Happy Easter!
Simply Sunday
Tag: life
Renewal
The ground swells
From soaking in
The tears
Of so many
While the sky lowers
From the weight
Of sighs rising
In desperation
Space in between
Shrinks from
Surrounding
Pressure
Creating
A fear of
Imminent
Suffocation
What happens if the two meet?
The groundswell
And the lowering sky
I don’t think they can.
Other elements
Are at work-
Kind words
Caring smiles
Acts of courage
Delivering
Deep breaths
Of fresh air
A rebirth of hope
Many things feel heavy this week. Today, I was encouraged by the power of kindness. I also noticed our azaleas are about to bloom. Both helped lift a bit of the weight. 💛
Press Rewind
If only
It was
Possible
Press rewind
Go back in time
Prevent every
Unkind word
That left you
Confused
And alone
Block every
Raised hand
That left you
Hurt and afraid
Unable to defend
Yourself
From those charged
With your keeping-
But time cannot
Be rewound
Trauma cannot
Be erased
Does time heal all wounds?
I’m afraid some
Are too deep
If only
It was
Possible
Press rewind
Go back in time
There are stories of child abuse and neglect in the news daily. But one remains close to my heart. I have written about her before-my a former student. Here, I call her Marie out of respect for her privacy.
Marie recently turned eighteen. It seemed things were going well. Living in a good home with people who love her. And then something happened. Like a snap inside that could not be controlled.
There are no simple explanations. No simple solutions. And though this is something over which I have no control, I cannot give up hope. Hope for her future.
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. ❤️
Piano Girl 