Sunday morning stillness,
thoughts meander.
So many blessings,
thank you, Lord.
Photo taken many years ago in Provincetown, Cape Cod.
Cherished
Winter Glistens
“As I left China farther and farther behind, I looked out of the window and saw a great universe beyond the plane’s silver wing. I took one more glance over my past life, then turned to the future. I was eager to embrace the world.”
Wild Swans, Jung Chang
Youth and middle age.
I am far past those lanes,
beyond that curve in the road.
Photos framed on shelves.
Who I was and who I loved
all along the way.
Mirrored image returns my gaze.
Silver haired and wizened,
in this, my final season.
No turning back.
Winter’s snow always glistens
even in the setting sun.
I shall embrace this scene.
This my new world forever,
as ever I shall be.
Mish is hosting Tuesday’s Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. She asks us to choose a book near us (or from a link she provides) and look to the last lines at the end of the book….and then let those be our poetic muse for our post today! Thus the last lines to Wild Swans, included before my poem.
Photo from our trip to Norway a few years ago.
Darkness and Light: Beginning Anew
October 19, 2013. We walked across the street from Mass. General Hospital into a new life. My question: Is there always darkness before light? Night skies before the dawn. In utero before light at the end of the birth canal. Sleep before the alarm sounds. Death before new life.
Six minutes minus a heart beat. Thirty-six hours of induced comatose state. You suspended somewhere; eyes shut, machines whirring. Me existing in light which felt like the darkest of times.
You returned to us and the morning sun. Five days later, we walked home. Six years later, we are together still. Thankful for every day.
dark in chrysalis
strength builds, body renewing
life’s splendor springs forth
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Bjorn is hosting Haibun Monday and asks us to write about new beginnings. Haibun: 2 to 3 tight paragraphs of prose (must be true) followed by a haiku. The condominium building we live in is actually located directly across from the main campus of Massachusetts General Hospital.
Wishing
If I could choose, let us be a kaleidoscope.
Created by One with artistic eye,
teacher of Truth who understands,
together, we all shine best.
You, me, everyone as glass shards.
Infinite hues, shapes and sizes,
knowing we are at our finest
melding into one design.
Sun and moon do shift their paths,
causing solar temperaments to flare.
Tempted to mirror that discord,
reflections may tip, slightly askew.
Then quietly, with kindly understanding,
One gives but a gentle twist.
We realign, nudged ever so slightly,
even more beautiful than before.
None of us misshapen.
No color better than another.
We mirror each other’s good will,
design so glorious to behold.
Would that we could truly be
one magnificent kaleidoscope,
birthed within the cosmos.
Each bit valued,
an intricate part of the whole.
Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today Mish is hosting and asks us, “Do you ever wish you could just wave a magic wand, eliminate everything that creates havoc, unrest, uncertainty, injustice? I do. Today I am asking you to do the same. Dream with me. . . create and describe a ‘new world’ as you envision it.”
Photo from Pixabay.com
Manifesto
Ah men, the bane of women,
amen. We pray, we sing this hymn,
that we be not prey to him.
Man’s heart can be but steel,
thieves striving to steal
hour after hour,
our rights to our very selves,
rites that celebrate our being.
Would that we remain on course
coarse not as his ways claim.
We weigh our choices wisely
for we are not poor in intellect.
Pour not your wiles on us sirs,
while we know our truths.
Your heels shall not tread in judgment
for we know only compassion heals.
Tears shall be shed in any decision
for we are caring women, all dear,
not deer caught in your short-sited scope.
And so I repeat to you this hour,
our voices, our bodies,
our strength is in togetherness.
Amen I say to you.
Ah men, we pray they listen.
Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse where today, Merril asks us to think about using an echo technique in our poetry…or to write somehow about the idea of echo. I’ve used homophones to echo sounds….two words that sound the same but are spelled differently and have different meanings. There are 12 homophones here. Two use one word as a plural (wiles and and while; ways and weigh). Can you find the other 10? Photo from the Womens’ March in Boston, the day after President Trump’s inauguration. I was there with my daughter.
Perspectives
Can you see . . .
homes alight with holiday cheer
stars and angels atop yule tide trees,
shoppers bustling, carolers singing
couples kissing ‘neath mistletoe,
gingerbread men snuggling in Christmas tins.
Can you see . . .
bell ringers seeking donations
people laughing, rushing by,
widowers staring out windows
dabbing eyes as snow fills air,
crumpled souls cowering on sewer grates.
Marking time . . .
advent wreaths lit each week
expectations for blessings dear.
Homeless shelters filled each night
bed fitful sleepers dreading dawn
when same day starts anew.
Photo: Christmas tree of my childhood. Amaya asks us to write a poem for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, using Apostrophe as a literary device. Addressing someone within the poem.
Words . . .
the stuff of love
fear
anger
joy
power of the mind
script of the pen
stuff of relationshipships.
Use them wisely.
Photo from Pixabay.com
Ancient Lesson
The Ancient One’s book
answered the question
deep within her mind.
You may choose the stars,
shine from the cosmos.
Lighten the canopy of darkness
as do many other souls.
Reflect bright wisdom,
comfort and awe,
to those who remain behind
waiting to grasp the Truth.
Or choose the dawn.
Join that orb of hope, 
those rays of warmth.
Become one of many filaments
that spark awareness,
knowledge for those who wait.
The realization,
each day lived is a gift
The choice is yours.
Even in death
there is more than one path
to the everlasting Wonder.
Today I host Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. This means folks can post one poem of their choosing, with no required prompt, form, or topic. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time – come join us!
Star photo from Pixabay.com
Dawn photo taken in Provincetown this past summer.
Children through the ages . . .
Parents, she thought, learned to survive touching their children less and less.
From Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng
These were precious moments ~
holding you upon my shoulder
napping with you upon my chest
holding you to my breast
lifting you back up to walk again
reading together, you sitting on my lap
skipping lessons, hand in hand
sharing hugs on grade school days
combing hair and straightening shirt
and wiping tears as you tumbled.
Now you have growing children
and as their independence grows,
touching them is lessening too for you.
But between you and me
at this stage in our lives,
hello and goodbye hugs
seemingly last a bit longer.
Perhaps because we know
time passing, means less time left
and we treasure more
these moments of staying in touch.
Rising
I rise to a new day not yet dawned,
leaving you to your dreams.
Pad quietly in shadows,
light candle and just sit.
Memories flicker
before mind moves into now.
In the last filaments of darkness
I understand again.
You are the constant in my life,
you light my way.
