Exploring the poetry of everyday life
More easily said than done these days
Time to reset and center myself
Face facts that changes warping the world
Seem to be settling in for a long haul
Poetry is not dead Heaven forbid
This lifeblood of humans flows deep in our veins
Hidden beneath horrors spewed out in the news
Goodness and glory in shapes still unseen
Kindness and God’s grace yet will prevail
The ocean was quietly rolling
Wonderful day at the beach
Memory of past times beguiling
I walked straight into the surf
Confidant I could still do it
I waded still further out
Wave one and wave two I maneuvered
Wave three was a total rout
I landed flat backwards and splashing
Legs waving high in the air
My son saw me flailing, gave me a hand
Eventually I was upright
I cannot describe my sadness
To face up to this simple loss
I’ve played in the water since childhood
Now I am like a beached whale.
Belle died at noon on Saturday
She left in peace with family around
Her ninety-seven years a testament
To life well lived and loved.
A friend to us who knew her well
She left a vacancy not soon filled
This morning the swimming pool is blue
Sun and fair skies foretell a lovely day.
Belle loved the pool in Summer
And sunning on the patio in Autumn
When falling leaves transformed the color scheme
Before Winter sent Belle back inside.
We played our Scrabble-like word game Royalty
By the pool or in the Party Room upstairs
Belle was the queen who beat us all
At forming words some of her own creation
She seemed to pull letters out of nowhere
To fashion words sometimes bizarre.
Belle is gone and yet I see her everywhere
Dressed in her Thriftique classy clothes
Speaking out to bring justice to the world
Celebrating Seder with generations of her family
Including us as her adopted relatives
Teaching us the ropes to vote absentee
Belle has been freed from suffering.
It was a grief to see her bowed so low
My heart rises remembering the wonder
Of the very special person that Belle was
Now living on in vibrant memories.
I did not know loss could produce such gain.
Today the prompts don’t work and nothing comes to mind.
No ideas new – or old – appear to keep me company.
For once I threw the towel in and moved on with my day.
With shopping cart and list in hand I sought to jar the muse
With a pedestrian task. At least I’ll now have bread.
As I walked past the empty lot beside my home
A sudden kinship with it sprang to mind and heart.
This week two years ago was when I said goodbye
To what I’d built, life I lived, dream that was still-born.
Of course, I thought. Old-buried grief has come to call today.
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