Outlined in the stillness of a winter afternoon window
The grey sunlight, a filter of contemplative conversation
The quiet, a prayer shawl wrapped around your broad shoulders
I am drawn to this same space
Of whispered wants and hopeful haunts
I wonder what wish leaves your lips
And almost miss the sigh of your Amen.
Your blacked out form leaves
And I am left listening to the shadow of your footsteps in the hall
Reminding me that in this sacred space
God sees what I cannot.
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows a shot of a green field, in the center of which is a flowerbed shaped like an eye and the flowers planted to give an impression the eye is staring directly forward.
One of the “perks” of working in a church is that I can pop in whenever the mood hits. Our church is usually kept dark with only the light from the candles and windows illuminating the sacred space. Sometimes, when I go in for a visit, I notice that someone is already there. Most times, I would leave to allow them some privacy. Other times, I stay and share the space with them. This past week, I even saw our new pastor praying in the quiet of our church as I passed through.
Sadje’s What do you see #169 meshed beautifully with this poem. The picture reminded me if the “all-seeing eye” or “eye of providence,” in reference to how God sees all. There are several scripture verses that talk about God seeing in ways that humans cannot (1 Samuel 16:7) and God watching over everyone (Proverbs 15:3, Psalm 33:18, 2 Chronicles 16:9). Inevitably, this also reminds me of the Police song, “Every Breath You Take.”
Whether you believe in God, Allah, YHWH, Buddha, Gaia or whoever you call your higher power, being “seen” (and not in the stalker sense) seems to be an innate need that we all have. Isn’t that why we blog and post and tweet and snap and TikTok? What matters more though – who sees us or what they see?
I used to be a lot bolder than I am now. My hand would be first one raised high if there was a need for volunteers. I was the friend who would go up to the person you liked and bring them over to talk to you. If I was interested in you, I would be the first to make eye contact. I was confident and had no issues making that known.
While I don’t think I am any less confident now, I don’t have the same need to be bold – I don’t have the same need to prove myself. My hubby knows I love him even if I’m not looking at him. All my friends are in relationships and don’t need me to make connections for them. I still volunteer a lot, but now, I wait and see if someone else will step up first.
Being bold also seems harder as a parent: having to think of consequences and how that would affect, not only me, but my family. Plus, there is less time to be spontaneous which (to me) is an aspect of boldness.
One place that I can still be bold, is in my writing. If you’re reading this, I’m making eye contact with you! 👀
My WordPress goal this year is to post weekly even if it’s not “perfect”. Yes, I said it – I am aiming low(er) this year! So, you might not read my best work this year, but at least you’ll be reading something from me.
Well – hopefully, you’ll read it!
And give me feedback…and not just the good stuff…suggestions…ideas…what would you do differently?
Inspiration finally returned in these last days of 2022. I’ve taken an unwanted hiatus from all types of writing these past few months, a potent combination of pessimism, anhedonia and general life busy-ness. Functional depression is a thing!
So easing in to 2023…much thanks to Patrick at Pix to Words (#330-338 included in this poem)! I had a streak going and plan on getting that back!
Wishing all my WordPress Family a great start to 2023!!
The wine did not matter. Nor the decadent dinner of lobster and steak. Not even the flowers with their heady scent. And not the sunlight highlighting your cheekbones and good breeding.
You hand me a package and when I open it and look crestfallen. You explain, “It is the moon wrapped in brown paper.” Your face was full of pride and expectation.
“But darling,” I say, ”I had asked for fish and chips wrapped in newspaper, with malt vinegar and salt to sting my lips for you to kiss and tongue turn to tingle.”
“You deserve more than cold fish and soggy chips,” you counter. “How can I compare your beauty to fried food? I am a man of means and I mean to give you the best.”
I shake my head, the silence steeping the air and the realization sinking into my heart.
Image credit: Olga Solodilova @ Unsplash For the visually challenged reader, this image shows a couple dining. The man has a glass of wine in his hand and he is looking at his companion. The woman is staring the other way, holding a few long stem flowers.
Yes, it’s true – I am not a big fan of Valentine’s Day. I am a big fan of chocolates but this day just seems so superficial to me. I am especially not a big fan of kids bringing in valentines to school. At least at my children’s school, they make all the kids bring in a valentine for each kid in the class. Gone are the days of worrying that you wouldn’t get a valentines in your shoebox mailbox. Maybe that is where my aversion to this holiday comes from.
There is just something so artificial about this day. Why are kids – who have no notion of romantic love – even celebrating this day? Why are we forcing them to proclaim love (or even friendship) to kids who may be mean to them? Plus, all that pink and red and white paper and glitter that will just pollute the earth. And the candy and sweets! We still have Halloween candy and now more comes in.
One blessing of this pandemic, for me, was the chance to stop and be more thoughtful about what I was doing and why. I’m now looking at what my family is doing and asking that same question. What are we doing and why are we doing it?
Ubers honk as they make their way through crowded city streets. Buses slowly rumble past. Delivery bikes ring bells of warning. But in this corner of the street, only the divine laughter of a fortuitous meeting can be heard.
It started off as the dance of strangers trying to occupy the same space. It could have become a “West Side Story” type tango, but a smirk of good humor turned the would-be spectacle into a delicious salsa of dialogue. Understanding swayed in the gentle arms of laughter. Commonality cha-cha-chatted with disparity, a note-worthy syncopation that made the conversation a harmony amidst the city’s melody.
The new friends did not wear Pollyanna’s rose-colored spectacles of previous generations. They knew this relationship must be protected, like amber sealing off a cut in a tree. What insects caught in the resin, could be analyzed later, but for now, the enjoyment of this opportune meeting – whether through kismet or serendipity – resounds in the city streets.
Amidst city sounds
The divine dance of friendship
Sways to laughter’s song
Image credit: Jed Villigo @ Unsplash For the visually challenged reader, this image shows three young men standing on a city street and laughing at a shared joke. Two of men are Black and one, holding scooter handles, is white.
A (late) submission for Sadje’s What Do You see #119. This haibun was also inspired by the picture she chose for WDYS #118. I’ve been experiencing writers’ block the past week or so, so while these images brought many ideas to my mind, I wasn’t able to put them all together until now. Patrick’s Pic and Word Challenge #300 – City, #299 – Amber, #298 – Divine and #297 – Spectacle also served as inspiration, tying all my thoughts into this haibun.
The past few weeks have definitely been roller-coaster of happenings, bringing with it the ups and downs of emotions. Physically – it’s been all up – I completed a January Step Challenge with my running group, She RUNS this Town (formerly known as Moms RUN this Town, but changed to the pronoun for inclusivity since not all members are moms). My team won 1st place which was totally awesome! We were consistently getting over 20K steps a day – well, not me, but my teammates did which is amazing! I’ve started the Taji100 (100 miles in February to support veterans) and am currently in 3rd place in my age group for my state.
Emotionally – it’s been mostly down – my good friend suddenly lost her mother to COVID, we’ve also had numerous COVID infections at our church which has made my work there difficult, we’ve had several good friends also come down with COVID and now my daughter is sick with strep throat (thank goodness it’s not COVID!). I am trying to be like that tree with the cut, letting amber flow out to seal it off and trap whatever insects (aka stress) caused the cut to analyze for later.
February is Black History Month in the USA so this photo of two Black men talking to a white man really captured my interest. As you might know. the issue of racism is still very prevalent here in the USA, as evidenced by the killing of Ahmaud Arbery (which I’ve written about here and here), George Floyd, Breonna Taylor and other Black people in 2020. Now, some Americans are in an uproar about Critical Race Theory (even erroneously thinking that Black History Month is part of CRT) which takes away from actually addressing the issues of racism and working towards equity and yes, friendship – or at least, respectful connection – between people of different ethnic backgrounds.
Diversity is a strength. Being empathetic is a strength. Being able to laugh in the midst of trying times is a strength. Can we find strength to be the harmony?
I started writing this poem last week but didn’t get a chance to finish and lost the original “essence’ of what I was going to write. Thank goodness for Merrill’s d’Verse Quadrille #144 prompt – Shiver for getting me back on track! I also have to give props to Björn for his response, “Afterward” and to Kate for her response, “Quiver” to this prompt that set my wheels turning again! Check out “Mr. Linky” for other wonderful shivering submissions! NOTE: I did “cheat” a little with my hyphenated words which I counted as one word to make the 44 word limit. Merrill – will you let that slip buy? I’ll buy you a drink at the d’Verse bar! 😉
So, obviously the “she” in this quadrille is me! This my first Runfession of 2022 but my 17th Runfession blog post since I started doing them in 2019. My last Runfession was actually in January of 2021 – so it has been a year that I’ve been on my running hiatus. Yikes!! Now the huffing and puffing make sense!
You can’t tell from the picture, but it was a pretty cold day when I decided to do a short and quick outdoor interval run. But the sun was out and I had set a goal for myself to restart running/walking/moving of any kind this month.
I have to admit, getting back to running has been hard especially due to my knee injury which hasn’t fully resolved. I’m trying to take it easy and focus on form and (time) endurance rather than speed and mileage. It’s a different way of running, a different idea of myself as a runner but if I want to keep running, this is what I have to do. Slow and steady wins the race, right? Right?…
This photo was taken somewhere in Nevada – we had stopped at a place with underground caverns. The coolness was a relief from the heat outside. I can’t remember the name now, but I remember the feeling.
The muse may be despairing in this quadrille, however, I have to admit, I am feeling quite the opposite. Maybe it’s because it’s a new year…maybe it’s because I am writing again and reconnecting with all of you and reading all the wonderful bloggers that I have missed in the past few months…maybe it’s because I have also started running again….maybe it’s because all these maybes mean potential and potential is hope…and if ever there was a better muse to muse about, it would be Hope.
Image credit: Dimhou @ Pixabay For the visually challenged reader, the image shows a black and white kitten playing with a green flower-bearing shoot growing in between the paving stones.
This adorable photo from Sadje’s What Do You See # 115 inspired this double nonet. I thought the form lent itself to the idea of a meeting between two different entities.
Writing this poem made me think a lot about other encounters I have had in the past years and how they’ve changed. Making small talk with a stranger used to be so easy, but now, this act seems “risky,” fraught with suspicion and caution. Do I strike up a conversation with the unmasked person in line with me? How do I do that if they can’t see my smile behind my mask? How do we signal to each other that we are open, “curious with gentleness” – that we want to get to know them and not to judge them? Tenderness and compassion seem to be in such short supply lately. When will we realize that we all share in a similar struggle?
I Do Run 