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Archive for November, 2022

Good Morning, Mirror

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , on November 28, 2022| 3 Comments »

“Ageing is just another word for living.”

Cindy Joseph

Good morning, mirror. I can count on you to be truthful. This day may be young, but my face shouts geriatric. Reflections don’t need to speak to shout reality. You can be powerful. I watch and let what I see connect with my brain and heart so soon after Thanksgiving. Life is a precious gift. I think about gains and losses. People. Things. 

One glance outside shows me trees with rough bark. When birds and animals visit a growing oak or maple, they don’t change the tree’s mind about what the species is, or why it doesn’t have leaves this time of year.  I wonder, was my last storm worth fighting? Or would it have been better to wait it out? Wisdom discerns when to act and when to remain silent. Whatever I do, may I choose to do it, to be it, to act with as full a vision as possible. May I lose this notion that I need to be perfect to be okay.

Good morning, mirror. Good morning, fresh-day me. One more opportunity to make a difference. 

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Invisible, a Poem

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , on November 20, 2022| 1 Comment » 

Families are the deepest, most screwed up relationships that we have. Antony Starr




THE DOLL HOUSE

Her pink shirt stained
with chocolate birthday cake,
the little girl moves miniature figures
through her new doll house.
The adults talk.
Their voices rise and fall with
grunts and whines. 

That child’s daddy needs a new attitude.

Ray should knock off the bourbon
before his liver turns into a sponge
like the one in Nita’s filthy sink.

What’s the point of a 25-cent coupon 
on four cans of tuna?

High-priced gas in a rusty Chevy is
like pouring diamonds
into a broken goddamn gumball ring.

The little girl pauses,
interrupted by dull laughter, a cynic’s applause,
as she prepares her doll family for a special trip
under the stairway,
where purple sand and white sea waits, 
with a sky where the only clouds permitted 
are made of ice cream and marshmallows,
and no one over the age of six may enter.

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Parallel Places

Posted in poetry, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on November 13, 2022| 1 Comment » 

“The truth is I'm getting old, I said. We already are old, she said with a sigh. What happens is that you don't feel it on the inside, but from the outside everybody can see it.” 
― Gabriel García Márquez





Parallel Places
                                                                         
Two men lie parallel
in geri-chairs.
Mesmerized, one
watches the other sleep,
acts as his protector.
When the sleeping man gasps
and coughs, the first
jolts upright. On unsteady feet
he stands, ready 
to save his comrade.

Two aides rush
to settle the first man.
One of them leans forward
and shouts into his ear. 
You fell this morning. Remember?

I did? 
He appears perplexed, then
does as he is told.
On his side, with his
eyes open wide, he watches,
breath timed
with his wheelchair-bound friend,
even though his sleeping comrade
floats unaware in distant dreams.

The sleeping man’s visitors,
a man and a woman,
notice the gentle guard.
They smile and assure
the old gentleman
he can stay where he is.
He nods.
He may hear.
Or not. He continues his
quiet watch.

The sleeping man's visitors talk about
their grandchildren,
vacations, ordinary tasks.
until the summer heat 
breaks into a storm.

The woman rises
to kiss the sleeping
man on his forehead.
His eyes flutter, 
but he doesn't rouse.

She pauses. The space between
real and unreal appears, 
a shore cracking and dividing.
She fears touching a place
that doesn’t promise an exit.

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One Carbon Monoxide Detector with Superpowers

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , on November 6, 2022| Leave a Comment »

“The older I get, the more I believe in what I can’t explain or understand, even more than the things that are explainable and understandable.”
― Lillian Gish

Our carbon monoxide detector squeals at 9PM. My husband and I discover no apparent problem. However, the detector isn’t programmed to cry without reason. We need the help of our utility company. Now.

Within an hour five red caution tags cover worn valves. We don’t have gas to cook, can’t take a warm shower, and rely on the outside mid-fifties temperature for heat. An inconvenience. I realize how much I have taken for granted. Gas has a unique perfume for a good reason.

The next day my son and a trusted friend from our church community tell us there was something bizarre about this situation. Our simple carbon monoxide detector is not designed to detect natural gas leaks. How did it take on an administrative role when it had entry-level training?

The details don’t matter. The unexplained miracle does.

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