Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Maya


You ripped open my heart with your words.
Exposing yourself
to your bones
revealing your scars to the world
you opened the cage door
and flew,
soared into a life you forged.
You tempered trouble into strength,
misery into mercy,
loss into love.
You did not let color/race/gender
hold you back.
You did the impossible
making us believe
we too could live in possibility.

Sunday, May 18, 2014

Summer approaches

I have never been a fan of Summer.

It was the lonely time between school years, bereft of friends, full of boredom unless I had a book in hand.

It seems that I struggle with depression the most in Summer. I don't like heat. I don't like mosquitoes.
I am not a swimsuit/pool/beach person. I burn easily. I don't like to sweat.

Yet this summer I am anticipating a change. A shift in perspective.
I am planting herbs. I am pulling weeds. I am mowing my own yard.
I am trying to connect with the verdant, lush Earth in a way I have not before.
I am getting my hands dirty, digging in dirt, spying earthworms.

I am trying to find new life. I am hopeful that perhaps I can grow to like (maybe even love?) the fruits of Summer. One plant, one weed at a time.

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Mother's Day 2014

25 years since I heard your voice,
felt your touch,
saw your face,

Yet, you are as present in my heart
as the day I was born.

Flashback: Spring 1966
I remember the sensation
of being held and rocked.

Your heart beating beneath my ear,
your voice singing a lullaby.

I remember the distinct mother smell
that clung to you and wish I could breathe
in your scent one more time.

How I, a middle aged woman,
long to be that child again.
Being rocked and held,
sang to and loved beyond all reason
simply because I was yours.