Simply Sunday

Such is the Bond

There we were
Standing on
Grandma’s
Front porch
Me and Mom
All her sisters
Even Grandma
Was there
Talking
Smiling

Strange how young
She looked
I should have
Been a child
And yet, there
I stood
Seeing her
Seeing them
Thru grown-up eyes
A gift of its own

As one sister
Drove away
We all waved
Thru smiles
Thru tears
Uncertain of her return

Such is the bond
Mothers, daughters, sisters
Pouring love and strength
Thru laughter and tears
Over each new generation
Of mothers, daughters, sisters

I awoke
In a sea
Of emotions
Thankful for
Strong women
In my past
Thankful for
Vivid dreams
And memories

What’s That Sound?

I was listening to This American Life podcast on my way home yesterday. https://www.thisamericanlife.org/766/well-someone-had-to-do-something The stories were humorous, unusual, inspiring, and thought-provoking. But the two related to current events in Ukraine…well, words are hard to find.

One of the stories is about a man working to change the flow of misinformation to the people of Russia. He randomly calls individuals seeking to engage in conversation about what is happening in Ukraine. He is often met with anger, arguments, and hang-ups.

But sometimes, the person on the other end listens, even if briefly. Responding quietly, if at all. His explanation-Fear has its own sound, you know.

I have breathed
The sigh of relief
Heard pure joy
Thru the laughter
Of my children
Expressed grief
With sounds
Of sobbing
But what about fear?
How does it sound?
The thought
Brings
Only silence
Halts
My hurried mind
Until heard
In the voices
Of others
Voices afraid
The next city
Destroyed
Will be their own
Voices afraid
They may never
See family again
Even voices afraid
To hear
Or speak
The truth
Others work
To forever
Keep hidden-
Listen…
Do you hear
The sound
Of their fears?

Fine Lines

I sat outside
Long enough
For the sun
To warm my skin
The cool breeze
Made things
A little tricky
Almost keeping me
From discerning
The fine line
Between
Warm or burn
Caused me to wonder…
Reminisce or wallow
Sympathize or pity
Love or smother-
One would think
Those simple
To discern
And yet
I’ve blurred
Their lines
Too many times-
Today, I am grateful
For wisdom felt
In the cool breeze

To Be Carried

Smiling
Both of you
Small arms
Wrapped tightly
Around strong
Shoulders
A long walk
From the shelter
Of home
Out into the world
A long walk
For one of you
Anyway
-Loving father
Lowering your son
Until both feet
Are planted firmly
On the ground
Son happily
Running ahead
No thought of
Looking back
Knowing
What it feels like
To be carried

This week’s morning duty involves greeting students as they enter the building. Some hop out of their cars and make the short walk to the door. Others walk or ride bikes from their neighborhood. Still, others ride a bus.

It is interesting to watch all the differing interactions. Parents and children, siblings, friends. Most days, there is a mix of smiles, tears, and yawns, both the kids and me. 😉

This morning, I couldn’t help but notice one scene. A dad was carrying his son toward the building, both smiling. So much love and security. A perfect picture! ❤️

And Older…

-For persons
Fifty years
And older-

It took hearing
This message
Multiple times
From the same
Advertisement
Over several days
Until I realized
It was speaking to me-
Wait…what was it they were selling?
No idea!
Certainly, nothing I need
Yet, it did leave me
With a question
How did I become
Part of a group
Described as
Fifty and older?
Again-no idea!
Interestingly
The words
“And older”
Provided
A glimmer of hope
For the countless
Inches of ground
I have left to cover

I wrote this poem during a recent poetry circle with Ali Grimshaw. http://flashlightbatteries.blog/ I love this process and the people with whom I’ve been privileged to write and share. Hoping for many more opportunities! ❤️

Inner Voice

My brain hurts
Well, actually
I think it’s numb
Tired body
Tired heart
Words are
Bouncing
Around
In my head
Aim is off
Can’t seem
To find
Their way out
Maybe for the best
Probably wouldn’t
Sound the same
If I said them
Out loud
Perhaps writing
Them down
Would help…

Today, I…
Need to rest
Don’t want to listen
Don’t feel like engaging

Whew! Think I feel better!

After writing this poem, I had a revelation. If I feel this way some days, so do my students. And while I can put my feelings into words, that is not always easy for children.

Ok, so maybe this wasn’t a revelation, but it was a reminder. I need to be aware of facial expressions, body language, and tone of voice-mine and my students. Tempering my actions and reactions by keeping the clues close at heart. ❤️

Not Statistics

They return every day
Same building
Same rooms
Until some move away
And new ones come
Each one carrying
Their own story
Their history
Good and bad
Happy and sad
All blended
Together
Creating empathy
Understanding
And yes, conflict
Frustration
But ultimately
Learning that lasts
For a lifetime
And successes
Not measurable
By any test
Not represented
By any numbers
Because
They are not
Statistics
The teachers
Or the students
They are people
Connecting hearts
Healing heartaches
Every day
In this place
We call school
 
Turn on the news. Read a newspaper-state, local, even national. There will most likely be a story about public education. And it will probably be negative.

This constant negativity can weigh heavy on those of us in the field. Until we see those light bulbs turn on. Witness the progress, even if it is baby steps. Listen to their stories, and they ours. And sometimes, see their hearts.

A young student had been saving his money to spend at the book fair. Always a fun event at school. He was so excited! And then he saw his friend crying because he did not have any money for the book fair.

This precious little boy took his friend with him to the book fair. He shared half of the money he had saved with his friend. They both left with new books and happy hearts, one from giving and one from receiving. ❤️

Favorite Space

Nervous energy
Backstage
It lives there
No matter
Your age
Or years of
Experience-
No more time
For practicing
Smiles of
Reassurance
Bouncing
Back and forth
We are ready
And the audience
Is waiting to listen
Time on stage
Is brief
Barely enough
To find presence
In my favorite space
Lost in the music

My favorite part of being a musician is collaborating with other musicians. There is something magical about learning my part of the music and then hearing it come together with another.

Working as an accompanist used to take up much of my professional time. These days, not so much. Both time and opportunity often play a role, and that is ok. But an opportunity came along recently. And I am glad I said yes!

This past week, I had the privilege of accompanying a young cellist, eleven years old. He was to be a spotlight performer for the Tulsa Youth Symphony during their dinner fundraiser. He needed an accompanist, and a former colleague passed along my name.

We met once to rehearse. The level of preparedness, skill, and musicality was impressive. Easy to work with and kind. Eleven years old.

Waiting backstage, we both admitted to being a little nervous. But once in front of the audience, it was all about the music. Afterward, this truth was rekindled-Moments like these are my favorite. And they are to be treasured.

Somewhere Between

The morning sky
Matched my mood
Midnight blue?
Hard to tell
Before sunrise

Glance to the right
A tiny streak of light
Somewhere between
Pale pink and white
Off in the distance

Glance to the left
Both me and the sky
Somewhere between
Asleep and awake
Moving forward

Traces of hope
One seeking
One displaying
As darkness
Transformed
To daylight