No poetry here – just an opinon piece.

My busy life has me under its thumb right now. I hold a trusted position at the company I work for. In the last year we have lost a few people. These folks were vital to this business. If we add up all that we have lost over the past two years or thereabouts, it’s easy to see how the company has changed. We all still have a mournful heart for our most recent losses. Most of us keep them in mind and carry the legacy of who and what they were along with us through our time.The company’s time, however, is coming to an end soon. Though the timing never seems right for such things, it seems to me that it is as right a time as one can expect for this to be happening.

It’s part of what I must do to slowly archive our records,
whittle down to those things truly vital to the company.
We’re moving to smaller digs. Same building, but the other side has a smaller office space. We’re cutting hours and we’ve already cut some employees. I’ll soon be cutting more employees. A handful of us with reduced hours will transfer over to the new office space. Files upon files of documents and data must be put into storage. I’m gathering bids for our warehouses full of used tools and equipment. I’m searching for others we can sell used office equipment to, and I’m handling the logistics of making sure that the services we need are smoothly transferred over to the new office. I’m involved up to my eyeballs in everything from having the new location’s carpets cleaned and walls painted to migrating data and phone/fax and internet services over to the smaller offices in the suite next door.

All the while, there are some hefty things going on in the ol’ personal life. To top it all off, there are still my own dental visits, my son’s coming eye surgery, and the knot-in-the-stomach feeling of that loss of balance that comes with the loss of somethings I was secure in.

Sunday evening, while making supper, I scalded my left hand. Second degree burns – according to the emergency room doctor. Years ago I worked for a company who was the sole distributer in the North East for a product called Water-Gel. It’s an amazing product. In any case, all of us in the company were given some sample packages and an emergency kit. All these years I’ve kept it, thankful that I never needed it – until Sunday. I remembered it and applied the product; which is in a pouch that contains the gauze which acts to bring the Water-Gel to the wound. (If you WEAR the stuff – which can be done by use of a Water-Gel blanket – you can walk through the fire, cradle a baby under it, and you’ll both walk out unscathed.(as long as the floor and walls hold up) You won’t even feel much of a temperature difference. After a burn, this remarkable stuff pulls the heat away and starts the healing immediately. I was told that using it when I did saved me from worse burns, and may even allow the wounds to heal more quickly. We would know in the next few days. Well, that was Sunday. This is Thursday. The healing is amazing. There are a couple of spots where the burn was more severe than the rest, but the pain is gone and there is only a bit of discoloration. Some of the skin on one of my knuckles cracked the night of the burn, and other areas where the burn was at its most severe are now a bit dry – kind of like a plastic, but the feeling is there, and it isn’t so bad. It took my hand out of service for a day, wrapped up like a mitten, but after that, I used sterile cotton gloves and the cream from the emergency room that they sent me home with. I’m nearly fine, and it’s less than a week.

I watch in sadness as some pressing family happenstances take a negative effect upon my grandsons. I know – deep down – that this too will pass and they will recover. But for now, it hurts to see their emotional struggle with the push-me;pull-you stuff that one side of the family leverages against another side via the children.

The political and legal system here is failing. There are distinct leanings toward socialism. History shows us that, eventually, Fascism comes from Socialism. There is less than little I can do to effect the outcome, and it leans on me. My hideaway place calls to me daily – a retreat from the errant ways of a foolish, pig-headed, greedy and near-sighted political system. Someone in that clique thinks in terms of “let them eat cake”, never understanding that this quote was not a noble thought, but one of greed and disgust of the people. Our defacto royalty is our politcos, and they paint the gay colored dress of doing what they do to be helpful and provide the “right thing” for the masses.
They are ALL part of the 2% – those of the populus who control 90% of the wealth. They exempt themselves from uncomfortable rules and laws, and they grant themselves pay raises above and beyond the call based upon money values. Then, they pay themselves with an ever increasing debt, by money that has not yet been printed; mortgaging the future of us all, but mostly of our youth. It is two degrees from anarchy and even closer to socialism than regular folks want to admit. In fact, we already have socialism in certain of our policies.
Texas talks of succession from the union. I’m considering becoming a Texan.

So – the weight of my small world leans upon me. I have allowed it, and contributed to it, and now, cannot escape it.

This is my release. This, and a site in a rural spot, more at home in the world of 1950 than of today. A place where not everyone had a phone, a tv, regular electric…
It’s a place where I am free to roam the rooms of my mind, and take up soft and loving silhouettes with a man, a soul mate; who, as the words imply, is cut from a similar cloth, and the differences are what accentuate and excite.

I can see how some can create a departure from reality with such a thing – and guard against the black dog that would inject his will at one’s weakest – closing the door into a hard but true reality in exchange for the comfort of that place, that time, that touch.  Such things must be settled for in mind and upon occasion. But, ah, such possibilites call…


…passed this way – Lin Cava

…passed this way
-Lin Cava

Ah, my dear one…
Will we never learn?
Does time and trial
teach us no lessons?

Or, are we immune,
ever blinded by proximity –
too close to gather the truth
to spin a skein of knowledge
strong as silk
and just as soft?

Time decides for us
when we are late to act.
For nature cannot wait,
and must move on.

And time has come and gone –
for what was once an open door;
was once opportune for the moment,
has softly closed and locked in place.

And the hands of time
have latched all but the memory
of what might have been…
The windows are barred;
frosty with the coldness left behind.

Through the silence
of a world hushed
by the snow of indifference,
a heart soundlessly freezes
and breaks.

A Child’s Domain

A Child’s Domain


Armed with toy sword and shield

He goes outside to play

His faithful steed, Abby the dog

Will serve him well, today.


He runs in circles about the yard

And behind the wide oak tree

Searching to the East and West

For wherever the enemy may be.


Something moving gets his attention

A daddy long-legs scurrying by

In his mind, takes enormous proportion

“I slay you, giant spider, die!”


He stabs into the air with his sword,

At the long legged monster he sees there

Running away to avoid the great topple

To surely escape from both spider, and lair.


So he continues to brave great adventure

To conquer all challenges to his domain.

Boldly he stands, sword held high

When sadly, the game is called, due to rain.


Lin Cava©



Christmas Magic

Christmas Magic

Every year, at Christmas time
I go about the season’s work
set up the tree, trim the walls
tuck the gifts in colorful wrap.
I put up lights, clear the decks
and cook – how I cook – the season’s treats.
The focus of the holiday
is for those I love, it’s clear –
especially the children
whose smiles fuel my cheer.
When the gifts have all been placed
the family sound asleep,
the lights upon the tree turned off –
Christmas Eve – belongs to me.
There are no dreams of Santa Claus
Nor thoughts to what’s beneath the tree,
For, dear one, Christmas Magic
brings you ever close to me.
No matter what the weather,
Not snow or freezing hail,
will keep me warm inside the house
where stars that whisper, cannot call.
Christmas stars have magic
as I have often seen
and bring the breeze of other lands
where life is warm, and green.
I don a pair of slippers,
steal outside, my eyes look up for change,
to let the magic come
and as I watch; those sky-lights rearrange.
The Northern Star has faded,
and Ursa Major is not there tonight.
Transported to another sky –
the Southern Cross is there, alight.
Though it may be freezing,
No cold pierces my gown so fine,
no snow melts on my face –
instead, warm breezes fresh with lime.
And ever I feel a presence,
just over my shoulder and behind,
the scent of you, comes over me,
not merely frame of mind.
For the ones we cannot be with
those ever on my mind,
for those, always loved and ever kindred,
by Christmas Magic, there for me to find.
And you, my dear one,
whom I will always seek,
I feel the need to join two halves
to make the whole complete.
A single dance, encircled in your arms
complete the touch we seldom share,
and all the season’s charms
A wordless act of love, before the Magic is not there.
Christmas Magic – comes but once each year,
On that night you’re always near,
and though, unplanned it calls to me,
I cannot explain it, or its single, joyful tear.
-Lin Cava