Here Now

Summer flies south
on the backs of geese.
Honking, in hopes
to avoid a crash.

I linger a bit longer
on the shore.
Watch their flight,
as they disappear.

Hid behind the wild blues,
berries to consume.
I wonder how the waves to splash,
without their groom.

slightest cut lets in life

Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.

Like Dicken’s “Tale of Two Cities” I have lived a tale of polar opposites. I have known a dark night of the soul and the fresh morning dew of enlightenment.

No memories can ever be forgotten but they can be forgiven. And the forgiveness allows me to wake up and be grateful for everything. Even the memories that still cause sharp pains. Those are the memories that led me to despair and wrestle in a black, plastic garbage bag until I finally took the knife, I once used against myself, and started cutting open breathing holes.

Coming into my own.

My own space. Mostly in my head. Yet, I stretch my arms up and out.

Fear diminishes. Courage sets in and becomes comfortable. Silence.

An awakening. Your idea of me no longer digs into my heart.

The match you hold hangs over my head. I close my eyes. Pray instead.

My Promise Garden

Finding strength
in the oaks and white pines, bird song and Spring Peepers.
On dragonfly wings
I glide among all things.

As the Monarch rises, I am magic in ordinary occasions.

The sunrise and sunset
the morning dew and evening showers.
Bring me a path unseen
I will walk among the flowers.

Hey peoples!!!

I have missed this place. I have missed you.

So what has been going on? So much!!! Sitting under a poetry mentor. Restructuring old poetry and finding myself. Taking piano lessons. Working on Mozart and Tchaikovsky pieces.

I start a new volunteer position in a women’s homeless shelter directing an art therapy group in mid-June. After i take a solo travel trip to Nantucket.

The daily weather is cooperating so tending to my new garden in Harvard Massachusetts. It has been almost a year that we moved to the Boston area. Busy picking up sticks winter strewn about the yard and wondering where to station a summer writing cabin. The best of my days are spent sitting atop prospect hill, watching the sunsets.

I hope to be able to spend more time here at WP. I do hope.

😘❤️🐚 jeanne

Craving…

All those details in life… begging feedback. I am so unsure of myself. My glasses either need adjusting or my self-esteem could use a boost. Perhaps a week, sunning on Florida sands, lapping up the beams of light, will readjust my outlook.

I wonder, will a halo appear above my head? Or maybe I am forever destined to carry a pitchfork with me, to crumble the ice surrounding my heart.

My thoughts triumphant… they scarcely tell the true story of the conscience. I am not sure i would take the dare to display the rocks tumbling in my stomach. Beauty is fleeting.

I try.

Yesterday taught me a lesson. Simplify. Everything. Until I realize I’ve let go of everything I believed in. Even the mountains crumble. Their majestic prowess is destined to fall. Pride is best kept humble.

So those cravings? I let them go too. To wonder how he is doing, too sacred to know.

covetous

something -draws me in -cool breath -kissed cheek -cant speak -you or me -not gone -not here -vows given and mistakes made -this game -God forgives -i break the chains -torn mind -blame shame -my heart entwined -two masters -damned life -rewind the reel -see the thrill -sit at Your feet -hear Your voice speak -my soul twirl, twirl, twirls.

thoughts unleashed…

Well… you and i made it to experience another year on earth. I hope the approaching 365 days is good to you… full to the brim with positive thoughts, new adventures, reinforced friendships, old and new, with plenty of time spent writing and working on your craft. Or perhaps experimenting with a new method of expressing yourself. In short, here is to a creative 2019 of souling!

Be well beautiful people. Be well. Jeanne 💙💙💙🎶