Soon come.
In Jamaica, this is a standard reply for any query involving how long. How long till we get there? Soon come. How long till my finger is ready? Soon come. How long till our taxi arrives? Soon come.
Since my (so far) only trip on my 37th birthday to that magical, beautiful, dangerous and scandalous place, the song that wrote itself in my head revives itself from time to time.
The answer soon come
The answer soon come
Don't waste your time waiting
The answer soon come
This has been a really long, tough period of my life. When I look back, there were seldom any easy times; and I am grateful for all of then.
I believe that I am the temperance card in tarot. The most beautiful, forged by repeated firing, folding, and hammering. I hope I've finally reached an acceptable level of crafting. I once asked the universe to make me a useful tool. Not long ago, I begged and cried to be released from that duty. I was.
I feel that I still have work to do. I've raised my children, badly. I was not the mother they deserved. Somehow, they all still love me and are fiercely loyal to me and each other. I can't help but wish I had done more to raise them better. I know I did the best I could, they are so wonderful... I wish thermally the happiness, success, good health and fruitfulness the world can give them.
I am nearing the end of my single mothering days. I have wrecked mahlons vision. I didn't mean to, he definitely set me up for failure, but I did. I burned my own work. I need to be over it.
I tried to help my brother, my parents, my sister's children... no use. I tried to help my partners, Doug is the closest I've gotten to any kind of positive response.
I'm ready to be who I am. I'm terrified. I'm afraid I have cancer, at worst, or some other chronic illness, at best. That has actually helped me give a fuck about me.
If I'm gonna go out, I want to leave my mark. I want to do work. I want to swim in the waves and teach the world to sing, and love fiercely, and be here. I want to exist. I want to matter. It's taken me years to shine through Betsy's shadow. And man, what a mark she left on everyone she touched. I feel like people forget me. I want to leave something. I want to leave my teaching, leave my understanding of music for others.
I want to leave recordings for my family and whoever else. I want to leave paintings. I want to share thoughts and ideas. I want to be open learning and experiencing new things until I'm not here anymore and I get to go home.
These last couple of years, I had more than one instance that I really thought I was dying. No
more squandering time.
Let me make my mark.
