At sunrise over water, Remembering a dream Of finding ecstasy Within tears, Things neither given Nor felt in years, Linked by all the fears To form decades of a life Lived like a stranger In my own skin.
I have stood Since the dawn At this ocean’s edge Waiting, waiting. And now at noon The rain begins. Fierce pelting blows Washing me clean Of all I know Or dare to dream.
If only these colored leaves Of red and gold and orange Could be caught, Snatched gently By careful hands To be savored, arranged Somehow preserved, Rather than fall, lifeless Torn from their limbs By careless winds, Shoved to the ground With murderous violence To be trampled and ground to dust Or raked and bagged for trash Or better yet, If only these colored leaves Of gold and red and orange– Could stay filled with life And be always green.
The wind and rain stopped by last night,
Had a few minor temper tantrums outside
As I stood watching from the door.
They slapped the trees limbs around a bit
And kicked at bits of loose trash in the street.
Nothing more violent than that.
No pushing down trees.
No pummeling hail.
Rather calm for a storm.
Yet it killed the heat of summer,
Murdering it without a hint of passion
And ushering in a cold windy day
To begin the fall to winter.
I stand here,
With this cup of coffee,
Mourning a summer
That passed without passion.
This red heart cedar stump, With its dark crevasses And holes where bugs had homes, Was sanded smooth. A urethane finish added for shine And protection. The rings are visible still, Rings that count the years Until the tree fell in a storm, Twisted from the earth By tornadic winds.
Thus, I found it In the yard. Took the chain saw to the tree, Cut it into chunks, Along with the others that fell That day while the dog and I Sought shelter from the storm.
Now I sand and chisel away. Routing out some hearts concave, Bowls to be used for filling At some future date, Now standing empty. Sanding some hearts level, Tables to be used for holding things, Yet these are empty too.
All this red heart cedar, Once stood filled with life, Now stands empty.
This is a blog about my life. It's about much more than living with cancer. It's about reading books, cold water swimming, mothering, eating. All that stuff that people who don't have cancer do. If you're looking for my poems you need to go to fmmewritespoems.wordpress.com