Prayers for my Papa

Hello, Internet friends…in lue of a Guerrilla Art project, today I’m going to share a poem in honor of my Dad, who has been having a really difficult few weeks.  I’m doing a poetry reading this evening, and this will be the first piece that I present because I’d like to gather good energy and prayers for him from anyone who is willing and able…here is the poem.  Forgive the wonky formatting…or advise me on how to not double space on the WordPress app?



We are shaped and held

So intimately

By the stories that we 
Are told, and that we

Tell each other;

Their words weave us 


Stitching souls into the


that define us.
It feels like 

Just yesterday;

Myself as a child,

Pleading with my Papa

To tell me a story

About when he was

MY age; I would listen, 

Wide-eyed and completely 


When I was old enough to

Read, Papa started writing 

Out his stories on his

State of the art

Windows ’98

That had way better games

Than my ’97 back

At Mom’s house;

They were grand adventures

Of travel and

Love and

Miraculous happenings-

I would ingest his words, 

Enchanted; so proud

To be his daughter.
Now, many years later, 

His book in front of me,

Newly printed for me to


I feel a strange sensation,

Almost like vertigo, 

As events and experiences

That correspond with both

Our stories

Are now laid in front of me

Once again;

To what extent

Do our stories define us,

I wonder?

To what extent 

Do the words we see and hear

Shape our destinies,

Our DNA?
Most of this book is

Fully embedded in my 

Memory; not word for

Word, but story by story.

I’ve walked the same 

Pathways, nearly fifty years later,

To recapture the awe of

First hearing

These tales of my Papa’s childhood; I’ve 

Relived the memories

With him,

From climbing the cliffs of

Crystal Falls, to

Hemodialysis and being so

Close to death we can hear 

Our ancestors speaking, to

Mural painting in church


In search of our own

Creative powers;

Even my signature is 

Framed by the three stars that

Inspired him to paint 

His “Trinity Mural”, when he was

Almost MY age, in which

He unconsciously

(At the time)

Portrayed the Divine Feminine 

That I so 


Seek to embody in my 

Words and images.
Yet our stories continue, so

Intimately woven together

With so many lives

That I am prompted to 

Question the spaces 

Between beings,

And am left

May he pull through this difficult time to see another adventure in this life.

Much love,

Guerrilla Lovely


10 thoughts on “Prayers for my Papa

  1. ‘Close to death, we can hear our ancestors speaking,’ I’d never looked at it that way but how captivating and thought provoking. I shall be thinking of you and your family and sending as many positive and healing vibes as I can. Stay safe and well.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. The veil seems to thin when you are close to it…it’s omehow simultaneously conmforting and terrifying. Good old paradox!
      Thank you, very much appreciated. Things seem to be stabilizing a bit…thinking it’s all the good vibes ☺

      Liked by 2 people

  2. Beautifully written with so many connections to my existence. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your papa, my niece and brother whom I love and miss dearly. XO

    Liked by 1 person

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