Voice of the Troubadour

Everyone of us from conception is born to die.
The life we are given is filled with inherent struggles.
Genetic difficulties may make the struggles ever so much more pronounced.
The challenge then becomes not to silence a voice because of stigma,
But to be the troubadour who resounds I am here as God intended me to be!

I shall not be forgotten, my obligation is to never forget those who have helped me
My duty is to protect the homeless, to be the sympathetic ear, to challenge the status quo.  Sadly, many falsely believe homelessness is a choice.  My responsibility is to make life better not just for myself, but for all.

The world I have seen in Michigan is deplorable.  Individuals are living in filth because the mental health system, and the department of human services system allows this to happen. Additionally, Snyder in his poor judgement appointed James K. Haveman as the Director of Community Mental Health in the state of Michigan. Speak to any mother who has had her son or daughter inappropriately housed in a jail or prison, and one will become even more stealth on advocating against a system, which is so badly broken not only in Michigan, but nationally.

At the Federal level, Social Security Income restrictions of $2,000 per month, limit an individual from trying to better oneself. The so called spend down generates waste. Services are inappropriately provided and unnecessary paperwork is generated.  The old saying of give a person a fish versus teaching one how to fish holds true today. The sad reality, however, is the teaching never seems to happen, subsequently, the poverty becomes more apparent. Take a stand to be the Americans we were taught to be when ideology in the Democratic Republic was not just a dream, but a belief.

I urge my fellow Americans to unite and draft proposals that your legislators will be forced to consider for adoption.  This is not the time for despondency, it is the time for ACTION! 

One of Many

There is an illness we try to hide, 

locked in generations and hidden by pride. 

A family is devastated and does not understand, 

while older members prefer to pretend.

A torture and peril rips through the soul:

Leaving emptiness, void of a goal.

Still generations live on--

But eyes are opened by one that sees 

Inquisitive, troubled victim is she

To explore and understand

To somehow comprehend

what is this illness 

That destroys the brain

Leaving sorrow, anger and pain--

Surely there is an answer somewhere.

Surely there is a reason for despair,

But why does a family continue to retreat

Behind the walls of facades and defeat

To rise above and live beyond 

This meddlesome, troublesome thorn in the side

This is the goal 

A new generation holds--

To conquer, to prevail, to achieve

To be as normal as normal can be 

To live with the illness,

But not to succumb

To have open eyes 

To recognize the signs

This is the attitude

Of a new generation

To function, to be--contributors in society--

Mental illness exists; this is true 

But survivors are many

Productive souls need not hide

Beneath fallacies, masks and lies.

Society shuns the sick and oppressed,

 A world has its norms

New shoes must be worn

God forbid there be an aberrant--

Hell, I am what I am 

And what I am ain't bad

For I am me--a soul with purpose

An individual with a goal

I seek truth

I strive for happiness

And God willing I too will be successful

In a world that demands conformity--

I cannot alter who I am

But I can help people to understand 

This illness we too often try to hide

That is locked in by generations and hidden by pride

God willing I will succeed

For I am an envoy for those who still bleed!

Composed after my first bout with mental illness at the age of 18. 

Epitaph

What hue are you?
I am the color of the rainbow.
My colors reach far beyond the sky we see.

I am the parabola that has no end.
The life extended by the one before me.
The hourglass that encapsulates time--
To be turned over and begun again.

I am my shadow as my shadow is me
A reflection of what I was, who I am and of whom I have yet to be.
The water that speaks with each ripple each yields.
I am the sunflower in the field.

I walk now with gray hair, and with hips and knees that creek.
I am, however, still able to learn from those who've come before and after me.
I am molded by those I meet with similar stories of the street.
I'm glad God gave me this path at this time.
His eyesight is clearly better than mine.

Perhaps one day, our paths will cross.
I'll be holding the skipping stone.
Waiting yet again, to learn another thing.

I entered this world in the arms of someone.
But if I close my eyes, and you are not able to attend--
Do not be sorry, I'm just glad I had you as a love and a friend.
 

Old Man

Old Man

By Madeleine Graham

Old man sitting in the street, why you lookin' at me?

Do you know more than I: can you see what we all must some day realize?

What have you experienced?

What have you seen?

Tell me story, share it with me---

Can't you see I need to know, please hear me!!!

He pauses from his gaze, and he looks me straight in the eyes.

He tells me life is beautiful, live it day by day.

Understand life for it is the essence of mankind---

The branch that stems to the future,

And the road that leads to eternal peace.

For in living day by day, you'll understand all that once you did not. 

As the flowers of life unfold---

You'll see Heaven spelled in gold.

I turn to thank the Old Man for the wisdom that he has shared, 

but he is no longer there.

His words, however, become engraved in my mind.

Words to be shared with all mankind.

Cultural Crossings

Cultural Crossings

By Madeleine Graham

Introduction

Let the customs of the age be reflected on the stage

Let them understand the bow the nod

Why he walks ahead and she walks behind

And understand the curtsy now

The blend of color and of creed

Oh let them all please agree

As they pass upon the street

Of timeless wisdom they will observe

The elders teaching in song and dance

Of stories told through time

When lives are reconciled as grayness befalls each

The things that seemed important are no longer so

Let the children know

Why courtesy is a way of life

Preventing anger and strife

If only each of us could see

Our brothers own humanity

And present the torch unto our young

Generations must carry on

Remove the hatred born of war

Scarred lives tender souls

Hands that cross the great divide

Need a healer from the sky

If we look into our brother's eyes

And see our own image

Then never a weapon born by I

For the mirror is a timeless passage

Beat the drum the echo is from the past

Voices that share the heartache once known as theirs

Woman with child

Beaten while in exile

Auschwitz horrors still resound

But peace requires the quilted patch

Sewn through tears given in love

Orphans of new wars need not be

If we could all simply agree

The children must see they are our future

The waters that bridge this great divide

Need a healer with prophetic eyes

We are the molders of their beliefs

If we teach hate

Callous hearts will walk the streets

If we teach love in troubled times

Even when pain has come to our abode

Then a moral compass will guide the children home

If we see ourselves void of color and of creed

Then truly we our free

Blood that flows through our veins

The branch between past and present

Blood brothers and sisters are we

Faith requires forgiveness

If we left our money at the bankers door

Saw our fellow man in his struggle

Shared what we had to offer

Neighbors would no longer be strangers

Understanding requires listening

Skills come in so many forms

Hunger knows no color no creed

War ravages and leaves so many on desperate knees

If we move into a barbaric state then we've but sealed our own fate

Communicating is the greatest challenge faced by every being

Words can be as a quick draw of a gun

Or the balm that soothes the soul

If we expect another to lower his weapon

Should we not be expected to bow ours as well

The nod of accord signaled in unison

Requires fear be left aside

Respect becomes the norm

And is taught to our young