Flares of Warmth

The scholars of ancient times have pondered upon your path… yet they are not alone. My young child questions your strength and wonder as she peers through squinted eyes.

I search for the bonds I have between myself and the people of the past…. the desire to love… the quest for growth and understanding… what gift has been given to us all… to warm and fuel our flesh?

I close my eyes to ponder the perfection of the Great Garden... the beginning of life and of thought… the perfection and uniformity. A new day began and the canopy of life was lit as the creatures of the night paused to reflectively check their chronometers.

Your life’s source is pushed into our realm and thrust upon our brows. Men have tried to tame your power throughout the millennia… but we are forced to await your next appearance on the other side of our horizon.

As I peer across the sands, I see the reaction of the earth from your trespass. The invisible waves of energy that glide their way back to their source only rehearse the play that my ancestors watched through their eyes.

I feel great comfort in knowing that the same sun that shown flares of warmth upon the face of my Lord as He walked upon the earth, falls also upon my cheek. It will also, after my departure, warm the soul of my offspring.

Shannon R Killman

The Elements

The torrents of wind pull the flavor of your vision within my lungs. I am swept with the anticipation of your arrival. I envision our time together like nature’s release of wind and water upon our earth. We are swirled together like the dance of a spring breeze and quickly rise in a funnel of gusts… feeding off of each other's strengths into the endless sky.

We both know nature’s ways are unpredictable and unsure… but the rise in our spirits drove us further… burning one to another in an untamable union.

Each drop of rain is created from a microscopic beginning… gathering form and mass. This struggle upon high pulls at gravity’s force until the drop of nature’s water falls free and achieves its freedom.

The power of a storm is filled with beauty, calamity and calm… each phase in equal proportions to the other.

The winds of our love are high and are pushed through the air and are drawn to the ground. If we struggle to the end and pull together our desires, we too will meld in the task. Don’t forget I too scare of the path in which we have chosen. However, the choice is yours… if we do not ride the winds together… we will fall to the earth apart.

Shannon R Killman

Gift of Mortality

Life with its rotational tides rushes by with undulating speed. We fall into the snares of complacency without the presence of thought to our senses.

We share with one another, our lives, but fail to rest in the moments of peace… the time when the most common of our senses seems receptive.

In the moments of creativity… of taste and smell, within the breath of life and the sights of love, the Angels peer upon us and move in wonder among the creatures before them.

If our angels stand in wonder over us, as magnificent as the Creator has made them, should we not be still for a moment and absorb the gift they afford us?

They live for eternity…but we have been given the gift of mortality… and of choice…

Shannon R Killman

A Catching Moment

All of the events of my life have pulled me toward this moment in time. The paths that we have walked and the bridges that we have crossed have led us through the events of our life.

We have loved each other in a way unrecognized by any other… a reflex where our lives and thoughts can no longer be distinguished as separate. We have become more one, than two.

Take a moment to peer into the quiet darkness and feel, in the breeze, the kiss of my arms as they surround you in your thoughts. The details of our routines will pass us by and will blow to another season. But, the fullness of my love for you will surround your every moment.

I will be the quiet whisper you hear in the purr of our children as they absorb the warmth of your breast. I will be the comfort you feel in the dawn in that instant before you are aware of consciousness.

I will be in the sound of your heartbeat when you hear the movement of your breath in the darkness. When we are old and you think that my love has faded… I will be the spark of light that throws itself upon you from the eyes of our offspring.

In a catching moment, when I can feel you in my daydreams, I inhale the air to hold the flashing memories for just a moment longer and am saddened by the necessity to exhale.

I will be there when you take a moment to seek out the quiet as you peer into the memory of your soul.

Shannon R Killman

Culinary Essentials

All of our collective personalities are a direct reflection of our family histories. All the influences that impact our daily lives have been passed down through generations of our family tree.

When we look into each others eyes, we see the souls of our ancestors that have dotted themselves all through our lives. These beginnings carried with them the essentials of life.

Shelter... water... love... God... food...

We flip through the worn and stained edges of our family recipe books and papers for a glimpse to the past… the past that will lead our emotions into the future with our children and our families.

I remember the bustle of activity in my Great-grandmother’s home while she rolled tamales as aunts and mothers dashed around with giggling hearts following her every instruction. The sound of plates clinking in the background and water running in the sink stay with me…

I can feel the warmth of the desert sun spilling into the front window of my Grandmother and Grandfather’s home-place. Grandfather would be smiling in only the way he could smile. My Grandmother would be busy on the old cast-iron stove finishing his breakfast plate by adding a spoonful of his favorite watermelon rind preserves.

At meal time the air was always heavy with love. We gathered on stools, on chairs or on a mat… around tables in the kitchen or in the living room. All around were the sounds of life. I close my eyes to try and fill in the details. I only wish I would have slowed to allow myself to collect the portion of time I search for…

Shannon R Killman

In Search of My Horizon

Where has it gone? The time, concern, love, patience and caring. My eyes are heavy with heat and with ire.

As in a dream, I impale our history upon the front of my memory. And as in a dream, we are in a different place and time. The clouds of time have swept themselves upon the firmness of my footing and pull my weight to one side.

I peer into my surroundings as an outsider or as a visitor. As I cross the threshold of my adopted home, I pause to question my path.

My past races to me and pushes the loved ones away from my beating pulse. When I am alone, I am lonely to the core. I can weep with out shame and curse without consequence. I am safe… safe from the rejections of my companions.

The blaze of the Sun will rise and fall according to its plan… and I will search for my horizons.

I dare not wish for control over the sleeping mind… for the clouds that once swept my feet from under me, may return on their own and steady my pace once again.

Shannon R Killman

the Case

I look around this room, with its new wallpaper and bedspread and know that his too will be hard to get used to. Where can I put my “case”? Here… right here on this table. I know they won’t mind if I keep it here. I can always see it… always touch it.

It’s quiet and I can hear the voice of my Grammy. She speaks in a gruff whisper. “Sonny, you know that Grammy can’t take care of you anymore, but I went and bought this case for you and filled it full of love and dreams. Keep it with you… and one day when you have pulled out all of the dreams and all of the love, you will be a man and won’t need anyone to look after you anymore”

My case is worn and tattered now. I bet we have seen a hundred new places. But one day, after my birthday, I’m going to be a man and will start putting love and dreams back in my case.

I used to hate that old “case”. It reminded me that my home was taken away from me. I used to kick it and hit it… hoping it would go away. They would take me and put me in a big, dark car and take me to eat sandwiches. Sometimes I would be asleep and they would wake me up in a new place. When we would walk up to the door, I would turn back to see that big car… and a woman would be carrying that “case”.

People would smile and pat my shoulders and push me off to a quiet place. There I would be… me and that old case. Everything I know is in that case. It’s the only thing that I can return to. After a time or two, when I looked back to see that big car, I made sure they didn’t forget my friend… the case.

I tried to run away one time and I tore all the stuff out of my case… it was so heavy. But, I held on and drug it down the street. After a while, I didn’t know where to go. No one looked happy and I was scared. I pulled my case tight to me and remembered my Grammy. I took the buckle loose and tried to get all the dreams and love I could get out of it. Those people came and got me and my Grammy was right… I’m going to be all grown up one day and I can start putting dreams and love back in.

That old man… I don’t remember his name… he fixed the zipper one time. We went in the barn and used a big needle to sew it back together. The thread used to be orange. But now it looks brown. I gave him one of my dreams and some of the love out of my case. He said he would share them with his wife.

One time, a lady with red hair put some paper in the bottom of my case because the material was coming out. It had blue and red stripes. I told her about my Grammy and she wanted to put some dreams and love in my case too. I told her that Grammy had put all that it would hold. I gave her some love and dreams to her before the big car came to get me.

They brought me here and I am have my own room. The nice man and lady said it was for only me and it was for always. I asked them if I was going to go with the big car again and they told me this was my home now. They said I could keep my case in my room until all the dreams and all the love are all out of it. They said I could take it on trips to the lake and we could put lunch and snacks in it. I can take it anywhere I want.

I gave them some love out of my old case and then dragged it up here to my room. Every time I open the case and pull some dreams and love out of it, there is always more. How did my Grammy have so much to give?

Sometimes I pull my case to the window and open the top so the wind can carry some love and dreams to my Grammy. She wrote her name in my case and I look at it all the time. It’s hard to read, but I know that she wrote it for me. Nobody can ever take my case from me… not until I have used all of the love and dreams up and I am all grown up… after my birthday…

Shannon R Killman