Walking
Hand in hand
First day
To last
One often
Seen as
Enemy
Of the other
Giver vs. taker-
Picture them
Working
Together
One aiding
The body
Along its path
The other
Waiting
To embrace
Spirit, once
The temporary
Gives out
Death
A part of
Life
Not determiner
Of its end-
This journey
Shares its
Insight-
Those
Left walking
Walk with broken hearts
Thinking of all those grieving the loss of someone close.
Approaching
Resonance
Can’t quite
Hear it
With
My ears
But I feel it
In my bones
A slight ache
Hint of what
Approaches
Do I stop
Hibernate
Until it passes?
Or attempt
To outrun?
Perhaps
I will
Simply
Slip-on
My favorite
Sweater
Continue
Placing
One foot
In front of
The other
Unafraid
Believing
When winter
Eventually
Catches up-
I’ll be ready
Heaviness
Lingers
In the quiet
Struggles
Of others
On this cold
Fall morning
Though
Not mine
Fragments
Of their pain
Filter thru
My thoughts
The sky
Is clear
And blue
From my
Vantage
While clouds
Of grief and
Sadness fill
Surrounding
Skies
Needing
To release
Waiting for
Assurance
That it is ok
For the rain
To fall
Even on
The clearest
Of days
Why are we
In such a hurry?
Wishing
Our days
Away
As children
In a hurry
To grow up
As students
Hurrying
To finish first
As young adults
To get married
Start a family
Realizing
Our foolishness
At the moment
We wish
Time would
Slow down
Our children
To remain little
A bit longer
Our parents
To age
A bit slower
Ourselves
To breathe in
Each moment
Accepting that
Our hurrying
Offers no increase
Your sweet smile
Gives no hint
Of the hurt
In your heart
They say children are resilient
That may
Be true
But a heart
Can only hold
So much pain-
When loss and
Instability
Frame each day
The future
Will not go
Untouched-
Not to say
There is no hope
Only that there are
No easy answers
Except for the ability
To always return
Your sweet smile
Each time I learn about another student facing traumatic circumstances, my heart grows heavy. Here they are, at school, trying to function. And quite often with a smile.
I am also reminded to stop and listen. Be patient and not too quick to judge behaviors. Seek out helpful information. Find ways to encourage.
Not that I am always successful. Honestly, my patience level today was low. But tomorrow is a new day. Another chance to observe, listen and love.
Unable to see it directly
As I drive toward the east
Only a quick glance
In the rearview
Assures its
Appearance
Eyes back on the road
Lavenders
And pinks
Soon fill the sky
In my periphery
Both to the north
And to the south
Gradually blending
With the darkening
Indigo up ahead
Although unable
To see it directly
For a few moments
Sunset surrounds me
Sharing its splendor
Carrying me
Into the night
Leaving me ready
For peaceful rest
Pink flowers
Graced
The bed
Yesterday
Fluttering
In the breeze
As if to say
Isn’t it a lovely day?
Rains came
Winds grew
Now pink petals
Cover the ground
I don’t think
They are sad
Just seeing
The world
From a new
Perspective
Knowing
Their blooms will
Remain in memories
As they fade into dust
I wrote this poem at a recent writing circle with Ali Grimshaw. flashlightbatteries I continue to enjoy this process and the lovely people I’ve gotten to know. 💞
Driving home
In darkness
News of the day
Settled in
Sorrow
For lives
Once again
Tragically taken
Sadness
For those
Left to grieve
The unthinkable
Each of us
Knows loss
Death is part
Of this life-
But for this…
No words
Only tears
Falling from
My eyes
Only tears
Falling
From the sky
Driving home
In darkness
“If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” Romans 12:18
My heart used to
Think letting go
Was harder than
Holding on-
Moments I wished
Could last forever-
Nothing lasts forever
No matter how
Tightly gripped-
Experience taught me
Tighter the grip
Greater the chances
Of shattering
The treasured into
A million tiny pieces-
I am learning to hold
Precious moments with
A more gentle touch
Like cuddling
A newborn baby
Or caressing
Weathered hands-
Where joy slowly fills
The heart to overflowing
Seeping out of every pore
Spilling onto anyone
Who comes near
A limitless circle
Of holding close
Then letting go-
Hmmm…maybe…
Sharing is forever
It has been many years since
I sat around a campfire,
Or any fire created by
Putting a flame to a branch
Once belonging to a tree
Recent fires were made from
Glass, manufactured logs, and gas
Although these provide heat
As well as beauty
Something was missing
Perhaps it was the smell
Rising from the meeting
Of flame and wood
Changing based on
The origin of the tree
Perhaps it was the sight
Of the ashes left behind
Once the fire has gone out
Reminding us of our origins
And where our bodies will return
An unquestioned reliance
Assures us one spark will
Transform the cold night air
Maybe that was the difference-
The cold night air
Actually, I think there are
Too many differences to count-
Each one offering lessons
Frailty and faithfulness in
The physical and spiritual
Piano Girl 