Tag Archives: love

6:41 AM ~ poem

 

Early AM Light - Providence, RI - August, 2016 - photo credit - Jessan Dunn Otis, Writer\

 

 

 

 

6:41 AM ~ poem

In this early morning, break-of-a-new day light

In this cooling, new-day air

I could live

forever.

 

(c) poem and photo credit – Jessan Dunn Otis|Writer – August 30, 2016

Advertisements

Meeting Alan – A Veterans Day Memory – 2015 – essay

Stars and Stripes

Stars and Stripes

How Alan and I met is a short, surreal film. Walter Reed Hospital, January, 1970. Walking through miles of connecting corridors to find his ward. Once there, (in the older part of this hospital), two long rows of beds, his the last on the right; and, he was asleep. I waited in the solarium adjacent to that ward, just around the corner from his bed. Another injured vet rolled his wheelchair ’round the corner.  He had no legs, missing just above both knees. He had a soft, Southern drawl. We talked, on and off, for almost an hour. Every once in awhile he’d wheel back, check and say, “No Ma’am, he’s still sleeping.” He and I were about the same age.

I was visiting, unannounced and completely unknown to Alan, delivering several copies of the Brown Alumni Magazine, in which was a beautifully written article by the Editor, Robert A. Reichley, about Alan and a fellow alum, both of whom had served in Vietnam, had been wounded, and wound up next to each other in that ward in Walter Reed.  The other alum had since been discharged.  Alan’s people were far away; and, he was alone.  I also brought the review copy of a first novel, My Main Mother, written by another fellow alum, Barry Beckham.  At that time, I worked for that magazine; and, my former spouse (a visual artist) was having a show in DC.

Just the walk through the corridors continues to be singularly memorable. Too many wounded. Not enough beds. Broken men, bandages, various body parts missing, unexpected sounds, unusual smells. As a younger woman, I made eye contact, said “Thank you.” and kept asking for further directions to get to that ward.

After he finally woke up, Alan and I talked for over three hours. We have sustained our friendship since. Operations. Healing. Law school. First marriage. More unexpected injuries from a lawnmower and a flying rock. Children. Divorce. Second marriage. Children marrying. Grandchildren.

Alan and I talked several days ago. We recalled (again) the circumstances of our first meeting and all that’s happened to each of us since. I recalled that piece I told him I would write once I got just the right words to describe the quality of light at the time he was hit. I mentioned it was finally finished. He didn’t even ask to see it. He knows he will.

There is no pain in these memories.  There is nothing but love, honor, and respect.

This, also, goes out to my mother, Helen, and my father, Mahlon; both of whom served in World War II.  Dad was awarded the Purple Heart. I have both their flags.  Until we meet again…

DISSOLVE – poem

As when you touch yourself for the first

time inside and out

Or when you have left without saying goodbye

for the last time and you do not know it yet

Like walking into a dark room where everything

is known and you are excited that

something alive and beautiful will brush

your face

Or I am the long tree whose branches

move gently wild from the wind

and leave marks on your face

that you will remember when you dream

and you will go back to stare for days

until your eyes ache

Like arms that nobody who has ever loved you

has had before or has held you more strong

than you will ever be held again

And you will weep because you know that

that is true.

(c) Jessan Dunn (DeCredico) Otis – 1985/1987 – CQ, California State Poetry Quarterly, Spring-Summer 1987, Volume 14, Number 1, p.11.

At This Time of the Turning of the Year – essay

At This Time of the Turning of the Year – essay

At this time of the turning of the year my thoughts go in two directions – turning back and turning forward.  Simultaneously, I stand exactly where and as I am in this moment.

Turning back, 2014 has been another year of continuing to become accustomed to not being able to hear my youngest sister’s laughter, to share a story of our adventures and expectations.  Until we meet, again, Genevieve – I love you and miss you, BabyGirl.  Your children and I will tell stories to your grandchildren of growing up together and of your gentleness and loving ways – part of your legacy.

2014 has, also, been a year of good, sometimes challenging, professional and personal work for me.  Collaborating with clients to create custom-crafted content, strategies, buffing and polishing existing content until it shines and communicates exactly, mentoring and more.  Good folks.  Good work.  Thank you for your confidence and continued support.  My special thanks to Adam J. Kovitz, an extra-ordinary Friend and collaborator.  Get this guy!

My personal work continues to shift, evolve, change, as it has since 1985.  My gratitude to all poets and writers who came before me is steadfast and enduring.  A particular nod of the head must go to Michael S. Harper, 1st Poet Laureate for the State of Rhode Island, through whose work, counsel, teachings and friendship I have been (and continue to be) enlarged, challenged, humbled, sustained.  Thank you, MSH.

Gratitude, also, for the blessings of love from my three SweetMen – Al, Sandro and Ces.  You enrich and sweeten my life; and, are loved more than you know.

In contrast, there were parts of 2014 that I would wish I never witnessed nor experienced.  Continued killings, hatreds, viciousness, turmoil, senseless slaughters, ongoing acts of unkindness.  Heartbreaking.  Destructive beyond all measure.  Repeating history.  Lessons not learned.

Once again I ask myself: “What is my part in this?”  I ask you: “What is your part in this?”

And, so its continues to go – another month turned, another year passes.

At this time of the turning of the year, I remember, rejoice, reflect and rejuvenate.  May the blessings and joy of loving and being loved by someone somewhere follow and sustain you throughout 2015.  May all your troubles be little ones; and, the wind always at your back.

#Happy2015

~ Jessan