Originally posted 9/29/2017
I'm not much for
conscious prayer
but I do some
silent thinking
that could be
construed as such
I guess.
Some days sling
challenges
that make me duck
for cover
as I stumble
grasping, angry
and frightened
Searching for
the right thing
to do again.
Always the awkward
dance.
Knocked to my knees
Sometimes screaming.
from Jean
I'd rather take the
quiet lane than highway speed.
To explore, detour.
+++++
Life's travels vary.
They take you far and away
yet can bring you back.
First published May 18, 2025
a minute
or a day
of life with you
might be just
what's needed
to nourish
a hungry soul.
First published Sunday, March 01, 2009
Witholding words and, thus, myself.
No trust enough to tell all to anyone.
No one anywhere who can coddle and absorb and still
remain the same, loving, after knowing all that is.
Indeed, myself as most do, parse words carefully, even
in our own hearts.
Some words are painted glossy to look better than they are.
Some are weighted so as to never surface, certainly not
in daylight for others, and often not either known in our
own nights.
Sometimes tripping over the shadows (there are always
shadows since nothing true disappears completely), the
bolt of pain in the stubbed toe flashing a memory of self
back to surface. A moment only long enough to frantically
push it back into the basement and slam the door closed again.
Looking behind self, fearful that someone might have noticed,
might have recognized an unadmitted truth.
Then walked away. Ashamed for knowing.
But, no. No one else.
I keep myself alone enough to pick and choose, pick and choose
carefully, what words will be dressed for dinner.
Offered on a gilt-edge platter. Will be only my best at any table shared.
Why do we fluster so about how to know others while we fail
to know ourselves?
Words not spoken may reveal more truth than those brandished
in the open.
Not at all what you would think.
If you saw.
If you knew.
There should be
a poem
here
.
First published by Jean Monday, May 09, 2011
you are not old
who still sees
beauty:
in a smile
older than yours
or a tree that casts
no shade or
a home with peeling paint
or a lone flower in a weedy bed,
in a threadbare quilt of patches,
a day whose only music
is a birdsong or
someone humming
in the kitchen.
Jean is a regular contributor; here's a couple more works she submitted.
from: 8-30-2024
haiku… me…
I think I'm smarter
than the world has found out yet.
Won't they be surprised.
from: 5-1-2008
haiku… Choices…
I couldn't decide.
I waited too long for you
to make up my mind.
First published July 21, 2008
stay with me
as I need you most
more than any other
in the present ever.
allow what is in me
to be
awake and seeing
all I am and have.
First published June 29, 2008
and there I see,
in you, and therefore
bring to me,
much love and
hope and reasons
why
this life, today, is
worth more time
and not yet ready, in
spite of grief, to stop
and say good-bye.
First published October 5, 2008
Elizabeth's sister
isn't the same anymore.
Her husband went to war.
He came back whole
but aching inside.
He sits in shadow
and cries.
"There's no one left." says he.
"I'm still here." says she.
"I can hear their pain."
"Your son wants to play."
"This isn't what he should see."
"We want you at home. Please,
don't leave us alone."
"I'll be back when I can."
The door closed.
Elizabeth's sister
isn't the same anymore.
She sits in shadow.
And cries.