On the Way to Somewhere Else

 

Today 23 years ago my mom died.

I was with her,

so was dad and

maybe Uncle Jerry.

But why was Jerry there,

and not Aunt Kathryn? 

 

Did he just stop by on the way

to somewhere else,

or from somewhere else?

 

And then it was Mom’s turn

to be on the way

to somewhere else

 

The end was

a big inspiration

and a final expiration

Then only her body

was left.

 

In a Doctor Who show,

of all things,

someone said of their deceased father

“He’s not gone, he’s just dead.”

There is something beautiful about that,

not in the oooooh – ghost sense,

but that the memories

of our loved ones

keep them with us,

always.                              

Family

Family - pride and love and conflict,

a stew of all these flavors

and so many more

all steeped in unspoken resentment

through lifetimes and

generations

Babies born too soon,

or raised by grandparents,

that uncle who was always

a little…funny

Some joking, some drinking,

some ethnic slurs

The older generation a little racist

and the younger one

a little insufferable

and in the middle

pressure from both sides

but what can you do?

After all,

it’s family.                                                     76

Things I... - NaPoWriMo #14

Here is a list of the things…

I love coffee, strong and black

I love sitting with my dog and my notebook early in the mornings

I love cinnamon

I love autumn

I love driving fast, in a car with manual transmission

I love sunsets, but everyone loves those, don’t they?

I love my family - do I even need to say that?

I love octopuses (yes, that’s the right plural form)

I love horses and cats and dogs and birds and most mammals

I love red wine and dark chocolate

I love elves and Hobbits and Dwarves

I love adventures and

I love staying home

I love campfires

I love thunderstorms, and snowstorms

I love grey, rainy days

I love sunny days

I love dragons

I love books and libraries and librarians (well, most of them)

I love kayaks

I love daybreak on the lake

I love paper and pens

I love lists with all the items are checked off

I love wildflowers

I love houseplants in terra cotta pots

I love trees, especially birch and maple

I love silver earrings

I love so many things in this world

 

I wonder, what do you love?

Horse Crazy - NaPoWriMo #9

4-9-24 

When I was 11 I learned to fly.

That’s when I started

horseback riding

 

I was chubby

and not at all athletic

but I got on a horse

 

and I could FLY

 

There was nothing better.

 

I wasn’t a natural

I took lessons

I struggled to balance,

to post,

to keep my hands soft,

to keep heels down, eyes up

 

But somehow the struggles

on top of a horse

were challenges I wanted

 

Unlike the struggles

in gym class

to throw and hit a ball,

to climb a rope,

to run a mile,

that humiliated me

 

Because riding

I was never alone.

It was never them against me,

the horse with me.

 

It was us,

and we could fly.                                        

 

Road Trip! - NaPoWriMo #6

 

Road trip!

Today I’m driving to Minnesota

to meet the girls,

if women in their 50s

can still be called girls.

 

But we will spend the weekend together

and act like girls,

a little. 

And then like therapists.

We will talk and laugh,

and maybe even cry.

 

We will walk and eat and

just be

together

for awhile.

 

Not very long,

but just long enough

to heal our souls.                                                       

NaPoWriMo #5 - Wild Thing

I see my grandson

at two,

running wild,

his orange curls

bouncing with each step.

He jumps and runs and climbs

with so much energy

so much fierce joy.

 

And I wonder

when do we lose that?

The breakneck rush

into the world

excited to go

to do

to see

to experience?

 

When do we become cautions,

of people

of the world

of our own selves?

 

We learn to  

hedge our bets and

couch our opinions in qualifiers

so as not to upset anyone, anything.

We water down our desires,

expect less,

express less,

enjoy life less.

 

And how do we get it back?

That vibrant life,

that wild joy

we all once had                                        

 

Sometimes Life is Like That

 

My hair flaps in the wind

like a fist-full of grey ribbons,

as I stand on the ridge top

pouring curses

into the sky.

 

No one hears me,

which is lucky,

I guess,

unless

 

hearing is a good thing.

Unless knowing is a good thing.

 

All the happy families

curdle in my mouth.

Their photos curl

and singe at my touch.

 

A picket fence of sins

stretches

before me,

and I kiss each one

goodbye,

though I love them so.

Then I shiver out of my straight jacket
and run towards the event horizon of my life
curious to see how it ends.

 

 

 

 

In the Field of the Sky Ponies

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I'll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass the world is too full to talk about.” Rumi.

Meet me in the field

that has no fence,

where the sky ponies graze,                                                      

above the earth

and beyond the heavens

 

Here we can speak

of all the things we keep hidden

as we lay in the grass

holding hands

 

Here our secrets shine and spin

then burn out,

their powers spent

 

Here our truths seed the prairie

that grows and blooms

beyond all sight

 

Here we are safe

Here we are sacred

The image Indigo Sky Mares, by Laurel Burch is provided as a writing prompt by The Sunday Muse.