I am wrapping myself up
In the ends of the year
Quietly, with slow movements
The kind that shapes
The way we think
Letting go so gently
For all has been spoken
I walk the galleries
The galaxies of memories
Where poet’s words come from
Quietly, my old year, that shrivelled old senior
Falls asleep amidst the fireworks
That riotously run their course
Among the shooting stars
*Burst of celestial fireworks NASA
No matter who you are
Your story will include suffering
The hollow voice on the broken path
The stab to the heart that gives grief words
While most stand clear
Fearful to hear of sorrow’s wrath
Lest your mourning touch their funeral pyre
Of buried hopes, or broken dreams
Igniting flames of unquenched fire
Forget that you have stumbled, vision blinding
Faced dead ends, no need reminding
I just hope to God you get up again.
I love this photo. It embodies one of the great mysteries in life. We can go through the same experience but have opposite reactions. We all view life differently. It’s called perspective. Sometimes we need tears and sometimes smiles. 😍 Which inner child are you? Blessings
In my brother’s garden
Rising from the soil
They do not toil
Their visit short
(Like this poem from your sister)
Photo Les Chisholm. Edit: Val Letkeman
There are moments
When everyone is not enough
And everything breaks our hearts
Those moments crash into us
No warning, we stumble Into the abyss
Perhaps we weren’t watching, just singing silly songs.
Grief pours from us
We stumble around blindly, carefully
Not touching anything
For although everyone reaches out
They cannot replace the one
That we know was everything.
What really keeps me up at night
Is the hum of muses
As fragments of old words and songs
Seep into my soul
Tickle my senses, diffuses.
The heat of the day
Still warming my bones
Gone, as the moon rises
Accepting the worship
Due the fading Friday sun, alone.
I can still hear it.
The gleeful laugh of my children
Through the sheen of my tears
Fluttering away in the twilight, gone
Fading into the great unknown, again.
Photo of my Mom, Grandma Bunchek my four children and their cousins…happy summer vacations in Minnesota.
Measured against eternity
How quickly does time fly?
And where is the end of It?
In the blink of an eye
My measurement has changed
The tape is skewed, my eyes blind
I am lost in the spring sunshine
Waiting for things that are no longer there
As I search for clarity in the light
I speak to the trees, the birds, the river
i speak to myself, and to those I love
Eternity feels like a long, long time.
(This pic was taken in Las Vegas. The exhibit is Yayoi Kusama’s Infinity Mirrored Room) it was a soulful experience.
In the darkest dark
Take root, break apart
Through the night
Dark thoughts cannot remain
But come to light, burst in birth
When they come in contact
With the morning bright
Which waits to greet all
Who try to grow, to test their worth
Just for spite
Because we don’t know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens a certain number of times, and a very small number, really…How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.”
Almost through another week. The snow falls. We struggle to find our smiles as we slide along slippery streets, bundled against the frigid northern breezes. It is dark and restless now. I stare into the dark night sky. No stars, just a cloud blanket shaken by an unseen hand, showering snowflakes. A lone figure stalks along with his dog. I never envy anyone walking a pet in cold weather. It looks like all duty. None of the joy of a summer dawdle.
When we were a family, we trained our dog, AJ to take his own walk…along the path to his spot, around the curve and back again, always returning with that same satisfied grin. 365 days x 6 years. He was always joyous to reach home. A simple bark and the door opened and he bounced right in.
How often I have stood watching the night sky. Sleep is often elusive. I am comforted that I am not alone. I have a simple faith. God is there. Walking with me. 365 days X 65 years and counting. ❤️ I’m not in any hurry to move on yet, but I’m sure about where I want to go. I’ll be happy to reach home.
We all stand
beneath the same sky
for things that are
clouded in mystery
shrouded through history
until that great day
when all will
weep for we
have been set free
from our collective misery
For we all stand
beneath the same sky.