Poem for John Lee on his birthday.

For John Lee on his Birthday.

John's book "At My Fathers Wedding",  "The Flying Boy", "Facing the Fire", "Half Lived Life", to name a few, have changed my life over the years. The Men's Gatherings, and the permission Johns presence gave men to be vulnerable and yet still be strong, was a beautiful experience to be part of. His ground breaking work with Robert Bly, and for John in particular, the bridge he built for recovering men to be a solid part of the Mythopoetic part of the Men's Movement mad e it so much easier, and yet still safe in our recovery. 

I remember running men's retreat based on Johns "Healing the Father-Son Wound" The re-empowerment I saw in the Men who had the courage to grieve the loss of the Fathers they wished their fathers could be, and the emerging love for themselves as they excepted themselves, and their fathers the way they were. 

The Anger I needed to get out, that Facing the Fire Helped me with, and many other men and women, through simple but incredibly healing processes that I still use and recommend to others to this day.

Giants walk amongst us as ordinary men, and John Herald Lee is on of those Giants.

Thank you John from Men Downunder, that will never be the same for knowing and experiencing you.

All my Love.

Steve Stokes

Poems

Poems won’t pay the rent

They paint the sky yellow

Pave pathways to sacred places

Cut the toenails of giants

Steal nose hairs

From hags hidden in dark forest

They make cloths for little people

Stich wounds in broken things

Colour in 100’s and 1000’s

With little brushes

Tickle you awake from sleep

With scary stories

And chuckle at your bed sweats

Keep all your ugly photos

Exhibiting them when you out of town

Keep you naive with constant praise

Poems don’t change the world

They make food rot in fridges

Wrap dreams in plastic

Disturb the comfortable

Put dust on trophies, under beds

Use your tooth brush

Poems won’t change your life

They change bugs into butterflies

Breathe for eagle soars

Light candles for the dead

Make young people old

Poems won’t find you God

They will take you under the earth

Saw through your shoelace

Leaving just a thread                                        

Poems won’t pay your debts

But they will make you a blanket out of leaves

Introduce you to the moon

Paint your face with mud

Teach you to dance

With Dragon flies

Poems won’t pay your wages

They will change your money into buttons

And bury you in gold

Stephen J. Stokes