Tag Archives: Healing
I triedDivine Self
Certain and truthful
Your divine self
Not a deity
But still so damn divine
Super and powerful
And superpower filled
Finally and fiercely
Shall step in
Save the day and declare
You’re an unwounded warrior
Don’t you know?
Not Home: A Haiku
My years-long freedive
Into this clear-delusion
I need to divulge
In Our Fifties
Our chartreuse-colored love
The ugly chair now, that we don’t wish to sit in or admit brought comfort, respite
Nor will we throw it away
We mourn it in the kitchen like a death
Seemingly forever, while surrounded with casseroles of comfort food brought to us by well-meaning “friends”
We watch it as an epic film of someone else’s life
Sitting in the dark, screaming at the screen, warning of their err, fall from grace, then trauma
We escape it with our wanderlust-filled travels near and far
Photographing nature, plus wild wildlife who in-turn, chase us as we sleep, pseudo-nightmares that wake us at 3am
We do this
You, there, and me, here
Silk and brocade-covered hardwood frames we were and we are
Camaraderie and adventure that was to have brought us peace
Closure to the aching
What color was it initially, before the fade, we ask ourselves over and over
What we know for certain — it was an heirloom love
Before the spit up and sweaty workaday clothes soiled it
Before the pained animals in us tore it to shreds
Before our childhood loneliness, unresolved, relegated us to our corners in our fifties — upper lips bloodied, both of us
Walking attachment disorders, detached by default, from each other
All in one, single day
Eventually, we go to the curb with this shredded chartreuse thing
Pack up and move far away
Looking from the rear-view mirror at what was, we draw others’ ire as we drive too-slow down that road
It is always dusty Summer in our hearts’ mind’s eye
Praise Jesus: A Haiku
All the words I have
Flowing from my heart to yours
Now begin to ebb
Screaming Chicken
The wind will not rest
It’s simply will not
Nor shall the sun go down on your calamity
Unending prayers sent up
I, each eve’
Displacing your sleep
If you wonder when it will stop
When the quiet will find you
Come to me in courage
Screaming on your knees
To say goodbye
Fruitful Be
Our story is not final, Yo
Our shame can take a seat
The last train car, in the back row
As Universe defeats
That rusted coupler is removed
By strength of warriors, we
Pain of ten lifetimes is soothed
Healed now, fruitful be
Wordgirl
It will disappoint you to find, today I have nothing to say to you
Except that I am healing
And I’ve hung a do not disturb sign on my heart, so to that end, beside my bedside — a candle that smells like the sun
But too, our beach and the suntan lotion I smoothed onto your skin well over a year ago
Well into the midnight hour, it burned, and I felt like the irresponsible teen-aged girl I was when we met
Read: Carefree
Good timing, for today is to be an unseasonably warm December day
Without a coat, I’ll work out the difficult feelings while out in the yard, raking one last time before the snow flies
When the last of those magnolia leaves fall later this coming week, I won’t give a damn
I’ll be busy recalling the days when you cared to caution me to please drive safely in the snow
You didn’t want to lose me to accident or injury — you’ve forgotten that, but I forgive you
Silently in my head, I pray these days for your safety too, knowing you never thought much of my prayers
Or my help
Or my written and spoken and demonstrated sentiment
Or my too-small home, where I tried to keep us well
And Christmas is coming
And you won’t be here
And I may mail you a gift and a card, because, after all, I love you more today than I did yesterday, or the day before
My gift and my card would convey this, plus give you one last opportunity before year’s end to ignore again my olive branch
I’m looking forward to the coming decade, despite that it’s looking like I won’t know you then
About your birthdays, I’ll still celebrate them
I woke up at 2am to tell you, I have nothing left to tell you that I’ve not been sure to have already said
A wordgirl gone reluctantly silent with you
Accept that I am healing
Said And Done
I speak for the masses
The sides of me inside of me
The arrested phases that do not know how to grow
The girl who grew, too tall too soon
Somewhere in there, a woman walks
Head held high, chin and forehead gently jutted
To the sun, she says
And she does
She does love
To do, to be
She questions me
To lead in love
That gives me pause
First steals my breath, then intuits me to question her back
What of the times you sought to love, to befriend
To be a friend, although in need?
They knew nothing of love!
Friendship foreign to them, they offered an attack
An inevitable abandonment
This is life, and you cannot opt out
You cannot, too, jump ship
You cannot not love, friend
She says to me
She strides onward
To the sun
Blackbird
I’ll never trust your eyes
Always flashing early, often
Happy speaking lies against a good, good heart
I trust the strangers
Never needing to have seen
Somehow know the truth of me
I trust the front-yard flowers, too
Sometimes August-blooming poppies
Just for me, in June instead
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