in the same moment. I hugged Without You to my chest and peacefully rode home with the words, “one leads to a thousand” repeating in my head.