Running with Scissors

Well, not scissors.  X-acto knives to be accurate.  And we were not really running either, at least not most of the time.  My daughter and I were mostly seated with X-acto knives, but that isn't a very catchy title, is it?  Anyway, we took our X-acto knives and some painting cavasses stretched on wood frames and cut out trees, then painted them.  I did the black one and my daughter did the white.  And I thought they turned out tolerably well.

 

 

The Sunday Muse 156

 

Image Anthony Edwards in "Northfolk"

The voices in my head

all agree it's

time.

They whisper

then laugh at me

and my feeble attempts

to navigate through another day

another labyrinthian set of interactions

 

with my fellow humans.

Why is it so difficult?

How can I find the courage

yet again

to face each one,

when every

 

meeting,

every conversation,

is a pit with sharpened sticks

waiting for me to fall

and impale myself upon them?

 

Others don’t even notice

the red, neon signs

“DANGER”

that begin blinking above their heads

as soon as I walk up to them.

 

So once again,

I prepare to go out,

prepare to do battel with

everyone who is going about their business

so casually,

so comfortably.

 

For them it’s easy-peasy.

They have no idea

just how harrowing it is,

how exhausting it is,

every damn day.

Picture prompt from The Sunday Muse.

Wordless Wednesday - Happy St. Paddy's Day!

Guinness Bread, before baking and after.  Recipe can be found at Plantings + Pairings.

 

Wordless Wednesday - High-tech Pooch

 

Wordless Wednesday - Nap Time

 

Wordless Wednesday - Let's Go!

 

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.