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Archives for domestic violence

it is spring
there are flowers everywhere.
joyous
stretching
kissing the light
shocking colors that only god can make

i memorize them, for darker days.
wild
as they are.

at dusk
they fold inward.
sleeping until dawn.

my soul opens into the night
it is peaceful
the air is thicker,
closer to my skin somehow

coyotes running free
singing to one another
and to me

before and after

it seems that we keep time
in before and after.
not so much in days or years,
but in moments that stop everything.

some moments create deep fissures
in the skin of our souls,
as though splintering the heart,
penetrating even our deepest being.

each soul is marked by scars
by tears not shed
by pain too great
by fires gone out
by before,
and after.

living in color

Will I be grateful for my life when it is over?
or, will I die wanting more?
I hope not.
Time, and time, and more time, to what end?
I am learning to be grateful for temporary things
love, kinship, a smile, eyes that truly see.
I look at the trees,
I doubt they complain about the years they don’t have.
It seems [...]

that damn shoe

You taught me to walk in the other one’s shoes,
rather than feel my own pain.
Maybe that person had a bad day, maybe their feet hurt…
maybe that person is just mean and I shouldn’t try to understand!
I wish I had just told you to walk in my shoes!
I had enough pain, didn’t need someone else’s.
I needed [...]

secret

hiding
like a secret,
behind the floppy green leaves,
this tiny pocket of flowers
brought a sweet smile to my heart today

i had forgotten
perhaps
that secrets should be joyous

there was a time when my life held many secrets.
sorrows i could not contain
searching wildly for courage
to scream
and run
and run
and never stop
until the world was safe again

it took not courage,
but only
the tiniest [...]

the smell of water

there is no sidewalk, so i walk in the street.
the hills are steep for my old knees
but my legs are strong now
i love that i can smell the water
and almost taste the green of the cool space
near the top of the longest hill.
there are always birds here
and small critters i can hear, but not see
the [...]

dying on the vine

growing older changes me
i feel watered down
less self-reliant
colorless

old news

but time moves always forward
old, and bent, and troubled
with bullets and bombs
and terror
and it breaks what it can not bend

sparkle

I am feeling alone
until I notice
that today feels magical
the late spring sunset has cast a golden glow on everything around me

my patchwork quilt

no sooner does my head touch the pillow
than the patchwork quilt of my memories and regrets
pulls itself up around me
and snuggles in for the night.
every remembrance,
whether lovely or sad, has its own patch in the quilt.
the beautiful faces of my children and grandchildren,
my poor little mother, dying before she was even my age,
chasing fireflies on [...]