NaPoWriMo2020 Poem 7 of 30
kisses inhale souls
one look and hearts catch fire
love’s strong gravity
NaPoWriMo2020 Poem 7 of 30
we walked a fathomless
road of stars-
There were no heroes-
Only the clean courage
Of grown children
Leaning on each other’s
Everything we knew
Was thrown into the wind-
Leaving only this
to walk upon-
This endless starry highway.
Wrist to wrist
Pulse to pulse
We have pledged our souls
to this loose band-
Come what may
People of Earth!
There is a company that goes by the name bulkglitters.com
You can order dozens of colors of this fabulous stuff to sparkle up your world.
For just a moment, think about why this magical substance even exists. It serves no purpose but to delight; to enchant; to cause us to dream of beauty and wonder. There in the palm of your hand rests a universe of stars to call your own.
Glitter is a substance that royalty would have paid dearly for had it existed centuries ago.
Surely, pyramids, castles and monuments would have worn the iridescent shimmer that could only have come from brushing against angels, fairies or other beings from realms we are separate from. And you, lucky modern humans, can get it at almost any store in one form or another.
There may be glimmering snowflakes at Willowbrook Mill this winter and we hope they transport the viewer to somewhere, someplace, sometime, when joy was right there at your fingertips…
Shine on you crazy diamonds.
For my Northport Dear Hearts❤️
where I can carry your voices
until the trees bloom again
and you return to this northern town
where we move like circus folk –
readying our spaces before the show begins again.
Short, sweet season
filled with a thousand birds gathered on a wire outside our night windows.
Quiet fills the spaces
where you all just were.
to have had this time
In your friendship.
Saying goodbye with only distant plans for reunion makes the empty new morning swallow you whole.
On rising we are required to remember our person is no longer in our daily world. Like the thousand times we reach for a phone to call parents with a question or to share news before it hits us that they have both been dead over a decade now. So much a part of who we are; a limb, a vital organ; stunned that we live on without them.
The letting go is like pushing off from shore and swimming into open-ocean towards a destination out of sight. Do we put some effort in and try to get there faster or pace ourselves in case it’s farther than imagined? The thing is, with every passing moment we know we’re getting closer. The starting place is behind us now; the day we said goodbye. And every day a little grief weight drops and bit by bit – lightness takes its place. Before we know it, we’re half way there. Closer by the day to being home than we were yesterday and that’s a good thing. A hopeful thing. And on the day we decide to make plans again clouds disappear and joy rises like crocus up from March snow.
We’re halfway there. See you soon.
Actual exchange this morning while out with my dog.
Other: “Wow. she’s really showing her age. How old is she?”
Other: “Yeah. That’s about as long as they live. Oh, well.”
I say nothing..aloud. If I said what was going through my head at the moment I’m pretty certain that Other’s head would have exploded. Instead I patted my dog and turned back towards the house. In my head, aside from the tirade of profanity that was creeping up my collar, I was thinking, I hope like hell she never volunteers to be a grief counselor. So not helping.
I’ve known Other for a couple decades and there hasn’t been any signs of dementia or other disorder that might cause her to blurt out any unfiltered thought that pops into her head. That leaves one conclusion. Terminal rudeness.
Imagine this line of thinking if we adjust the scenario with one exchanged detail…
Me: “Wow, your mom’s really showing her age. How old is she now?”
Other: “Eighty nine.”
Me: Shaking my head on an exhale. “Yeah, that’s about as long as they live. Oh, well.”
You see the problem. Apparently, on her planet, ours was a normal exchange. I don’t want to live on her planet. I don’t even want to visit there.
I know my dog is getting older. I know Great Danes don’t have as long a life as smaller dogs. No shit, Sherlock. Just let me bathe in the bubble of *happy dog time* that I do have… And I swear to god, if you say one rude thing after she’s gone, I am egging your house on the hottest day of the year.
There. I feel better. Now, THAT helped.
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..... Just ....... Haiku .....
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