Beyond spring
into summer’s dread heat
out past Amish hunting stand
we dodge Tangle Briar,
shedding rot of dead ash,
as nothing breaks the crunch
of dried cattail
except heartbeat shelved
inside your blue sleeves;
at last, in silence,
we achieve the far reach
of Hawks Point
Now with monocular
spying on red-winged black birds
in maternal flit amid thistle
bloom, you sit where wild rose
pricks an ankle and lick
the red drops as if in thirst
for the liquor of faithfulness
The garden, a continuation of my shelter
A strap around the house, the temple’s atrium
Witness of never-ending tiny revolutions
Of reds and greens overthrowing the cold’s destructive powers
Lumps here, lumps there
Lumps of life everywhere
Voting for a colorful tomorrow
Choosing hope over the evident approach of snow
Resist
Remain
Allow my soul’s tender grass to find strength
Water and oxygen delivered through the photosynthesis of hugs
Grounding my footed roots to a fruitful soil
The garden, a continuation of my shelter
A strap around the house, the temple’s atrium
Witness of never-ending colossal revolutions
Of resilience of trees and armies of beasts
A range of veined leaves, stoic trunks, alluring petals
Sum of sounds and scents
Gracious movement to nature’s pace
Respect
Take care
Listen to the quiet conviction of Mother Earth
Who knows we are nothing but a second
In here timeless beingness
Base of mountain
A gunman was spotted crouching by the vet clinic’s windows
causing a two-hour lockdown on Wednesday a hump day.
My veterinarian daughter works there, her place of employment
not a battleground but a haven for sick animals.
Via text she informed her sister and me after the fact.
Still nervous and on edge inside. What if’s fill my head and
heart. A mother more than five hours away can only wring her
hands and heart and pray. She is mom to young boys aged six and
eight. What if? Gun violence is not new to my family but real.
In 1985 my adult sister was kidnapped from a Florida mall
parking lot. She survived physically but carries deep emotional
wounds as we do. When will it stop?
My new neighbor helped me
make Thanksgiving dinner
the year I was first alone.
It’s impossible to forget
such a kindness–
it enters us somehow,
becomes one with the bloodstream,
breathes with us,
in and out,
absorbs into the lining
of the lungs, attaches to our blood
cells, flows through the scarlet-lined
arteries into the tingling capillaries,
pumped by the beating red
of the heart.
the bone and stone cut off from light
from any sense of each other
open bones whistle under ground
converting whispers into stone
the bones can never sing a song
the stones will ever learn to hold
They killed off the remaining animals of his species,
to raise the value
of his loneliness.
Author: Marin Bodakov
Translator: Katerina Stoykova
I stopped worrying about weeds
stop worrying about weeds
stop worrying weeds
stop worrying
stop worry
stop
