Wednesday, September 13, 2017



SPECIAL MEMORY

My walk through that little, quaint New Mexican town became engraved in my memory as a treat to stream, like a movie through my mind whenever I'm running low on joy. Do I remember that day because I was a tourist enjoying the irresponsible freedom of that temporary escape one feels while on vacation?  Or because the moment was simply other worldly?

I can still see the people lined up for mass before the ornate doors of that old church, the bell's loud clang creating a chime of reverberating waves caressing the hopes of non-believers, confirming the faith of believers, uniting everyone with tiny glimpses of heaven.

Nearby, multi-generations of one family gathered to celebrate their blood connection.  I wonder if they noticed me standing outside their huge yard, ogling their plates of  tantalizing Mexican food being passed around like soul nutrition, admiring how they loved their babies, how children, adults and the elderly intermingled, how their laughter drowned out the sound of the church bell creating instead the sound of love.

To this day, that scene evokes a variety of thoughts.  Primarily, that I'm grateful for my own little family. But I also entertain Pollyannish wishes.  Is it possible that within the cosmic scope, humanity is just one small family?  And we can celebrate a reunion? Someday?

A family's love
Resounds through the universe
Like a bell in Spring




(For Poets United.)




  

Wednesday, August 30, 2017

WATCHING HURRICANE HARVEY


source


Captured
By cameras
She is fully in the moment
Not yet worried about futures 
After being rescued from waters
That flow without mercy
Washing away her ground
  Because there's no security
Not even in the love of the child
She clutches to confirm life

I can't stop watching
My heart feels swollen
My emotions swirl 
Fear, tenderness, helplessness
But above all wonder
At humanity's spirit,
A capsule of possibilities

Mesmerized, I am witness
I suffer with the suffering
But I am also awed
By those who detach 
From their own interests
To help, to give of themselves
While forgetting about themselves
How amazing 
Humanity




Sunday, August 27, 2017

Have been gone a while and have missed you all.  Been busy relearning life's lessons.  Both daughter and husband have had health challenges and I've been trying to be helpful.  I'll be posting 
periodically for a while, whenever I can and the muse inspires.







LEARNING TO DRAW



 



In high school, nuns taught me Latin,
The best foundation.
But it seemed lifeless, irrelevant, useless
To a teenage girl who preferred to learn French,
Melodic, romantic language
That magnified my magical dreams.
But the magic of those dreams died
Starved from lack of habit.
Both languages became foggy wisps  
Of my memory.

Today, in spite of my good intentions,
I frown at my sketches.
My hand simply does not give form
To what I want to create.
Will I ever learn?
Why is everything like language?
If not practiced, forgotten.

Is that why life is more circular than linear,
Continuously passing by similar scenes
Of opportunities
To practice love in all its forms?
Will I ever learn to draw
From the rainbows in my heart
Teaching me
Again, again.
Is that why Spring keeps repeating?




Sunday, July 9, 2017

I've spent a little time distracting myself from world events by trying to express my deep love for all animals.  These are  a few of my expressions.














MY DEAR FELLOW CREATURES

I love a good mystery
Especially one like you
Existing without answers or questions
About that huge WHY that plagues humans
Because we think, we are
So smart, to know. 

But not you,
You're not even aware of yourself
Of your beauty, your monstrosity,
Your weakness, your might,
Your sweetness, your ferocity
Or how you "chose" to 
swim, crawl or fly.

You don't care
To examine reasons why
we're connected
We simply are
You and I
Earth's creatures entwined

I don't care either
To know why
I love you so much
Mysteriously, I just do.





(For Poets United.)

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

INSIDE WAR AND PEACE





My father-in-law jested,
"If I had a choice 
Between being rich or poor,
I'd rather be rich."
And he truly was 
Though he had no money
His investments grew exponentially
from the wisdom he'd accrued, 
love he never withdrew
From a heart enlarged
With abundant treasures

Makes me consider how
Some things must happen 
From the inside out
Like war and peace
Both deep within me
Walking in the shadow of my death
While I live 
Making choices
Trying hard to negotiate between
My inner demons and those angels
Battling in the corners of my silence
Waiting to see if my inner battles
Can produce the peaceful warrior
I want to be









Sunday, June 11, 2017

IMAGINE




Imagine how I felt 
When your wife told me 
How you've changed
No longer the intellectual 
Or spiritual seeker of truth
You've finally accepted 
The little piece of truth
That satisfies you
Body and mind shrinking
Now your truth fits perfectly
In small parameters

The truth is
Now you seek what's left of life
Not to analyze or understand
Definitely not to expand 
There's nothing left to stretch
All you find now are contractions
Birth in reverse
Imagine how I feel 

Me, I still seek
Still find quality in life
My little truths still want to grow
But one truth is especially clear 
As I learn of your slow demise:
It's fear I recognize
In impending truth
Of my own shrinking life
Imagine how I feel

(For Poets United.)

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Friendship


source


I loved that small pot of roses
You gave me that day
Blood red, scent of heaven
Delicate petals embracing
Like we did
Our vibrations circling 
Creating harmonious waves
As we recognized 
Ourselves in each other
Love can be so easy

But love never stays the same
Life likes to draw indelible lines
Births, marriages, deaths, 
Leave their marks 
As do all those seemingly insignificant
Daily encounters that highlight
Different colors in our worlds

Today I barely see myself in you
Our lives are tinted by different hues
But those roses you gave me still bleed red,
Exude a divine bouquet
And they've grown huge


(For Poets United.)