March 2014

March 29, 2014

The Touch of Laughter

tumultuous came the winter
undecided it made its’ retreat
the sun hidden in grey dark corners
such as the time you left me

you tried to return to my side
sitting within breath so shallow
your warmth cooled as by glacier snow
solidity of form now but shadow

my ear touched upon your laughter
a cool breeze then touched my skin
you would be with me as always
to hold as part of my heart within

Image Taken From Morgue File

My brother died many years ago now but the one thing that has never left me is the sound of his laughter. I cannot say how but I remember the sound of it as though it were yesterday and he is sharing that part of himself with me.

March 11, 2014March 31, 2014

Crimson Red Tide*

dodging raindrops as though
they were standing still
her mind drifts
like the tide
to another time
another page
in the day
of whose life
she knows

the wind carries salt spray
on the warm breeze
& it settles on skin
browned by the sun
& she watches her there
as she stands
taking it in

the ocean teeming with life
watered down crimson red
the tide restricted
of swimming
but she wades just a bit
bare feet greeting
the sticky warmth of it

the smell of salty air
weighed down
by the life seemingly
contained
abounds as though
someone cast
a large net
meant to capture…
but not long after
it is gone

Image Courtesy of Kai Schumman
http://wwwcdph.ca.gov

March 5, 2014March 5, 2014

Unaltered Moments

precious unaltered moments
the symmetry of which
never wavers
even when out of focus
as images do
in the memory of ones’ mind

laughter repeating
over and over again
& you know
it is completing
the song
the dance

colors languish
a day never to repeat
as no two are the same
because you know
in your heart of hearts
in another time
you will meet

Image Taken From The Morgue File

No two memories are the same. No two are alike. The resemblance ends with the many different people who have them, even though they might have been in the same place at the same time. What do you see, when you see a specific color, a winding road, a waterfall? What brings to your mind the smell of food cooking, bread baking? We each store our memories in different ways and our senses bring them alive each day that we live. In this way we are never really alone.

March 3, 2014

On Death by Kahil Gibran*

On Death
Kahlil Gibran

You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.

In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

Taken From The Morgue File

I am sure this is not new to many people as the words of Kahil Gibran are well known world wide but this particular piece taken from “The Prophet” struck me as particularly meaningful. I know, had my mother read this prior to her death, she would have thought so too. The last verse reminds me so of her. I know, without doubt, that she now sings and dances like she could never do while on this earth. As it says in the second verse, my heart dreams of Spring.

March 2, 2014

**Legacy*

turning cartwheels
in the school ground yard
mounds of fire ants
swarming

jumping rope double dutch
jacks played for one
hop scotch squares
creating

holding silverware in my hand
tarnished beauty still
i feel her love for me
showing

Image Taken From Blog
http://mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

My mother remembered her mother as being more of a friend than a mother. She believes this to be so because my grandmother was an only child and she longed for playmates. I guess having five children is one way to do that. I think of the games I played as a girl and that my grandmother sat and played some of those same games with my mom and aunt and then there is the silverware. I probably will never use it but just to open the box and look at it all and know how much it meant to her causes me to remember how much love she had.