elegy: a poem of serious reflection, typically a lament for the dead
Remember how she smoked too many cigarettes, flicking them one after another into the cold street? Standing there for hours under the streetlights, breath and smoke locked together like the blue and silver holiday wreath she found at the Thrift-a-Lot and carried through two husbands, one apartment, and a house. She once got top marks in typing but then failed out of business school because she took up with a beautifully broken man who kept her up too late and drove her to class each morning, swerving through patches of black ice, motorcycle tires spitting snow onto her stolen white jacket. I've always wondered why she never had warmer jackets. I've always wondered why she stayed so long. She couldn't leave because Wednesday was ladies night. She knew all the jukebox numbers by heart and made a habit of going home with the wrong man. Remember how she never cried but could take a punch and give it right back, how she spoke in circles and shouted until the sun came up? She once said her life was an afterschool special with tired country music blaring in the background and she wasn't smiling. Remember how we put her to rest in that record breaking blizzard? How nothing seemed real anymore and the snow was soft feathers against the windshield? The road led west and it turned out that she could have rescued herself all along. May she rest in peace.
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What if the earth were poetry
and all the curses were lies? If rejoicing in sweetness was learned from the start, would we have more of an inclination for heaping grace upon others and ourselves like wildflowers fresh from bloom? Let’s build something together, you and I. Carefully water the seeds, patiently wait for the roots to grow deep, and hold me tight on those days when I am my worst self. Speak of grace when I have forgotten. I will do the same. Is there anyone who could remain unaffected? Or would everyone react as I do - dropping their parcels and purses to sink deeply into this generous offering, arms and legs swimming as if the sea were only one stroke away? I will not walk through this day. I will float through a field of sunflowers soaking up the silence. I will move as if I am a welcomed and grateful guest. I will silver the earth with softness. |
Who am I?I’m a systems engineer and creative coach living in ABQ, NM. I believe that we can intentionally design our lives to align with our deepest dreams and desires. Archives
January 2023
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