companions

One of my companions during this journey has been fear. I have come to know him quite well. I know his smell. Its vaguely the smell of burnt coffee mixed with a sweet perfume. I know the taste of fear. It is metal. It collects in the back of your throat, lump-style, and feels like it might choke you.  Fear pops up randomly sometimes. Other times it is when you receive news that should scare you. Fear doesn't miss the opportunity to make sure you know he is there. I have read, discussed, cried, begged, shouted and swore about how to get rid of this unpleasant companion.  The last article said I should bring light into the situation to offset the darkness of fear. The method it suggested for bringing light in was to do something to fix the problem that is causing you fear. The treatment I am going through is what I'm doing, but its pretty scary itself so it doesn't bring much light in.  But there are other forms of light. Yesterday I spent hours on the phone with a DNA consultant that is doing genetic research on my form of cancer. I was wrecked after the conversation and fear offered to come sit with me and keep me company. I let him for awhile until the rainbow man appeared and filled my house with rainbows.  And then the crocodile woman came snapping at my pain and bringing me comfort. Fear started easing toward the front door. And there are others who show up with laughter and such caring that fear begins to gag from all the love and has to take a break.  I know he'll be back but everyday I find new ways to keep him at bay. And if I can't then I rant and rave and cry and that brings some relief and fear backs away a little. I am not by nature a positive person but by the time this is over you may not even recognize me. Or at least maybe fear will be a little less likely to want to hang with me.

everyone loves Raymond

I am home again. I went to Florida for my mother's memorial service. I spent a week there enjoying Quality time with my favorite (and only) sister. Loads of tears and laughter, sadness and grief and just being together.

My flight home was a nightmare. It is usually a one and half hour flight. This time fog prevented us from landing and we were diverted to an alternative airport and ended up spending six hours on the plane. But obviously I survived without going into a panic and screaming at anyone.

Today I was determined to write but a refrain kept playing in my head saying how much I don't want to live this life I have now. Finally, I was able to talk back to that negative voice and say this is the life I have now and I am determined to make the best of it and enjoy life as much as I can. There are things to be grateful for...

ok Denise, not profound or humorous as something you could write but.. I did write 3+ sentences  ...it is a start.

It is what it is...

Yes my life is still topsy-turvy, surreal almost. Since this summer my father has moved into an assisted living facility. Sometimes he loves it and sometimes he is confused and frustrated. My mother will pass any time now...probably today or tomorrow. Wise Owl is away again, and we hope daily she will return with the strength and beauty that we know are inside her. And if all this wasn't enough cancer has now fallen into my lap. It is not an easy cancer, treatable but not curable and I have just started chemo treatments. I haven't been able to do what I usually do for others, like go to Florida to be with my family, to spend more time with Wise Owl, not being able to work...I am feeling useless and irrelevant. Not sure who I am. But there has been so much love extended too. My husband is amazing, my family is loving and friends have provided food and support in many different ways. So as life tends to be, it is a mixed bag. Sometimes I have dreams of running away to Bali but that being a nonsensical fantasy I will trudge on following the only path I have at the moment...

kaleidoscope

broken, smoldering, pleading yet

sometimes a flame of crimson...blazing,

bright and fierce...too hot to touch...

we cower in terror

 for she who comforts also burns

spinning in tiny circles, floating above

in a perplexed and weary refrain

the edges blur into a cacophony

of pain and despair

Grey, smoldering ashes with

tiny sparks of fire that flare and fade

into bleak and somber quiet. 

in the quiet she dreams

a muddled  kaleidoscope

of all she was and wants to be

snowmen ride on swans

and demons haunt her sleep

soft skin, gentle scent of 

something akin to life and love

rising in the night to pacify

the fretful fears of the weak and helpless.

unyielding embrace of solace hold me now

to have and to hold

Small fragile fear, like the wing of a bird…

gently fluttering overhead. 

then the vast storm that sweeps in

and seals the room in its fury

blowing about until nothing is

left but meaningless words

and timeworn stories.

Sometimes you are drowning

in the darkness

hoping to find something
to hold on to...            

But other times you are waiting 

for the giraffe...the one
you've always wished to have...
a lion comes but you send
him away knowing it is not
what you need.

For a moment you follow

the sweet fragrance 

of freedom and escape.

It is an illusive aroma
that leads you to the edge
of the abyss
and suddenly you are spinning,

your feet planted firmly

yet sensing the turn of the earth

until someone takes

your hand and the twirling stops

The startling silence is broken

by the voice

that will navigate you through

the strong current that threatens

to send you adrift  in the river,

lost forever

under the sky so clear

it holds no clues

to finding your way back.

spin and twirl

I embrace the rain.
I escape the
shrinking walls,
to soar on damp
passages that
steer me to a
fresh point
of view.
My eyes meet
the eyes of
the homeless,
the lost,
and the guide.
 I become
each one 

in turn.
I wait,
I search,
I follow.
Then aimless
and drifting
I spin and twirl
and lurch forward
toward home.
And there
find solace
in the songs
and whispers
of the
night.

inside and out

We had a storm tonight.

the kind that shakes

the foundation of your

house and soul.

Window panes

rattled, lightning

filling the darkness

with bright flashes

of light. The thunder

matched the pounding

in my chest. The heavy

downpour brought the

start of my own tears.

The wind is still

pummeling against the

walls and I no longer

know if the storm is

coming from outside

or inside me.

I sit where you

once were and let

it all wash over me.

Maybe it will make

it all seem real

again.

Or maybe

it will float

to a further distance

where I can hold it

forever in my heart.

downpour

No sleep. My mind racing 100 mph. The lump in my throat growing bigger. The knot in my stomach is rising and soon will meet the lump in my throat and cut off my breathing all together.  Heart pounding, head throbbing, eyes refusing to close. Loud claps of thunder fill the room so that there is little space left for anything else. Then it comes...the sound of heavy rain soaking the ground and easing my spirit. Lulling me into sleep and rest and hope for tomorrow.

just one...

 

A tiny trace

The smallest hint

A gossamer allusion

To what was before

 Sends her in swift retreat

To the murky recesses

Of the corner closet

Cradled in shadows

Wrapped in a mantle

Of moonlight

That trickles through

The window and

Presses into the cracks

And crevices filling

The dark sanctuary

With a glimmer of light

Which she grasps

With both hands

As the floor falls

Beneath her and

She floats into the

Starless night sky…

vavava voom

Bone against bone

Flesh against flesh

We each suffer in our own way

The old man

Shakes his fist at the moon

The young girl sits in her

Room knitting purple thread

Into a sacred cloth

That will blanket her pain

And the heat, oh god, the heat

 The drops of rain evaporating

Into steam as soon as they

Hit the pavement.

The blond twins smiling as

They order wine and appetizers

All the voices in the room

Dissolving into a dull roar

Of laughter and empty words

 While her eyes search the crowd

For that one face that will

Recognize and know her for

Who she is and not just

Love her for her stylishly

Tilted hat and her green

Coat with the fox-trimmed collar

Signs

I'm always searching for signs. The night of the Full Buck Moon, when its light flooded my room, anointing me with good fortune, I began looking for signs to confirm the blessing that had been bestowed on me.  And for the right music...I listen to music sometimes to find hidden messages from the universe...kind of like a soundtrack for my life. Earlier this week I was driving to the hospital for my father's surgery and fervently searching for some symbol of hope to hold on to when Leonard Cohen's 'Hallelujah' began to play. I looked out my window as hundreds of birds suddenly rose up from a thicket I was passing. The birds, the song...it was awe- inspiring. I knew I had received my sign.....but from who? God, the universe, or do we create our own signs to comfort ourselves?  Of course that afternoon while eating steak in a country roadhouse I heard the song, 'Cause the more I drink...the more I drink.'  I think I'll stop looking for signs.

tiny slices

Watching the world

through the slats of the blinds

The soft breeze

Blowing the bamboo leaves

The drops of rain

On every tree glistening

In the evening sun

I think I like life better

In tiny slices through the blinds

Instead of all at once.

under his wing

The man she used to love

stood outside her window

offering tea and oranges.

 He wrote a message

on the back of a maple leaf

ripping it from the tree

and letting the wind take

It from his fingers.

The same message was

written in braille on his

wrist and all she had to

do was take his hand

and touch the words

with her fingertips.

Instead she let her hand

rest on the smooth

bodhi seeds and glide

past the turquoise bead.

She felt the words enter her

heart and  take hold

growing wings and flying

out of her chest…out of the window…

past the man she used to love

and finally soaring up toward

grey clouds and

disappearing forever.

whispers in an empty room

 She sat in the silence of the tomb

and opened the  envelope  

 now empty and torn,

though it once held

a letter written on

perfume-scented paper decorated

with lavender flowers .

She knew the words by heart

reciting them to anyone

who might listen.

If she could give them all away,

then the words may

 have a life of their own

spiraling past chimney smoke

And gabled roofs to travel

to stuffy and cold sitting rooms

in far-away places,

each syllable finding a path

that will secure its own immortality

and flaunt  contempt

for those who hear the whispers

of the wind and mistake it for

their own voice.

bask

I took a deep breath,

And in the sacred moment between taking in breath

And letting it out,

I searched for a tiny bit of silence.  

Seeking that one infinitesimal second that

miraculously holds

The entire universe in a diminutive space…

But there was something missing.

Something out of kilter, something askew.

I turned in rage against those to blame

For its absence.

I found many to reproach for being

Inept and careless.

They had ruined my peace and

Must be held accountable.

And when they had been reprimanded soundly

I sent them on their way and out of my life.

I was sure I would find the harmony I needed.

But there was always one person left.

No matter how severely I accused her

She was still there…repentant and sorrowful,

begging for absolution…

I don’t think she’s going away.

She may be the one that was

Sent to save my life or for me to

Save hers.

So we simultaneously breathe and hope and let go

in silent contrition.

coupling

It's New Year's Eve again when my thoughts turn to failures and disappointments of not only the last year but the last decade. Why don't I concentrate on and celebrate the successes?  But instead my mind turns to the dark side...

Which brings me to something I noticed while visiting family during the holidays...and am especially aware of tonight...New Year's Eve, aka Couples Night. If you don't have a date for New Year's Eve is it really a fate worse than death?  In Florida I was keenly aware of the coupling of America.  I watched the care my mother gave my father after 54 years of marriage, met my sister's new beau who spent Christmas with us, marveled at the  lament of a 10-year old girl about boys in her class,  listened to the discussions of other married couples in my family and wondered about the homeless couple huddled together on a bench under an umbrella clinging to each other for warmth...I also went to four movies this vacation and all of them, if not directly about relationships, had some romantic content.  This includes the newest Disney film which had the usual prince/princess conflict to be resolved as well as a cajun firefly who was in love with a star he mistook for another firefly.  It's everywhere! And most of the time I'm okay with that but on New Year's Eve I start to feel the void, question whether I will always be the woman men love but are not in love with and if being just me will ever be enough?

"The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved... loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves."  - Victor Hugo

missing the guinea hen

 I have nothing left to give

since the  guinea hen disappeared.

I considered giving the magenta morning sky

 or the flock of geese in v-formation

 but instead I offer the gift of pain

because it is what I know best.

I will sit with you and shed light on

the charm of misery and despair,

that is yours  for a song.

Together we can sing the ballad

that will capture the anguish

and fill your soul with the

exquisite ache.

Then we will weep in somber unison

when the geese take flight

at first light through the pink skies of dawn

everything being a constant carnival...

Four days into a new work week and where's the clarity? Seems I need the open road in order to think clearly.

She rode sixteen ferris wheels

in one afternoon,

each one spinning

faster than the last.

Synchronized revolutions

of light and motion

left her shaken and wobbly.

She stumbled into an open field

where an old oak waited

to offer her refuge.

She was cradled in his

knotted limbs,

her head against

his coarse bark.

She begged to stay for 300 years,

there in the shady respite.

But as she slept the sounds of the

carnival plagued her rest.

Frenzied screams of terror

or delight interrupted

her dreams.

Unable to sleep she

left the comfort of the oak

and staggered drowsily

back to the fray,

back to the wild rides.

Buying sixteen more tickets,

and with a nod to the moon,

she mounted the ride,

braced herself against the side

and began to spin again...

Day 2

Under close scrutiny

she came unraveled

trying to hold secrets

that weren't hers to keep.

Poked and prodded by

strange instruments meant

to cure her of her ills,

she receded further into

silence.

Dreams of gnarled hands,

poisonous snakes and

paths that never end

haunted her sleep.

Her only plan was

to return to the

edge of the precipice

and hope for

forward motion.

wild dogs

Enough already
she told me to say.
He said to end my
attraction to the past
and find adventure.
He touched her
pink shirt with
warm fingers of love
and I finally knew
he was where he should be.
Leaving me with the cobbler,
staring at my shoes,
and calculating the cost
before I even asked.
finding what I need while
smoking cigarettes and
drinking whiskey.
the moon coaxing me
to leave myself and
run with the wild dogs,
in search of the lost path.
If you hear my story
cry for me,
smile for me
rescue me...