On Track: Growing up in Detroit we did not have underground transport, and when I moved to Downtown Los Angeles I discovered the Metro line, I fell in love with the zoom rush push of passenger unknown . I studied the lines: purple, red, silver and blue, riding each train to pretend I was in escaping the city and if so? Which line ? I filmed hours of riding the Metro, as the dark tunnels weaved under ground I could just hear my Grand Mary exclaim ," that girl good she has an education ", I would stop in Hollywood and buy tea along with fresh honey from the bees on a farm outside the Los Angeles range. I was transfixed by the push of the train and the passengers from all socioeconomic status, I pretended I didn't see them and hoped they ignored me. I would look at my film proofs late at night just amazed by the maze right under my feet and thought about all the secrets hidden there?
I remember it differently, ironically very much differently.
I fell asleep and woke from the strangest flash series of dreams, and as I drank my tea, I heard the words in Gaelic whispered across the sea, translated, " these days of pain in remembering are over, run the ocean cliffs and feel whole again, run free Bonnielynn Marie Margaret" , and as I know the trains of Downtown Los Angeles, I knew that what was once felt had been erased. I remember in dreaming I sat cross legged reading, with bandages on my knees from sliding into home base, headphones playing music from a place I knew I wanted to be, and the tall Angel took the book from my hands, " I have come to set you free", I woke up empty.
No one cries for the poor kids, as I felt my heart harden into a stone , I woke and ran the day, asking the Spirit to guide me, when I run I feel kid like free, and the memories of love come back flooding me with such a grand goodness. I look for the homeless girl from the streets of Los Angeles, I must find her, remind her to keep a goodness of love in her heart.
Some people care about the poor kids.
I pull on my OR gear to head into the life and death struggle of a new born just born, taking the bloody infant from the surgeon I begin to rescue a new breath into the baby already loved beyond measure, as I work my hands are guided by the Lord, as I positive pressure life into the reluctant infant his eyes jump into this life, looking straight away into mine. I whisper, " come on baby your parents are expecting you don't be late", as the infant fights against the mask he escapes to cry full on, " I am here to be born" , as the entire OR sighs relief, with my eyes I smile into the infants new sight eyes.
Echo's of voices with questions from the past, " what do you want to do with your life girl besides sing and dance?", and me a small child of five, " it's my best wish to serve the Lord, and I will be a healer, a nurse of comfort" , so it was, and the Metro speeds fast forward, so true were my words once spoken. We are all good for something and saving babies is my way of showing the Lord's promise for the future for the less valued, admired nor required. It's always been this Spiritual way, not a path I would have alone chosen, but one I cannot deny. A text comes every April day , " my son is now seven and it's because of you Bonnielynn and I never forget that day" a prominent lawyer from San Diego reminds me of her thankfulness, I am humbled, as I did what the Lord placed in my hands to do. Thank the Lord, because it is his Grace.
I remember it differently , I recall abuse of thought and life wishes once believed as a kid skated the cold ice on a pond in a far away mystical place called Michigan. I remember the knowing of humiliation of my friend using me to laugh at in his Hollywood parties. I remember the confusion but then understanding that the drunken female voices calling my phone for days on end of a Shrek sort of tone, mocking my culture, my humble start in life. I remember what I could not deny my friend had never been my friend, and the things said against my fine Mum for being poor ? I remember falling out of friend love, and it was the worst battle God ever won in his attempts to protect me. I remember knowing all that I was and believed in nothing by Hollywood party fun, I felt my heart fill with that small child's need for vengeance, something poor kid was awoken in me. It's a hard day when a friend once bested seeks revenge, and there is no stopping that vengeance, as I prayed to the Lord to guide me each night, " guardian Angel protect me " and I dreamed of the forgetting and I woke my heart once again free. I remember the tall one saying, " these days of hurtful memory are gone", and I suddenly I was able to run and play carefree, someone indeed loves the poor kids free.
Catch and release:
Sitting back enjoying my tea, laughing at the songs he posts to mock my Scott heritage, or suggesting that his money filled life had bested over me? I know he is never ever to be one among the best in my life, his cruelty bothers me not, I am thankful it is she that is unaware of her husbands sexual transgressions. I wake not feeling anything, and it does not pain me, nor do I fight against it. I fly free of all disharmony. I pull the Irish fabric that covers my shoulders and know that the days of less are over. The days of the Baby Catcher are often long, but these I pledge long ago to the Lord, something a Hollywood drunkard whore would never comprehend. One day his game of making fun of me will finally bore him, until then I am indifferent, all love is gone and I haven't listened to anything he has made since 2011 One day true he will sober up in a strange place they call hell .