It is time, love, to break off that somber rose,
Shut up the stars and bury the ash in the earth;
And, in the rising of the light, wake with those who awoke
Or go on in the dream, reaching the other shore of the sea which
Has no other shore
Pablo Neruda, Absence and Presence
My question: is it better to wake with those who awoke?
Or to go one in the dream reaching a shore of unknown value.
I wouldn’t want to awake again! After the rose has been cast away,
The stars closed to me…..
I’m torn though.
I was SO not a teacher.
At least in that venue–
Kindergarten through Fourth Graders,
really so many behavior issues,
reading a book aloud in the library
was strangely counterproductive–
as the, for example, First Grade class would
talk right through my hand-picked
I know God’s not done with me yet.
I know I love sharing literature and
the love of reading and learning–
my former Elementary school was not my
I love learning. I feel a malaise about
taking more classes at this point–
having already attained two Master’s:
one in Teaching
one in Library Science
But who knows what
turn life may take for me.
A combination thereof?
Or… bookshop staff?
volunteer at a Public Library?
My curiosity is
TO: The Teachers
confute me, confuse
visual or textual learner? inquire
what I am
Is it because of what
“You” (teachers plural) taught?
I’ll never forget my
Old English language professor
who put me back together
one lost and horrible morning.
I came back to the university, but the hospital was the only
place to go at that moment.
Hm. All I remember
about Old English is
the root word “vert”.
Appropriate, as my professor
“turned” my path
for the better.
So. I am what I am
in large part because of
my teachers. And I will be forever
grateful to their commitment.
The tide carries in with it both treasure and trash.
Shells to “hear” the sea, beaches to play and embrace the sun on– and simultaneously,
Debris like tons of plastic; and oil spills galore–from collective society.
Why does it seem that the flotsam that hurts the earth
Is outweighing the beauties that exist simultaneously?
The water knows.
I never will. I just plug along enjoying our beautiful backyard.
Taking walks on nature trails.
The pull of the ocean, the strength of the nearby Mississippi river’s current, even the
Torrent of the streams that line the nature trails I take— all of these
Forms of water remind me that treasure still remains in this largely water-
I believe that; I need to, to not become deluged by the tide of trash.
these scribblings seem more
important than the stanzas
I group into a cadence of
words I shuffle out
these scribblings capture the gist
not the full impact of Life:
addresses jotted quickly
meeting times written sloppily
are these lines on this scrap
of a page capturing a truth,
a beauty, that the poet cannot?
the slight touches that push us
from one moment to the next
cold bracing wind
rips largely into my chest
I find fortitude in clean crisp pain
Pummeling me into more
miles I need to clock
as sun similarly sears into my skin
I face the potential of cancer daily
much scarier than any
cold I encounter
but there are the miles I
need to clock
snow wind sun sweat
I challenge myself to walk.
had a date with my husband.
had a great time, while dodging raindrops.
have three books to read now, after going to the local BAM bookshop before the movie.
hope they’re great.
have a crush on Channing Tatum after that movie.
“Can I have this dance?”
Let’s Get Lost, by Alsaid
Twisted, by L.H. Anderson
Finding Audrey, by Kinsella
“Can I enter another world and disappear from this one for awhile?”
Movies make magic. Books make other worlds.
And my husband? The companion who joined me in this bout around the town?
He makes my life turn.