Posts for June 2, 2021 (page 8)

The birds are flying,
hills remember green again –
at last I can breathe.
*
Two crows watching me
from their gentle, piercing perch.
Do you think they know?
*
I can’t see the rain –
just the popping, dancing rings
in the mud puddle.

I want you,
and not just parts of you.
I want everything
the sins and sorrows
hauntings and hallows.
Give it all to me, my love.
Lay your aching bones on my mantle.
Dust off your battle garments
war did not follow you here.
Rest with me
in this pocket of space.
The demons and ghouls
cannot cross
my threshold.
And then, when you are ready
give me your body too.
It may be covered in dirt and scars
but I too have seen my share of destruction.
You do not have to shy away
I see all of you, and I want you.

     C. Marie

As the crimson fluid leaves,
It slows and darkens,
Before long it is stale and black,
Losing its trademark crimson color,
The formerly crimson fluid remains the same though,
A potent carrier of life,
Able to bring back those near death,
But the reaper demands a fair trade,
To bring one back from the brink,
The owner must know what the reapers embrace feels like,
Soon after the world becomes cold,
Becoming blurrier and darker with every microsecond,
A feeling of uneasiness enveloping them,
Then nothing,
Only only silent emptiness is experienced,
Before being returned back to the world of the living,
That crimson fluid flowing within us brings life to others,
While drawing in the reaper to exact a fair exchange

I worry as only a mother can
About a time when I am gone
And you are bereft of root and branch
To tether you to life when the winds of fate buffet
And threaten your footing.

But then your conclave is convened
And people who love you fiercely and truly
Despite and because they know
You to your core both fault and fame
and your roots have grown together.

All of you bright and shining people
With glittering futures promised
Link arms before taking flight
Secure in the knowledge
That each will provide a safe landing for the others.

Pessimists, wanting a new life,

dream only by night. Silence

builds a strong distaste in their mouths. 

Change imagery requires dreaming by day 

but pessimists diet on rowdy words

that don’t deliver. Bold words that 

just sound strong. The wind, thwarted 

by nothing, blows them away. 

Those of us who can tolerate 

silence secretly hold promising words 

in our day dreams.  

Trying to define mother love
struggling to form word miracles,
the unfolding of life’s sacred wonder
is the experience of profound joy,
from lullabye comfort to inspired beauty.
all my daughters inspire wisdom.

For all my daughters’ wisdom
has led me to recognize love
as a star-strewn path to beauty
where conflicts throw out miracles
and obstacles instigate joy,
leading a mother to wonder.

Each daughter is a wonder
growing into wisdom
bringing with her, joy
and extending outward, love
and no one knows the miracles
that had to happen for beauty.

Turning pain into beauty
these daughters are a wonder,
they were already miracles
and came early to wisdom,
choosing to grow love
and trade pain for joy.

And when they embraced joy
it was erudite beauty,
for the task of choosing love
at any age is a wonder,
and those who have wisdom
recognize true miracles.

For my daughters are miracles
and their joy is my joy.
They have given their wisdom.
 They have shared their beauty.
They have made me wonder
at their forgiving mother love.

The miracles of being a mother,
all the joy and lifelong wonder,
come from the wisdom of my daughters’ love.

K. Waterbury

With apologies to Pistol Annies

I hope you’re the beginning of my story,

my once upon a time.

I hope you’re the page where my life begins.

I hope you’re the adventure of my lifetime.

I’ll be your princess if you’ll take my hand

and run away with me to distant lands.

So run your fingers through my pages

and let’s weave a tale together

about two lovers

who step into forever.

Let’s write our story.

Let’s spill some ink.

Let’s make it epic.

Let’s make it sweet.

I hope you’re the beginning of my story.

I hope you’re the page where my love begins.

I know our story will never end.

I’m going to love you all the way

until happily ever after.

“She held the child and whispered
With calm, calm, ‘belong'” ~R.E.M, Belong

Roots reach down and out,
suck water
from black earth
with a force to move,
like heart moves
thick blood in veins.

There’s more motion in a tree
than once has patience to see.
Held firm by roots, 
branches reaching up and out.
Wants to see over the mountain
once.

Drink more.
Quench generations of thirst.
Let roots grow you wild.
Heart free only in this familiar ground.
“To breathe at the thought of such freedom.”
Belong. 

Like a glacier, melt the layers
you accumulated over years,
the aches of your heart.

contemplate how a turtle pokes 
a circle wave in the kindness
of water, visible or conjured;

absorb, reflect, a beacon. Stitch
yourself back into yourself,
into creation’s fabric.