Oh if i were young
life would be done differently
you would be the one
A few days back, these grape hyacinths were at their peak. As they stood attention, bees collected pollen while the days faded. All holding a promise, that tomorrow, faith rests on fate.
I believe in today. And see the grand scheme rise up before me. I put my hand to the soil and till the earth. Spread my pocketful of seeds with a smile. And water the dirt with tears knowing this too will pass.
grandma at the kitchen stove
stirring her pickles
hidden kittens purr
i feeding the baby calf
bowl full of cow’s milk
My Promise Garden arose from my grandfather’s suicide. The vision grows wherever I land. I have held this dream in my heart for 32 years. It only vanishes with my last breath.
(I have written about My Promise Garden, my brother, and my personal struggles before. They reside, buried in this ever evolving blog’s pages. Maybe those words will bud and blossom too. If I ever find the energy, I may edit my raw words into something more elegant. Until then, I rest in my meager efforts to get across how precious time is. Thank you friends.)
Most people endeavor to do life justly and loyally. Although we learn early on just how broken life becomes once the safety of home (our minds and bodies) is lost.
Why should we toil when a flower blooms eloquently without second guessing the push to find the sun?
In fertile soil
promise of milk and honey
hungry bellies bulge
Is it only our thoughts that cause us to fail? “I lack confidence in my voice.” “I tremble at everything I do.” “I worry this charade is a show put on to please.” Sound familiar? Or is there more to life than waking up?
Each day we should learn to take the path of least resistance. We have what we need to grow built into our DNA. You are alive and a million possibilities await.
And when life becomes totally unbearable, when we fail, that too is just. For it is then we learn forgiveness. To stare into a stranger’s eyes and whisper, “I welcome you friend.”
To tend the minute
winding details around time
mapping each morsel
bleakness had settled
flower chain woven through blues
she smiled again
Last autumn’s effort to plant 100’s of Holland bulbs has satisfied my need to erase this sickly air. I will plant more bulbs again in September. The emotional and spiritual satisfaction is worth the intense physical labor of hole digging.
to the sea and back
one warm sunny day and then
snow captured my head