The Changing States of Unions
upon which we lay our loyalties.
To Thirteen Heroes
there is a life
worse than you think yours is
one you hadn’t imagined
that redefines your image
and little to do
stop all of it
just this of it
i have been in hospital and skilled nursing facility since 2/7. i’m going home with 24 hour care tuesday. tripped on a small block while watching the church kids. broke right tibia, knee, wrist. some surgery already. more to follow in a few months. so it will be a long slow recovery. more sometime next week…maybe even a fiction challenge. meanwhile, a short poem:
When You Watched Me Sleep – A Love Poem
I asked you to go home
of other days
but you said
you wanted to watch me sleep.
we let ourselves
just for a moment or two.
Today is the first day, in a week, that I’ve not only been out of bed but also able to somewhat function. A cold? The flu? My everyday trips – taking my best friend for her radiation – were turned over to the loving care of others. I think I’ll be up and well by Monday. Yay!
I came online and saw this week’s photograph for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. It reminded me of a poem I wrote about three years ago. The poem was originally titled The Places We Go For Comfort and other parts of it have been reworked as well. Since I’m still not up to feeling too creative, I’ll post this and hope I’ll be back to writing stories again next week.
So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge. Our photo is provided by Jade Wong.
The Truth About Absinthe Fields
I’d hardly advise
to take the first offer
into his bed.
How could I be
if you must,
go on and take it
– during the cocktail hour –
before those naughty green fairies
come out to play.
Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate the day!
Oh my goodness! I want to try this again. So it’s a story born from a poem I wrote a while back. What I’m attempting these days. Story is first and poem follows.
Here is the picture and my submission for this week:
She spread a deck of tarot cards on the table. Our eyes met. I was but a traveler attending a week-end concert. She was but a link to something unknown to me. I met her gaze and watched her lay down the cards of my life.
Boats on the river passed by. From one there sounded a calliope whispering the past to me.
I was a lost soul. She drew me in. She touched me. The sun set golden. Images of hope appeared.
End of story
A tiny camper
rushing by on the freeway
passed other cars
put me in that camper
on some sparse land
surrounded by silence
and blue skies
searching for anchors
Ever since May, I am driving my best friend to her breast cancer treatments Last week, we started the every day radiation – and hopefully last – part of her treatment.
I view life in a different way these days. My friend really needs my care. She needs this time to be all about her and helping her keep going with her treatments and to encourage her. And I intend to stand by and be there for her. Her life is teaching me so much about my own. And she says mine is teaching her.
On the other hand Ive been examining my own life. I don’t have children and live far from my family of origin. There has never been anyone in my life who has really needed my care before. Nonetheless, I have taken good care of those, close to me in my life, more – I believe – than was necessary or healthy for anyone. It’s become tiring, actually. And I have decided not to do that any longer.
I don’t know how I will carry out this or exactly what I want to accomplish in order to put myself first. I just know that something will be accomplished. My friend has another month of radiation. That gives me four weeks to feel my way through this. I, along with many others, wasn’t raised to take care of myself. I’ve heard about the concept and embrace it…living it will change my life.
There are such fragile balances to work out in life. I don’t doubt I can work them out, I just hate chaos.
If you’re still here, here’s a poem I wrote about this:
My Blue Kitchen
We morph into something
someone unknown to us
and no one notices
until we are caught in the kitchen
Here is this week’s photograph and a poem:
We cannot fight the wrath
of human nature
nor escape its outcome
nor wonder its destruction
years from now
when even ancient cypress trees have died.
I would die with them
but choose to live in the ruins
I’m left wondering.
This week’s photo prompt is provided by Barb CT of the blog, Gallimaufry. Thank you Barb!
Everything Silent In Between
I’d like to wake up
to squawking peacocks
and cow bells sounding from the meadow
but not forever
surely thirty days each year
is penance enough
to be hearing morning peacocks squawking
and cow bells sounding from the meadow
with everything silent in between
thirty days each year
When You Brought Me Red Carnations In October
You came home
with a bunch of red carnations.
I thought of March
in New Orleans.
St. Joseph’s Day.
Old and young men parading about
holding out red carnations
for a kiss.
I put them in a white vase
to symbolize the white carnations
without a kiss in return.
photo via nola.com/yahoo images (please click photo for more