At Once…

I saw a rainbow…

I tried to ignore its call…

It drew my eyes…

A running mirage…

I chased it through the streets…

The blues and reds compelled me...

I knew I could not catch its flight…

It smiled with violet eyes…

Rain stung my windshield…

Dancing in panicked swirls…

Laughing at my plight…

Chasing… but near…

Flashes of sun strobe my eyes…

Trees shield breath of yellow…

Hiding in the rays…

Dodging the prism drops…

At once, I was inside… full within…

My lungs inhale orange light…

Time stops and sound wanes a song …

My spirit floats in pools of green …

I stretched my arm into the winds…

Indigo water chirped my skin…

Wind driven… and accepting…

My hand a windmill of color…

I passed from its cocoon…

I feel my heart… now aware of time…

I turn to see its path behind …

Life’s gold within me still…

                             Shannon R Killman

Judgment Day

I traveled to a small town this morning to meet a client. I had to go to his workplace which was in a Family Court courthouse. I arrived just before nine in the morning… just before the activity of the day had begun. I walked passed a group of men… they were huddled together like teenagers. They were smoking nervously… chatting quietly. You could smell the thick residue in the air of spent smoke and cigarette filters.

I was patient as I was ushered through security. The metal detector seemed out of place. It was the only visible item of a modern era. There were police officers gathered by a small detention room. I peered through the glassed opening to see a woman sitting on a wooden bench. She looked dazed… her hair was unwashed and her orange jumpsuit was wrinkled and baggy. She sat chewing on her fingers… unaware or unconcerned that someone may be watching.

As I waited, I looked around. There were no smiles… there was no calm. There was a random energy that floated above the floor. The room was filled with ill-fitting clothing and denim. The women held their handbags close. The waiting area was filling up, so I claimed a seat next to a woman. She seemed uncomfortable and shifted her weight away from me.

There was group of attorneys collecting at another doorway… they were the only individuals that seemed to have a purpose. They were overdressed in this arena and I felt offended by their, perhaps unintentional arrogance. The judge walked through the room as if he was in a play. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone but I could tell that he knew all eyes were on him. His hair had been colored an unnatural brown. His shoes were glossy black and I wondered why there were no signs of wrinkles on his flowing robe. He barked at a bailiff as he passed through his doorway into the court.

I searched for anyone at rest… anyone at ease. I felt myself pulling the energy from the room and I shifted my legs. All eyes were down… there was worry pulling at the walls. A young lady quietly sobbed as her elderly mother held her head. Men shifted at paperwork… quietly rearranging their order. I found one person uninfected by this weight… a small infant that jabbed at plastic keys that hung from her mother’s tired fingers.

I left heavy-hearted. I pulled the outside air deep within my lungs and made my way back through the small town streets… pondering the welfare of so many unknown faces…

                                                                                            Shannon R Killman

I am Here...

I look for you when I need your touch…

I look for you when the world pulls to my spirit…

I look for you when I am lonely… and when it is quiet…

I look for you when I ache within… and when my heart is heavy…

I hear you in the breeze… and in the sunshine…

I hear you in the cool of the midnight sky…

I hear you in the dusk and in the dawn…

I hear you in the breath of my children… and in the calm…

I question when I fail… and when I’m weak…

I question when I need you most…

I will call to you… I will search for you…

I will be patient… I will listen …

I am here…

                                      Shannon R Killman

Papa

James M Driggers 1932-2010

I took a reflective drive out of town this-afternoon… I had an hour or so to think within myself . Last night I pulled a treasured gift off of the shelf. It is a small wooden box made by the hands of a craftsman. It was made of heart pine from an ancient tree that once stood in the forests of South Carolina. Its grain is straight and the color is familiar and golden. Time alone has preserved the fibers… time alone can yield this treasure…

Jimmy Driggers put this dovetailed box in my hands many years ago. By that time, I had gone from addressing him as Mr. Driggers to Mr. Jimmy to Papa. I remember I was at his home and after calling him Mr. Jimmy… he turned to me with his slight smile and said as only a Southerner can say, “Son, you can call me Papa like the rest of my children do”.

My little box has a wonderfully long-lasting finish to it. The usual finish to a wooden piece would be stain and polyurethane. Papa would have none of that. He had a love for quality furniture… enough that he started making pieces of his own. He made them with a craftsman’s eye and a craftsman’s touch. He would choose the correct piece of wood to intersect with others so the grains would run together… the attention was always in the details. He finished his furniture with linseed oil. The aroma is distinctive and classic. He explained to me that you must put several thin layers on the wood. Too much at one time and the finish would not last…

I re-examined the dovetailing… I re-examined the hinges and the clasp. I took the time to look at the grain and the color and tone of the wood. I rubbed my hands over the top knowing that Papa had done the same.

Papa taught without teaching… he watched us without looking. He heard our signals without effort. He knew instinctively when we were up to no good. He had a special relationship with so many people that came into his life. He showed patience with me. He passed on a love for the beauty in nature's gifts.

The last time I saw Papa, he was weakened by time… he grasped my hand and pulled me to him… he had the handshake of a much younger man. He looked up to me with his grin and patted my face with purpose. I wish I would have known that would be my last visit with him. There is so much I could have said and so much I could have asked…

When I got home this-evening, I dusted off my can of linseed oil and dabbed a bit on the fold of a soft cloth. I gently applied a thin coat over the wood of my treasured box and inhaled the memory of so many years…

                                                            Shannon R Killman

I’m From... by Jackson Killman

I'm from staying up all night, and loving not having to get up on summer mornings...

I'm from the green swaying grass of the soccer fields, practicing, running, dribbling, passing, scoring...

I’m from annoyance and irritation, driving my sisters to tears…

I’m from Gamecock football every September, cheering for my team…

I’m from the ocean, the beach, digging in the damp sand, looking for shark's teeth…

I’m from writing stories and poems, learning from my dad as he does the same…

I’m from watching the rain with my dad on the porch, with raindrops splattering at our feet…

This is where I’m from…

                                                                                                      Jackson Killman

Another Trip Around the Sun

I woke up this morning to the hugs and kisses from my little ones. I got up early and had my coffee … It was my birthday… so many years and yet so few. I had a busy day planned. I love my college football and today was going to be a great day to watch the games all day.

I got in my old jeep and made my way to a friends house… His father had fallen in his home earlier in the week and was in the hospital. Mike asked me if I could help him widen the doorways in his father’s home so he could easily maneuver his wheelchair through the house. I got to Mike’s and he was waiting on me as he usually is. His truck was filled  with lumber and trim. We loaded up my tools and made our way out of town.

I checked my FaceBook page several times during the day… smiling from the well wishes from my friends and family. We worked through the day and into the evening… the football games passed us by… the radio was silent as the saws and nail guns sang their tunes.

We pried off old lumber that had held tight for over thirty years… we trimmed sheetrock and added feet and inches to the doorways. We drank diet coke and water and we smoked Marlboro Lights… We ate take-out burgers and homemade fries… crank up the saws…

We worked under the inspection of my friend’s mother who adored every improvement we made. How wonderful it would be to see her husband able to get through the house with ease. She smiled and laughed with us the entire day. Mike wanted nothing more than to do something for his mother and father… I am his friend and there was nothing I wanted to do more than to help him.

I got home in time to see the last part of my favorite college team’s game… we won. I drove in the driveway that my children had decorated with driveway chalk… it was beautiful. I got texts and calls from my children that weren’t home. I had a wonderfully baked cake and a nice surprise gift… all good things…

I would say that I had a great day today. I don’t know if I could have planned it any better…

                                                                        Shannon R Killman

Morning’s Journey

There was a cooling aroma in the morning air. I drove through the country this morning on a slow pace in order to memorize my surroundings. I could feel the change in temperature as I drove into the lazy dips in the road that nurtured islands of swampy ponds…

I pulled into an overgrown driveway that still held onto leggy rose bushes that seemed to plead for my admiration. I looked up at a tidal wave of kudzu vines that towered over ancient oak and pine trees. They stood sentry around an abandoned farmhouse that had finally given into the kudzu’s trespass.

I crept through the weeded reminisces of the overgrown yard into a cotton field. The rows of plants stood chest high for as far as the misty morning would allow me to see. There was wetness in the air… I could smell the soil under my feet. The morning dew hung on the leaves of the cotton plants. The white tufts of raw cotton clung tightly to their leathery hulls.

I felt the water that wicked through my shirt onto my skin. The breeze cooled the air around my neck as I watched a black butterfly gallop across the tops of the sea of green and white. My eyes caught sudden movement from beside my head… a dull yellow maple leaf kissed my cheek on its targeted passage to the ground.

I caught it on my shoulder and held it between my fingers to use it to shield my hands from the wet plants on the way back to the Jeep. I pulled away onto the road and laid the leaf on the seat next to me. It nervously rocked from side to side as my speed increased.

… it took flight… I stabbed at the air trying to capture it once again. The leaf flew from window to window flapping with the sound of a dove’s wings. Finally in a burst of energy… it escaped into the winds.

I reflexively slowed to a stop as I watched it settle to the black pavement…  I stretched to exit my seat as a helpful gust of wind lifted it back into the air and into the teasing roadside grass.  I smiled a smile as I drove away on my morning’s journey…

                                                                    Shannon R Killman

I See Her Face

We gather in the football fields inside of tracks… behind fences in parking lots and in the school yards among the other parents. We are all here for one reason… to watch our little girls run. They run in the mornings before school. They run after school with the team. They run on the weekends… they run in the cool of the mornings and in the heat of the day. They run in their dreams.

The house smells sometimes of mint and heat-rub. We have ice packs in every cavity of every freezer. I could build a mummy’s costume from the rolls of ace-bandages. I have been pulled into her sport. I was a novice as a fan… I now know the times… the splits… the sprints and the strategies… and I know the competition.

Katelin was frightened and nervous when she ran her first race last year. We were crowded amongst a sea of people in our town’s streets. There we categories for men, women, old and young. She was young and long-legged… she was my little girl surrounded by 500 other runners. We pinned her number on and she made a place for herself on the edge… in the back. She looked back to see if I was watching her… I gave her a confident smile.

She finished her first race and the pain was all over her. She looked spent and she wobbled toward me. Her hair was like wet straw and her clothes were twisted and soaked. She limped to one side and was unable to speak. Her eyes were misshapen and I could feel her exhaustion. I came to her and held my arms out to support her and she laid into my side. I knew this would be her last race.

I was wrong. We hung around for what seemed hours. We didn’t know how she placed in the race in her age group. She placed second and they hung a beautiful award around her slender neck. She smiled a smile a mile wide and looked in my direction… I saw the fire in her eyes… she couldn’t wait to enter the next race. It didn’t matter the town… it didn’t matter the time. She was ready.

Katelin has run in every region in the state. She started in the back of the pack and she now runs in the front. Her stride has straightened and she floats across the field. She is my gazelle. She has found her love. When she runs by us while we cheer… through the pain and the breath… she looks into my eyes. It is brief and it is strong… I look for my girl and I see her face… and I see her soul…

Shannon R Killman

Perspective

When I started my day...my observations...

I woke up with a sharp pain in my shoulder this morning… It keeps me awake off and on… there is an aching pain that flashes through my right knee. I also cut myself the other day. Every time I rub my finger the wrong way, I get a burning sensation all the way down my finger… the bandages won’t stay on.

I’m in the middle of three different projects with work. A new customer is pressuring me to start as soon as we can on his house. I also have several rental homes that I maintain for another customer. They are all over town and I have to take half of a day to do the simplest of tasks… it’s not very profitable.

I got home and can’t believe I need to cut the grass again… the bushes could use a trim. It is so hot. I just don’t think I want to do it today… it will have to wait. I have a ton of projects around the house I need to complete. There are cabinets to finish… there is sheet rock and tile work to do in the addition. It always seems to pile up on me. I don’t like the pressure to complete it all.

The electric bill will be high this month because it has been so hot. The kids all need new shoes and cloths. The taxes are due on my Jeep… the house payment is staring me in the face… the water and the sewer bills are due this month…

… I looked into the eyes of a young mother today… she held her baby close to her breast. She rocked her sweet and innocent child to comfort him… She kissed him on his cheeks and touched his eyebrow with her loving fingertip. I watched her tucking in the folds of the blanket around him to keep him warm. We talked for a short while… it was difficult for her to take her eyes off of him. He is so young… so pure. She tries to comfort him through the night. She knows there is nothing the doctors can do for him… tonight could be the night… or tomorrow. There is no sleep for this mother… this nurturer… his life is out of her hands. There was nothing I could say to her… no words… no deeds… my smile was lost in her fears…

When my day ended... my observations...

I searched my thoughts... I can’t complain… I won’t complain. I am blessed to be able to greet my children with a kiss on the cheek in the morning and we will plan the day… we will talk of the week and day-dream of the month and the year… and of the future… and we will say a prayer for the innocent…

Shannon R Killman