Diane Green

There's this poem about Craig 
Stalking me lately 
But I haven't written a word of it thus far, 
I reckon I don't trust its coyote paw prints 
Or it’s shadow moths kept in a jar.
I remember the day Rick Ivy called me 
And how I didn't even cry 
For Craig by then was right there beside me
Some shine tricksters never die.
It's a poem about the Ones, who ride the side Other, 
No one wants to believe what I see
On how I saw sweet Brady Green dancing 
In a Memphis cosmic sky-mist Xmas tree 
Or her face shining 1000x from the chapel door Exit 
How Aunt Elizabeth in her own wake smiled at me 
Something I could never fully describe.
It's the one that explains how it's really beyond words 
That I’d best make a painting instead
Some Ones have a way of living unspoken, 
Eternal visions remaining unread.
So a poem is no measure, 
For this that I owe you,
Nor dances, or paintings one-step beyond
It is the Light-show connecting the Love that you gave me
To others, when they come around.
Long after I left you without looking back
Your care kept me living a life above ground
Now you know that’s why I do what I do
You helped me back then so that I’d stick around
And be here for someone else too.