I will never not be
the child of an alcoholic
I will never not be
aware of just when scales have been
tipped
of lost conversations
of less
graciousness
of less
caring
memories blurred
or missed
of much less connection
and of course,
caring
I will never not be saddened
by just what it is
that takes precedency
over
all
other
conversations not had
that cannot be
had
I will never not be
watching
and
wondering
if you … are
ok
or are you even noticing
how you feel
possibly I know longer know how
to talk to you
about
all
of it
I will never not be open-hearted, broken-
hearted, somewhat
fragile-
hearted
stitched together in golden patches
of
grace
this week, I watched a documentary called
The Atomic People, the story of Hiroshima and Nagasaki
the story of the atomic bombs dropped
on Japan, that ended the second world war
told,
in first person accounts of those
who somehow
survived
of course you might know, it was absolutely
devastating
I sobbed, struggling with the how’s and the
why’s
and the WHAT ARE WE DOING
(deep breath…)
I have carried it with me all week, this heavy, heavy
heart of mine
it feels in my chest…
like a sopping sponge of
sorrow
that I am cradling, until I know just how
to gently
set it down, as not to accidentally
spill
the contents
like it might too, be gold
in reading, I finished a biography of an actress I adore
from the Golden Age of Hollywood, Norma Shearer
which I loved
but I was saddened too, by the high price
of vanity
even or especially I guess, when it has
become one’s career
to be
looked at
even this many years later,
what ends we might go to
in attempting to hide
the gift
of
aging
and in this day and age
after all attempts are made
just what or who
it is
we see
when we look
in
the
mirror
mightn’t this be, a kind of constant
grief
in the garden, I think I am beginning to love August
it has been terribly hot, and most terribly
dry
but everything has gone into a sort of
survival kind of
ease
as summer days begin to walk a little more
slow
the ponds of course, are endless joy
where one is required to look
closely
yet
carefully
at what wonders might be resting
unnoticed
until
now
the lovely little frog, I am happy to say
has so far
stayed with us
each day I spy him there
smiling
while sunning himself
on a rock
this morning while I read
I look up in time to see a hummingbird at the feeder
I had not heard him arrive, over the hum
of the air conditioner
yet somehow, I was made aware
of this lovely being
in time, and assured
not
to miss it
I am reading Annie Dillard
words echoing similar thoughts in my head
of nature, and witness and
knowing
my eyes fill with tears
as possibly I recognize these wondrous things
as
my own inherent gifts
and isn’t this, something I can be proud of…
or
more
perhaps something here
in words
has gently squeezed that sopping sponge
of my heart
allowing tears
to begin
to trickle
out
much of the world hurts so much these days
we really must be called
to
loving kindness ♥
“.. The answer must be, I think, that beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will
or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.” ~ Annie Dillard