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A Sorrow Hushed . . . . . .
A Sorrow Hushed. . . My ears cleaved to the door frame of the dining room. Her whisper was hoarse, were there many? Lots, he said, lots, as he held the letter that told him what they saw. They pushed for space, women and children and their men for best viewing. They wanted to see. …
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Freedom Is Never Free. . . .
May 13,2024. . . (I remember watching this particular morning show with concern because I take things personally. A dear friend said to me that was a hard way to live. If one does not take life personally, one then is a ‘walk through’. Where then is the meaning in life? And whose meaning would…
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The Present Not Wanted, But Needed. . . .
As I Watched. . . Part of a whole, yet wholly here. Slowly as I watched the silence was encompassing. Piece by blessed piece, each tree, each entity slowly folded upon itself and laid itself down. The screen protecting vanished as it bent itself into nothing, a wisp of an idea no…
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My Keys in the Palm of My Hand . . . . .
In reviewing decades of my life with my kaleidoscopic perspective, is a stressful endeavor. I was cautioned to go slow. ( At 92, how fast can I possibly go at this time?) Most people are given to wait until they are on the side where support friends already are. Or here and I laughed…
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Born With Conscience . . . .
and memory. . . . . . My readers are perceptive and I grasp eagerly what they say. One said there are places I would not be allowed to voice my thoughts or concerns. I have lived almost my entire life being cautioned as I left the house about what I say. I had no…
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Virtue In The Doing. . . .
The Keys Of The Kingdom. . . . (In the conversation I mention about the satisfaction in the doing of what most consider work with my brother Stanley, and he said I hold the keys of the kingdom, in my terminus I see the wisdom of this. I was told to ‘do and you will…
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With These Hands. . . love. . . gratitude. . .
To Use These Hands. . . . from another time. . . As dawn breaks, my fingers of both hands curl about each other and I marvel at their slimness, their ability to elicit the feel of themselves, each digit wrapped around the other. And I think that nothing, no other world will ever…
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Time To Bend At The Knee . . . earth day comes.
It is long past time that we take cognizance of what it is we have done to our Earth planet. She is still here for us to love and care for. She is still here for us to give us breath, polluted it may be in some areas, but where we are, hopefully it is…
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My Eternal Love. . . . .my earth. . .
Love Letter To My Planet Earth . . . . My love affair started when I was eight and laid upon the green grass and willed the clouds into playmates for my thoughts. I wished I told my sky that I wished to be wise. I am not sure I knew what wise meant other…
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How Much Better. . . if we listen. . .
Some readers have difficulty with my saying I scribe yet writers have forever said they write in the flow or with their muses or simply nodding wisely and saying nothing. I say I know when the writing is mine and saying I scribed means I hear in silence and from where it comes is where…