SMALL COMFORT

In the case of young women who have cracked glass ceilings,  I wish to remind them that generations of women have prepared partners for them who wish to parent their children.  That there were women free of commitments or those who shrugged those commitments  to do what they felt was theirs over the years  was a miracle of sorts.  There were others who had to care for their commitments and could only dance in place.   It is a larger picture than one generation and several lifetimes in the making.  The lone voice of Betty Friedan started the  uproar to the top floors and it was the shoulders of the generations of women our young women today have used as a staircase to the upper floors.

SMALL COMFORT

In waves, the moans
of the conscience stricken reached the heavens.
In waves, across the lands,
reaching tidal proportions,
the laments were cradled in the clouds;
due in time to wash across the hearts of the unborn.

The cries of why? why? and why?
were epidemic as they swept the Great Mind
and lodged in its bosom.
The gods, bewildered, wondered why (themselves)
the questioning continued when in ages past
man learned so well.

But now the ‘why?’ from woman’s lips
demanded an answer
to soothe her breast grown bloody with irritation;
a cancer eating her insides,
moving earth as well as heaven to answer.

‘I said’ no longer was sufficient for the rising tide
of an ego too long suppressed
and not to know its day.
No longer sufficient to walk in shadow,
when knowledge, full blown was hers.

The ‘I said’ no longer held terror
from either God or Man.
‘I said’ no longer could be used
to keep suppressed the horror in the cry
falling on man’s ears.

The children vanished from the hearth
and woman rose, unafraid.
No more the reason of hunger or cold
from winter’s snow to cover the babies’ heads,
as she found her head immune to pain
inflicted by mindless gods, both earth’s and heaven’s.

Too late she knew, but all in due time.
For progress, such as it was, had reason to bed.
The heel must first strike the ground
before the foot implants.

She did not know the muscle she had
to carry life’s burdens,
nor the control it required to balance it all.
Unknowingly, the ballet performance

was exquisite.

Sept. 1987

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The Need For Connections

It is a fact of life that when things are offered and we do not accept them, then when we want them, we find they are withdrawn.   It is a matter of inner vision, not having to do with sight.   We cannot see our need at the time.   But upon thinking and when we see their value, we find it is too late.

We then of course are sorry.   Whether the thing is offered by a person or because we are in a fortunate situation at the time, we do not

Nature's Wonder

Nature’s Wonder

accept because we have no need.   But to check one’s vision, to see a need before it arises means that one makes connections.   Timing is of the essence.   One must see how the connections between past occurrences and present happenings are related.  The moment becomes all to most people because to live in the moment is the current thought.  But without the substance of the past, the present has no meaning.  It is of itself, sterile.  To bring this home to us, we must think of who we have been to bring us to who we are in this moment.

And if we do not instill meaning in the present today, tomorrow will be bereft.   it will have no meaning and of itself, sterile.   We must avail ourselves when opportunities for change are given.  Too many think that today is born immaculate without the impact of yesterday.   If we do not see how our yesterdays have laid their mark on us, then we will not see how our actions today will affect our tomorrows and those of our commitment.

And we will not see how our harsh winter will yield to a benevolent spring.

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Kiss The Moon Winner

I am pleased to announce that the winner of the drawing of Kiss The Moon is Luanne Thulstrup who is from the Northwest.   I wish to thank all those who entered and viewed my work.   And I wish to thank Maria Wulf for her generous offer to speak of the drawing on Full Moon Fiber Art.com.    She touches many people in ways we can only scarcely see.

And to all of you who found my work to be interesting and with a bit of surprise I do hope that you will continue to be visitors and to bookmark me.  I will be running drawings now and again for my books and a possible wall quilt at times.  Comments I especially look for because it is a way for me to judge what group responds to what I have written.

I especially want to encourage the broadening of our premises.   In a world with so many challenges,   we need broader foundations upon which to build our spiritual need of brotherhood.   It may be on our shoulders that this responsibility falls.   There is no doubt that we are equal to it.   Again,  I thank all of you,  and special thanks to Maria.

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Poetry Book Drawing

Kiss The Moon Book Cover

Cover

This week there will be a drawing for the book of poetry called Kiss The Moon.   The number picked will be at random and I will announce the winner on Friday.   So when you comment on whatever post you like or have thoughts about,   I will be notified and I will put names in a container and the name will be drawn.

This is the first time I have done this and Maria at fullmoonfiberarts.com has been my encouragement.  I know there are many of you who like my poetry and perhaps you will be the one to be drawn this week.   The names through Thursday night will be eligible.

I am looking forward to the response from my readers.   I have enjoyed your e mails but you must go to https://fromanupperfloor.com to register your name and comments.   You will have four (4) days to do this.   The second printing cover of my book has slightly different printing, otherwise the art work is the same.   And most of the poetry on my blog is in the book.  Good luck to you.

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My Cosmic Valentine

index

Every year  I wait for my Cosmic Valentine.   It comes after a summer of getting the harvest ready for another year until spring planting.   The summers for me were too long and the winters too short.   When winter came it gave the necessary time for me to feed my need for knowledge.   It was a time when all things came to a halt that were necessary to survive.   It was a time when my Spirit could be fed with days that were long and evenings even longer.   It was a time when snow came and covered all the infirmities of the Spirit with a damask linen of white on white.   It was then that the world smelled clean and crisp was the air as it slid down dry throats and rusty pipes.   This year of all years my Valentine was the most beautiful.   Heaven bent down and laid a kiss on my forehead and said,  for you I did this.   For you.   I wish the world would know this magnificent salve for the open wound we know as Mankind.

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A Good Friend (from Kiss The Moon)

Kiss The Moon Book Cover

Cover

 

 

You stayed the night
while I lumbered my body
through a partition
closing me from life.

While I fought
through a sea of memories
holding me hostage
to long and lonely years.

You saw me
through eyes of tears
reflecting the hardness
mine needed to smelt

with coals being fired
in a heart of no use.

But you stayed, close to my skin
and had you pulled away
I would have understood.
You stalk me yet and I stand.

My eyes have shed their steel casings,
now ground as dust beneath my heel.
I look inward to softer places
and find the world not so hard.

You tell me you need to stay close
because you wish to claim
my strength if only by association.
but I ask,

of what heavenly use is a soft shell crab?

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My Love Of Barns

002-1 final editWhen I was a young girl we moved to The Farm.   It was the most beautiful place my eyes had yet seen.   The red barn sat on a hill opposite the white house also sitting on an incline.   And outside any window were horizons as far as my eyes could see.   But the red barn became a focal point of all life lived on The Farm.   It was the beginning of the family’s day and the ending of it.   It was the home of cows and calves and for some years,  horses.   The animals lived on the main floor and their food was thrown down from the upper floor.   The smell of the place was warm always to the girl that I was.   And the upper floor,  with some boards always missing,  was home to the cats who kept the place free of those who would feast on grains and grow fat.   Barns became a favorite haunt of mine.    I looked for them when I was traveling somewhere well into my years.   By the condition of the barn one could gather what the financial state of the farm was.   How well the families were doing or how poorly.   It was the last place to get paint because of the priorities of everything else.   Hay and grain first for the animals,  health care and fences for them and upkeep of everything else which the Inspectors would mark off if your monies depended on outside buyers of your production.   Not an easy life but a vastly rewarding one.   My most influential years of my life;  they critically laid the groundwork for all my years to follow.  I am forever grateful.  My love of barns and farms has continued to this day.
This wall hanging is now for sale for $200.00.   The dimensions are 18″ wide by 27″ long.   Paypal is accepted.

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Sacred Permit

Sacred Permit

Sacred Permit

I am posting this wall quilt with the hope that it will be purchased for someone who is expecting a child.  It has always been mine to know that we come with a sacred permit that says we are chosen as our parents are also chosen.   I know this is not a commonly held concept,  especially because there are too many who hunger not only for food but for love as well.   But it does not prevent me from thinking that one day we will realize this is a world where new concepts can be chosen and new learning will take place.

The quilt is $120.00 with shipping included.  I know there is someone special for whom this quilt will have meaning.   Contact me with any questions you may have.   It was made with love and care from a grateful heart.

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The Whole World Is Looking For A Mother

In the `90’s,  when my world was struggling to find its place after the death of our middle son a few years earlier, the bigger world outside of me seemed only to reflect what I was working on.   And in the midst of my struggles, I wrote The Whole World Is Looking For A Mother.  I am certain there are others who feel like I did that day when I wrote this poem.  Tell me what you think.

Pray to me, Almighty God,
and send a mother to mother
this barren earth,
these orphaned children striving to stand
with no one to lean on.
Pray to me.

For I tire.  I tire.
Senseless equations keep pestering me,
seeking sums I cannot decipher,
for too many zeroes I neither
can articulate nor posture.
Debits and assets, we have the former
in trillions but the assets hide
from Thee and Me.   I do not see them.
Do Ye?

Except hidden in the child’s eyes,
in the smile, in the groping of hands,
trying to find each other.
Except in the autumn I now sit in,
rain saturated, leaves clinging to roads
and sidewalks as slippery as comfrey.
Except in the foaming earth
giving off an elixir to intoxicate me
into still thinking I can make a difference.

Pray to me,  Great God
that I may be ignited
with a fire yet to burn brightly,
that I may see my commitments
straight through to their resurrection
and mine.
That I may yet see a glorious dawning
of a day where the acts of my days
will prove again the reflected glory
of God in Earth.
I pray, still, send a mother,
fresh from the Cosmic Bosom to lean on,

not tired.

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Eyes That See

I see a difference in the eyes of people whose vision is long and far away. These are people whose eyes do not stop at the curb but travel distances to a horizon higher than buildings and junks of every order and even lifting beyond the trees and the mountains.

The difference in these eyes is that they do not stop seeing where I begin.  They see beyond my body house and deep into my heart.   I find these souls now and again, but not often.   They do not linger about.   They are not in the malls nor connected to computers all day, nor are they working fingers on text gadgets.   They mostly are found in open fields, or working and communicating with animals or plaguing peoples with questions and puzzles to keep people’s minds from atrophying.   They are the pied pipers of children who follow them about like puppies.

Children often are the first to find these souls.   We must watch our children and to whom they gravitate upon entering a room.   We should follow them.   Others might consider these souls simple because obviously they are neither fashionable nor particularly charismatic.   To engage them in conversation opens worlds alien to us in daylight but familiar in the dark  night.  But children know them instantly and quickly recognize them from a place they both come from.   They know and recognize each other.

I am partial to these souls whose sight . . . inner sight. . . takes them beyond what most consider the here and now, the present.   In a heartbeat I would have their thought and company when I walk my fields.

What do they see?  Perhaps the ability to step behind our eyes to view the world from our perspective is what separates them from us.   Have you not wondered how these souls are able to pick up our thoughts or conversations coming into a room with no introduction?  And their ability to sort out our feelings without prior knowledge of our concerns?   These are special persons.   Special souls who wander among us.

We should grab them by the collar and say with force, halt!  I need you here.  Right now and right here.   They, with innate knowledge would be of immense value because by remembering from where they come and by lifting their eyes to the heavens

they tell us they come with memory.

 

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