100 Days of Poetry: Days 76-80

Living

“I am not always very attached to being alive”
So began the article on suicide
The statement resonates
Strongly, I admit
But suicidal?
I have rarely felt suicidal
And never deeply enough to act
Is it necessary to love life every second?
To drink in every day with gusto?
Because sometimes, hope tiptoes out of reach
Sometimes, disappointment overwhelms
Sometimes, the endless list of expectations
(Usually self-imposed)
Wearies me to the bone
Ennui
Sheer boredom
The conviction that nothing
Absolutely nothing
Will change
Some days, I simply cannot abide the certainty of mediocrity
Or worse
The fear of decline
Of invisibility
On the worst of those days, death appeals
The last great adventure
A release

Reason always pulls me back to safety
That, and pride
I desire to stride boldly into the next life
Strong, battle-scarred and triumphant
Head high
And so I live
Not always because I feel attached to being alive

Rest

Tired, suddenly
Wanting nothing more than a quiet corner
A warm blanket
And leisure to close my eyes
Near society, but not part of it
Rest, without the intrusion of guilt over tasks undone
A soothing background of ticking clocks
Soft afternoon light through the window
The hum of a refrigerator
Melodies at the piano
And the rattle of pans as someone else makes dinner

A peace akin to gazing at stars on a summer night
Reading Jane Austen for the twentieth time
(Satisfied, as always, by the perfect ending)
Or savoring those first bites of newly baked bread, dripping with butter
I'm not sure what "rest" truly means in the heavenly sense
But I dearly hope that heaven includes cozy blankets
Quiet background melodies
Endless stars
And warm bread
With perfect endings and promising beginnings
All rolled into one glorious eternity

Ditching the Comfort Zone

Tiny leaps of faith
Sometimes, just quitting the bed
Starting a new day

Dialing a stranger
Collecting stories for blogs
Seeking shrewd questions

Sharing affection
Tentative, will he respond?
Loving anyway

Crafting a poem
Starting blind, ending unknown
Watching thoughts unfold

Steps into the dark
Seeking fulfillment

Ink

Birds in flight
Soaring over the collarbone and off my shoulder
Wings graceful and powerful
I can envision the tattoo
Enjoy the anticipation of rebellion
Already feel the reminder of freedom just beneath the fabric of my blouse
My little escape when obligations weigh me down
And trees obscure the horizon
A reminder that I can rise above the branches
And fly toward the sun

Palm Sunday

Dusty festival crowds
Noisily cheered a king
Only to condemn Him as loudly within days
Disciples walked away
"Friend," the King said to Judas
"Wherefore art thou come?"
That terrible kiss killed both men
Peter followed, though
Denied knowing Him, yes
But still, he stayed
Women, too, followed the slow path to Calvary
Simon shared the burden of the cross when Jesus stumbled
Mary stood at His feet
A sword piercing her own soul
As it pierced the side of her dead son
The Magdalene wept outside an empty tomb
Pleaded with the gardener
"If thou have borne him hence..."
"Mary"
Gentle
Loving
That voice
Impossible
But the heart knew
"Rabboni"
Master
And the sun rose on Easter morning

100 Days of Poetry: Days 71-75

Spring Break Staycation

Sheer joy, a rarity for a teenage girl
Praying for the happiness to last
Rain just steady enough to soothe, with periods of
Intermittent sunshine
Nutrition optional, treats in abundance
Granddaughter in charge
Bonding over games
Refreshing release from routine
Endless smiles
A new hairstyle every day
Kristina soaks up vacation, basks in family

Counting Blessings

Laughter with friends over amaretto bread pudding, 80s memories and catnip
Belly laughter from a two-year old
Prophets here and now
A happy teenage daughter
Children who love family
The elegance of a black quartz countertop
Plaid pajamas
Hair that curled just right for once
Feeling a little younger than my years
But loving the perspective those years give me
Hope that relationships can mend
Joy of shared faith
Peace at home
Cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven, not too sickly sweet
The anticipation of sleep

Papa

The best part about being a grandma
(In addition to hugs
And baby belly laughs
And hiking with a child always primed for delight)
Has to be watching my husband transform into "Papa"
As they play bubbles
And cars
And catch
As she draws on his fingers
Brings him piles of books
Looks up at him with complete trust

This is a role he was born to play
And through her eyes
I fall in love all over again

Avery's Limerick

Spent the day with my spunky granddaughter
She needed some fun so I brought her
To the museum we went
Three blissful hours we spent
She kept marching back to the water

Beginning the Work

Driving home alone
Grateful for solitude
Audiobook dulls conscious thought
Mind processing in the background
Sadness, relief, worry, hope?
Awaiting clarity and willing to let it come in time
Feelings swirling for years begin, perhaps, to find shape
But sculptures take time to emerge
Finding their own form within the stone
I have to step back
Resist the urge to carve and mold
Do I weep?
I almost feel like weeping
Mourning the loss of something undefined
Some pattern I have built my life around
A pattern I will miss only because it leaves a hole to fill
Anticipating
Welcoming
Fearing
Vulnerability

100 Days of Poetry: Days 66-70

Worshipping

I watch the congregation today
From my vantage point behind a vase of roses

A man just released from prison sits with his wife and children
Crisp white shirt and tie
Peace radiating from their faces

Peace, too, on the face of the woman stroking her husband's hand
As he leans into her
And they watch their children perform "I'm Trying to be Like Jesus"
She mouths the words
Most of the parents do
But the children don't need the prompting
And more than one congregant wipes a tear
Children in hair bows and Sunday ties, singing loudly, have that effect

Back in his pew, a four-year old curls into his father's arms
And this is the scene that captures me today
Father and son gaze eye to eye
Sharing a private conversation
While the service swirls around them
And then son melts onto dad's shoulder
Trusting completely in a love that wraps around him as surely as dad's arms

Across the aisle, a middle-aged woman sits with her elderly mother
Both impeccably dressed
Hair and makeup perfect
A bright and determined smile crosses the daughter's face when I catch her eye
No hint of the dementia-fueled struggle that likely prefaced the chapel calm

All of the smiles today contrast with stories at home
Marriages strained at the seams
Crippling anxiety
Fear
Devastations of age
But the peace in the chapel today is real and palpable
An oasis of spirit

Monday Mornings

Trail winding up
Hints of sunshine, ridge beckons
Legs burn, breath comes hard

Views from the clearcut
Cell tower, distant mountains
New growth amid stumps

Cougar tracks? Perhaps
Logging trucks, spent shotgun shells
We are not alone

Running and chatting
Politics, marriage, scripture
We cover it all

Wonderful muddy buddies
Monday morning therapy

Visiting the Grands

Piles of books
Two hearts in sync
Wolf howls on demand
Peals of laughter
Doting aunt working toward "favorite" status
Hugs unlimited
Stairs to climb and descend (backwards, of course)
Vintage Fisher-Price
Extra bowls of mac and cheese
Falling asleep in "Papa's" arms
Bedtime kisses
Dreams of tomorrow's adventures

Fruits of Procrastination 

Late to bed again
Completing one final task
To sleep or to write?

4/4/2019

Toddler gag reflex activated
Vomit-covered car seat
Open-window drive home
Sunshine saves the day

Field trip to Baxters'
Four fluffy cats
Avery falls in love
(With cats, not horse)

Playground with the girls
Fresh cedar bark, ah!
Teenagers play like toddlers
Huge smiles all around

Games finish the day
We build our dominions
Meara wins, beginners' luck
Mom loses while laughing

Not what we planned
The day we needed

100 Days of Poetry: Days 61-65

South Dakota Childhood

(more a sketch of memories than a poem)

Rosebushes soaking in the bathtub
Sledding trails worn in the mounds of snow dotting the playground
Lilac bushes bent into an arch under the weight of yesterday's blizzard
Miles upon miles of sunflowers
Barn cats wrestling in the hay
Two wooden seats side by side in the outhouse
Icicles popping on the wood stove in the mudroom
Disco lights flickering on the roller rink on a Friday night
Muddy stockyards on the edge of town
Walking the alley home for lunch
Teeter-totters all recess long
Sunday school in the attic
Cold locker room showers and colder swimming pool
Looking up and up and up at the high dive
Watching the Sioux Falls girls kill it in gymnastics
Watching the water tower sway above me
Tumbleweeds scuttling along a dusty road
Swimming in the cow pond, catfish nipping my heels
Flat prairie in my rearview mirror
Southern adventures await

South Dakota Memories

(haiku sonnet)

Barn cats in the hay
Wooden seats in the outhouse
Cow pond swimming hole

Miles of sunflowers
Tumbleweeds dance in the wind
Stockyard aroma

Mother's rose garden
Lilac bush heavy with snow
Apple tree mornings

Frigid swimming pool
Sunday afternoon baseball
Water tower dreams

Prairie in our rearview mirror
Southern adventures await

Basketball Haiku

March Madness bracket
Fell apart in Sweet Sixteen
Drat that Texas Tech!

Insomnia

Wide awake, night sweats
2 AM, reset my dreams
Desperate for sleep

Early Spring

Sunshine opens my windows, turns my gray winter mood
Upside down
Nudging buds into flower on the rhododendron bushes to the side of the house
Sending songbirds into rhapsodies of melody
Heavenly artwork reflects on the surface of the lake
I catch my breath at the miracle of spring
Newly awakening
Expectant

100 Days of Poetry: Days 56-60

Benefits of Aging

Image matters less
I am old; I must be wise
Experience informs

Friendship

(a haiku sonnet)

Talking while running
Philosophy in short bursts
Weekly therapy

Perched in my kitchen
Making bread, sipping hot tea
Solving life's problems

Backpack adventures
Yoga on rocky summits
Making memories

Mothers' Day road trips
Escaping for the weekend
Art, nature, food...ah!

Faces of friendship
Women of my heart

Nostalgia

Sitting on the stair, singing "Leaving on a Jet Plane"
Then "Springtime in the Rockies," little boys drifting asleep
Steam and moonbeams surrounding Firehole River hot pots
Fragrant Alaskan tundra under a midnight sun
Dancing to reggae in Lamoille Valley
Watching the tide roll in
Early morning, deserted beach
Ziplining in snow
Prairie thunderstorm
Mountaintops

Happiness

Here and now, learning to be present in the moment
Actively opening my heart, without need for reciprocation
Playing games, watching games...together
Poetry every day
Inconsequential moments adding up to joy
Needed a day off. Wish granted.
Endless possibilities once again visible
Serving on a whim
Sunshine, beautiful sunshine!

Rebellion

I fantasize about
Biting into a Boston cream donut
Getting a tattoo of eagles across my collarbone
Reading all day long in my pajamas
Throwing china plates at the wall
(Not because I'm angry, but because it just looks so infinitely satisfying)
Dancing up the aisle during a quiet church service
Telling unfortunate women with thick thighs that they truly should not ever wear mini skirts
Eating peanuts, gluten, sugar and dairy with abandon
Refusing to cook dinner for a week
Buying full-priced clothes for myself
And posting something rabidly political on social media

But instead of such daring rebellion,
I brush and floss my teeth every day
Count my calories
Set the novels aside so I can meet my deadlines
Leave the china in the china cabinet and throw reading glasses instead
Sit reverently in church (um, usually)
Keep (some of) my opinions to myself
Cook endless dinners
And buy my clothes at Goodwill

Someday, I will rebel for a day
Or two
Maybe even get the tattoo
And the world will fail to notice

100 Days of Poetry: Days 51-55

First Spring Day

(tanka)

Afternoon rambling
Finally, t-shirt weather
Winter snow vanished
Breathing musky scent of spring
Alone, but smiling broadly

Swords and Souls

I will forever shudder
At the memory of my son
Mid seizure on the floor
His brother standing over my shoulder
Eyes wide with horror
Certain he has killed him
As I pray frantically
Willing the eyes to focus
The blue skin to turn pink
The shaking to stop
Pleading for my son to live

This same son
Fell out of a tree and onto a rock
Tumbled down flights of stairs
Twice
Suffered concussions
Twice

Motherhood is not for the faint of heart
With night visions of tragedy
Endless what ifs
And painful realities
A sword shall pierce through thine own soul also, he said
A prophecy for all mothers, it seems

And yet
The bear hugs
The sheer joy of moments on a mountaintop
The silliness of shared memories
The wonder of lives unfolding
Worth every gut-wrenching tear
Every late night wakeful hour
Every doubt that leaves a hole in the soul

Parents and Sports

Watching
My daughter play
Team volleyball, tension
Mounting with each serve and volley
Please win!

Symptoms

So
often dizzy
Two years of sluggish runs
Am I a hypochondriac?
Fix me!

Middle-Aged Woman Dilemma

Awful muffin top
Tight clothes, no willpower
Help me love hunger

Warm Day in Early Spring

(An attempt at a Curtal Sonnet)

Crisp, frosty morning, fresh air afternoon
Finally blinking my eyes in the sunshine
Unaccustomed to light, dripping sweat

Birdsong meets camp chatter, warm weather tune
Grateful for the shade of sheltering pine
Dreams of bike rides and swimming holes, and yet...

Frost again tomorrow, rain coming soon
Keep jackets near, it takes time to refine
a new season, until then a duet

Winter and summer play in counterpoint
Intersecting in spring, graceful vignette

100 Days of Poetry: Days 46-50

Monday Trail Run

(a nonet poem)

Sunshine called me to the ridge today
Mud-caked feet, steep path ascending
New trail, adventure ahead
Lungs burning, heart soaring
Slow, but I don't care
Friends at my side
Deep inhale
Strong legs
Joy

Writer's Block

(a shadorma poem)

poem time
procrastination
thoughts escape
words fail me
creativity run dry
I write anyway

Catalogue of Worries

Always efficient,
My brain recycles worries
No need to reinvent the wheel when depression strikes
Just run through the tried and true list:
First, always, my thin, lifeless hair
Next, the lumpy extra pounds
A shudder for that time, decades ago, when I fell asleep in a client meeting and drooled, literally drooled, onto my shoulder
And a cringe in memory of my concerts (did I really think I could sing? Who was I kidding?)
A groan for the boy in college I never should have dated and whose name I can no longer recall,
A click of disgust for each time I opened my big mouth and said the wrong thing
A sigh for legs that no longer run the way I want them to
Should I go on?
A roll of the eyes
A tear
A weight descending
And then the fog lifts
Quite suddenly
Unexpectedly
Blissfully
Until next time

Pas de Deux

No fairytale marriage in my childhood home
Mother tensed at a hug
Unable or unwilling to relax into an embrace
Daddy was earnest, too earnest sometimes,
And explosive

A meeting of minds, to be sure
Two intellectuals parsing literature and music
Two friends sharing a love of nature
Little visible romance
No fairytale

Forty years in, Mother realized,
To her considerable surprise,
The strength of their marriage
The unmistakable bond

For me, the understanding arrives later, in a quiet moment
Watching a wheelchair dance

Daddy stands, braced against the sofa
Arms outstretched
Hands beckoning

Uncertain, her eyes riveted on her husband
Mother leans forward in her wheelchair
Clutches the outstretched hands
Allows him to pull her forward

For an instant, they support each other
Hands clasped
Then they turn, eyes still locked
And she sighs into the sofa
He tucks the blanket around her
Settles into a chair to read a favorite story

No royal pas de deux has ever meant so much
As two octogenarians
Bent and unsteady
Sharing a dance for the ages

Elegy to the Mother of Boys

Ah, the stench of sweaty football cleats
The din of teammates lining up to devour a pot of chili!
Just last year, teeth chattering, I filmed yet another rainy lacrosse game
I cleaned up bottles and crumbs
Forgotten athletic cups
Pizza boxes left in my car
And turf beads littering the bathroom floor
I stayed awake hours past my bedtime
Waiting to hear tires on the driveway
Forced myself awake to hear my usually monosyllabic boy chat

I have mothered boys for nearly three decades
Navigating the unfamiliar territory of testosterone
The awkwardness of man limbs on a child experimenting with new strength
The mystery of men's fashion
The endless wrestling
The ER visits

And then
One late summer day
My last boy waved a carefully confident good-bye
No more cleats left on the porch to air
No tackles to bring me to my feet with a cheer
No "Charlie in the box" pubescent voices
No youthful arms lifting me off my feet in a bear hug
Missionary, husband, father, grad student, professional
I am a mother of boys no longer
I am a mother of men

Halfway

(A cascade poem)

Halfway through my life I pause
Laughter and tears play a tug of war
The future both beckons and taunts

I dashed madly through my twenties
Raised children for three decades
Halfway through my life I pause

Toddler antics, family songs, random quotes
Aging parents, marriage in transition
Laughter and tears play a tug of war

Can we remember selectively?
Live without fear?
The future both beckons and taunts