Archive for the ‘Utilitarian gray coat.’ Category


A work in progress,

that sometimes gets hijacked.


the best intentions that go awry,

and the awesome efforts and connections that get forgotten.

Utilitarian gray coat, my only friend.

I watched the flickering pictures on the TV screen.

Two leaders’ meeting in Leningrad:

one looks energized and incentivized,

the other tired and burdened…

handed a letter, with names,

he is obliged to look into it.

There’s something special brewing,

I can feel it.

I can hope.

I too, one day, will go south of Irkutsk.


Everything was over. Or, at least, everything had changed. I was “lucky” enough to find myself momentarily stationed in a gateway of sorts. Many of my comrades sold whatever they could and moved on as soon as possible. I felt a prompting within and kept what little I had, paramount of which was my utilitarian gray coat. Oh, that beautiful wool. Cold, damp desperation seeping into almost everything, my coat was my last remaining barrier. It contained my everything within. It contained me. … I kept my hands in the pockets and stretched my legs out as the train carried (time) forward (!) and, instead of thinking about the future, I remembered that girl on the beach from yesterday, yes, eating melon. … Russians and Ukrainians, I smiled to myself, eyes shut, we both love the luxury of eating fruit.

Yes, I know it could be said that I’m “spinning my wheels”, so as to say. I feel it too, and it is most frustrating. Confusing fragments, life, death, memories, and strands of in/sanity. Soon though, I’ve got to believe, something will click, in a good way, and things will come together. Yes, believe.

That wonderful utilitarian gray coat. Such warmth, such functionability. It is my closest ally, my only true friend – its pockets have held secrets no one else could be trusted with. Heavy, beautiful wool, grown so far away on a sheep’s back in a sunburnt country. It’s quite strange, you know, I can almost (in fact, actually, somehow I really can) feel my coat’s longing to return to the land of its incipience, it’s like it’s seeped into me somehow. Now that my nation state is dissolving around me, barriers are falling, one could say that opportunities are abounding. Yes, quite, indeed, certainly, I feel an imperative: perhaps it is the Holy Spirit talking to me, as my mother told me about in the sunshine of my youth; she (as always) trying to avoid the shadows (a great believer, despite the cost).