I never carved a word into anything permanent because “What is truth?” anyway
studying love i discovered my blank mind was dangerously close to hypocrisy
i smoked every flavor sank my teeth into sugar rubbed my ailments with alcohol
i brushed bugs off flowers held the leash too tight fought against God
and other people’s entities draped as silver chains and golden idols of mediocrity.
I once made a pile stones stacked as fences stretching for miles
met people who stopped to wonder what energy provoked such nonsense whether we agree or disagree someone will come by and pick up a stone laid gently to stop only to be thrown
Just wonder how you write? This came to me in the past ten minutes. Is it any good? Make any sense? I throw my life into the poetic mix and wonder do my thoughts matter. Why matter anyway? Just drink my coffee and run. As always, comments are acceptable forms of relating here. Cannot say we wont misunderstand each other. But I will try my hardest to be available. Shalom, Jeanne
I hope you wouldn’t expect me to say sorry. The first half of my life was lived behind a mask of guilt, duty, shame, and lies. And then freedom arrived unannounced. As easy as life exists for clover, I too have found this summer easy. I’m living and boundless. Spreading my hope around tree trunks and watching butterflies take to the sky.
I hope autumn promises me the same. And winter pledges no harm.
Last week was a whirlwind of activity. The chicks are changing drastically every day. Wing feathers are fully formed, downy fluff is molting, and their curiosity never ends. Every time I lift the brooder lid, they come running. They think every visit is feeding time. They are settled though, and like newborns, they need lots of restful sleep. It was then time I enjoyed some drinks on the back deck. And make a few wishes. Every thing in life seems to be solidifying. My dreams I have held so long are budding.
*****I am live this morning, writing on my back porch, looking out into a forest that stretches for an often visited 2-mile hike to reach a beloved pond. Sitting here, I cannot see the pond, or what is frolicking in the gentle breeze. But I suspect there might be a few geese, a heron fishing and a water creature causing ripples. Life. It is fragile and precious. This is but one day to celebrate what will never come around again.
At one juncture, the worn path to the pond crosses over a paved road, which causes one to be cautious, before embarking the final stretch of shaded wood, wildflowers, and bird song. All life congregates at the well. There, we are watered with physical needs as well as the spray of emotional and spiritual hope. If the pond dries up, life vanishes and moves elsewhere. If one remains, stagnation settles in and death occurs. Some will chose to die that day. Fear crowds out existence. Anger builds from fear.
I sip a cup of hot coffee, warming me up to the chilly start today. And present here are flocks of flitting Goldfinches eating River Birch seeds. This occurrence happens every June. In the same tree, a young squirrel is climbing to find if I have put out food. Cautious of my presence, he decides to ramble on. I take another sip of coffee and wonder. We need boundaries. We need to recognize our safe distance from others. Not to tread heavy-footed. But to be humble and listen. To understand and love.
Come sit on the bench and reflect with me. Where is your life heading? Are you ready to give into fate? Or will you push the ending far into the future? Life gives us multiple choices and opportunities to second guess motives, decisions and contemplate how best to achieve goals. What dreams and visions occupy your time? How will you be fed? And rested?