Alphabet Soup

 Hidden River: Photography by Noelle

Hidden River: Photography by Noelle

After their all gone, I find I’m still here
Bound to earth a regular oak in the field
Captured in this moment a
Dog with her bone
Even the clock ticks slower than a
Frost’s melt
Goaded by the weight of
Hampered grief in my chest
I stand in the quiet, deciding?
Jump back in or dally
Kicking the cat
Love is at the center of all this, even as
Misery runs me down in
Narrow alleys that smell of
Old fish and over sweet
Poppies
Quit your begging at
Rama’s door, I say to the mirror
Salvation is in your
Tight belly – hungry for
Unity a
Volcanic sound blasting
With the power of
Excalibur
You are grace and beauty at the
Zenith of a transformation you command

This Abecedarian was created in the Front Range Writer’s Room hosted by Marj Hahne

Exiting

Lone Leaf Beached: photography by Noelle

Lone Leaf Beached: photography by Noelle

It felt good as done at the start. Bound, lost, no exit. Pressure to make a diamond lays on my mind. After all these years have I nothing? No smooth finish, but a stumbling out the door. Denial isn’t a river in Cairo, the old joke trails, but it is an immense watercourse in my mind. With Titan effort I withdraw and hibernate the winter. At first waiting for Godot. Then like driftwood, I surface upon a lone beach. No place to go. No direction suggests itself and after a bit, I can no longer sit. Crying. No warmth or comfort. I walk. Crying. Then walk with the most outrageous and worrisome yelling, before walking with no sound at all. First aimlessly, then with a longer stride. More determined, yet aware of what floats by me. Breath in, breath out. I no longer appear to be in any hurry. Anticipation taps at my heart. Single and free, alone on the beach. The expanse a welcome blanket and the endless sea it’s own serenade of the lover yet to come.

Inspired by The New York Times crossword puzzle: 3/11/2012. An exercise in creativity from Front Range Writers Room hosted by Marj Hahne

Great White Crane

I feel the lapping at the farthest reaches of my mind from a stone thrown centuries ago
Cracking barriers like a dam giving way
It is more effort to hold in, than to break loose
I have nothing to hold onto
Bits of sand and dust
Everything to give
What is this resistance really?
Rubber band girl
It is plain to see that with what goes out only more floods in
A dam letting loose a rivulet that becomes a stream
A river to a great delta water course gushing into the bay
That opens further to an even greater ocean
There is no purpose to these chains that bind when I have only love to give
Let it rain until the floods have washed even the mud away from my feet
I walk freely in the reeds, a great white crane

Sandhill Cranes: re-posted from Bing photo of the day by Patrick Frischknecht of Aurora Photos

Sandhill Cranes: re-posted from Bing photo of the day by Patrick Frischknecht of Aurora Photos

Kintsukuroi

Dead leaf beauty. Photography by Noelle

Dead leaf beauty. Photography by Noelle

Engulfed by grief I am driven to my knees, until back bent I am little more than a sapling in a hurricane.

Raging, fists to the sky with hunger for death in my heart I pace the hours certain of Divine betrayal. I am Shiva, Goddess of death. Blindly I plot tales of woe poor sirens must be calling to me from the deep. What wretchedness creeps into my soul as I tediously survey my faults, mistakes and missteps; no less a miser at his ledgers. There is no light. I am crawling in gravel up a mountain with no visible peak, but miles of trails that lead no where. I am confused. I am deluded. I am lost.

Still. Still. Time moves grief as a plowman’s mule. Bloodied knees always heal.

All wisps of smoke curling up into the ether now. Formless fog fading down the river of my life. The moment the last breath left my lungs it was already dead and gone, buried as my ancestors in dirt holes. Air fills the vacuum of my fading past, sweet and new.

When did I leave the bridge? What was the step that took me to the other side?

Kneeling to my sorrow now I dance to my joy. Swirling round and round free as the leaf floating on the current. The sorrow has ripped out my moorings it would seem. I drift with the river and worry not where it goes. I have already been where I could not go. With the hunger and vigor I gave freely to my rage I embrace the beauty of my life. I run with pounding heart captured by the power of my body no longer weighed by death and dark shadows. The mountain has gained no peak, but a fool’s laughter is heard along the trails.

Life, anyone’s life, is an endless sea of choices. Sing my hardy voice of love or hear it crack in the silence to a whisper.

Spit and shine, tarnish be gone. I am liquid silver, glinting in the sunlight.

Moth

Free Google Photos

Free Google Photos

A moth got into the house this morning. I noticed him because he was flopping around on the floor. His wings had likely gotten wet from the snow melt from the roof. I was about to toss him out again, but it’s only in the twenties and he couldn’t fly. I was sitting next to the gas fireplace which was on

looking at him in my hand. He must have felt the warmth of the fire as he suddenly spread out his wings so they could dry. I had the sudden image of seeing a butterfly do the same thing after a rain when I was a child. Spread its wings so the sun could dry them. I realized in my grief of late that, that is what I am doing. Spreading the wings of my heart in meditation and letting divine love warm me up and dry me off. I am too heavy to fly right now. I need to wait, open up and let the Universe warm and dry me for my next flight. I left the moth on the mantle. With luck he’ll leave my sweaters alone.