Truth is Not Exclusive.

 012

 

Truth is not exclusive.

It is hidden everywhere in plain sight

It is visible at night.

It is never right and certainly never wrong.

It moves along

Meandering here and there.

 

Truth is not exclusive.

It can be told many ways.

With a burr or a lisp

As the tellers gaze

Reveals yet more.

Exclusive?

Never.

 

It can be told in many ways.

Many, many ways.

 

Lee Broom

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Healing For Returning Veterans

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Yesterday (or should I say night before last?) I posted about my recently waning health. A few hours later I was asked if I was ready yet to man my docent post at the Gallery@CityHall. I said yes and steeled myself for the occasion.

Fifteen minutes after my arrival the gallery which usually has no more than two visitors at any given time suddenly began to fill up. A man named Robert Braxton whose name and face were familiar to me from The Veterans’ Hospital in Phoenix AZ was in charge of this crew and with them was a lady psychologist who explained that this was a group of returning veterans whose mental and spiritual state was in bad disrepair and that it was Robert’s job to encourage them to start joining the community. It was the therapist job to get them ready for the series of events which would hopefully help them to assimilate.

From an email to my friends and family: “Great bunch of guys. Several were in pretty bad condition. All were enthusiastic to be a part of this PRRC program. All asked questions and discussed what they were learning about the lives of the two artists whose work was on display.”

It made me feel real again.

To all who have served, I salute you and thank you for your service. It was an honor to serve you yesterday.

I apologize

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Dear Readers,

I apologize for being remiss in my committment to make daily posts in recent weeks.

Last month I discovered  I had a lung ailment that was sapping my strength. At first I thought I had a bad cold but I was wrong. I am slowly getting my strength back and will begin posting again. On days that I am unable to write I will either invite other writers or in the absence of content will repost what seem to be the best of previous  entries.

Thank you.

Lee.

Space Dust

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How many millions are in a trillion?

How many leaves in a forest?

How many souls exist in forever?

How many came before us?

 

Where is it written?’ Where are the answers?

Where is the heavenly Chorus?

When did the Big Bang Beget the beginning?

Is the answer there before us?

 

What if I told you I knew all along?

What if you held a Thesaurus?

A new interrogative might have an answer

Or perhaps it would simply bore us.

 

By Lee Broom

“I feel like CRAP!!!” Part Four.

012

Crap is a feeling

Its been two weeks)

The fever still with me

My body reeks

Of sweat

And Swelter

But today I crapped

Hurray.

 

But the fever and the chills

Seem here to stay

Bring on the pills

The aspirin

The chicken soup.

Today

Is the day

To get well.

Go tell

The birdies.

There are quail in my garden and a wren on the patio eating the crumbs I spilled at breakfast.

How healing is that?

How healing is that?

 

By Lee Broom

“I feel like CRAP!!!” Part Three.

004

Priorities

 

 

When I awoke that morning I looked in the red tray where I place my black cell phone at night. It was not there. Nor was it in any of the other places where I have discovered it on previous occasions. I now have several red saucers scattered about upon which to rest the black phone which has in the past been hard to find, considering the convenience offered by camouflaged resting places on the black leather furniture in my home.

I tried once again to reconnect Magic Jack which for three years has been a dismal excuse for a telephone service and succeeded only in reliving an old resentment.

I put out an email request to friends and family to call my cell phone , waited for half an hour and then left to do my radio show for which there was no replacement and decided to call the people to whom I had committed myself for the rest of the day. And, then I realized that my only storage of the necessary phone numbers was in the missing cell phone.

I dealt with this second hindrance by reprioritizing the remaining events of the day.

I traveled to the radio station, recorded that night’s show and began my trip on Highway 101; I would drive the thirty miles from Tempe to Pinnacle Peak, announce to those with whom I had planned to share the day, how or if they were still on mt itinerary..

Thirty minutes later I dealt with a third roadblock to success. I had been driving at 70 miles per hour when the left front tire blew out. I experienced no fear. I dealt with the problem like a trained Indy driver. I then sat there in the sweltering 104 degree temp which I hardly noticed. My focus was on the policeman or fellow citizen who would come along with a cell phone so I could call AAA. Two police cars whizzed by. Just as it occurred to me to attempt a tire change with a body still in discomfort from the ills of recent weeks, two Samaritans pulled up and offered to help. I replied that I needed a cell phone to call AAA.

“Nonsense” said Mike from Texas.” I and my friend Jeff from Nebraska will change the tire.” And they did.

“I feel like CRAP!!!” Part Two.

004

“I feel like CRAP!!!” Ode to Sandy 5/10/2013

Last month a friend of mine in Livonia MI wrote to me to describe how she was feeling. She had a variety of phrases to describe the pranks that an unidentified virus was pulling. She ended by stating that the most accurate description after all was “I feel like CRAP!!! I wrote her a poem about her experience complimenting her on her choice of words.

And now it is my turn. For two weeks I have been wrestling with a variety of symptoms, some of which indicate one problem, some another and another and another. And I agree with Sandy;………. I feel like CRAP. In earlier days I would have curled up with a bottle of scotch. Today my choice is a word processor, a heating pad and a Prayer of gratitude. If you didn’t read it last time I offer you………….. “I FEEL LIKE CRAP!!!!

Crap is a feeling.

Feelings are good.

It’s when we don’t have them

(And know that we should)

That we worry.

But you’re still here in the neighborhood.

You’re sweaty, impatient

Your ready to kill

You want to fight

And you take your pill

So swallow

Wash it down

And wallow.

Laying there in those stinky bed-clothes

With bugs galore

Though Goodness knows

You are almost well

And you know.

Because you feel like CRAP

And that’s a feeling.

(Wow, I feel better already.)

By Lee Broom.