Archive for hope

Old Favorites Revisited: Episode One: Mowing After Dark

Posted in Prose with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 25, 2010 by 1writegirl

I wear a silver chain around my neck bearing a Chinese character; the year of my birth. I don’t take it off to shower, or sleep, or jog or even when I mow the grass, which is after dark. Long after everyone else has put their lawn care products away and retired to the sanctuary of porches, living rooms, and television screens.

I mow quietly, my push reel mower making only a low, humming sound, and as I mow, I talk out loud to someone who isn’t here. I ask him questions and tell him just exactly what I’m thinking as I feel my way across the yard, around the edges and trees. “Love is a tightrope,” I tell him. I can see him in my mind balanced precariously, and I know if I love him too much, he will fall off, just like he will if I don’t love him enough. This is a test, and I wonder if there is a way to cram for it. I wonder, too, if it’s the kind of test you can re-take if you fail, and who decides these things.

By the time the moon is high in the sky I am finished, sweating in spite of the cool night air, sitting on the front step with my fingers wrapped around the necklace: caress, release, caress, release, like a dance or part of a rosary bead benediction. It strikes me that life is like mowing after dark, feeling your way as you go, with the likelihood you’ll run over something sharp increasing the longer you’re out there.

It represents something, this necklace, which is why I never take it off. Not a promise, or a dream, not even a wish for what might have been. Some might call it a memory. Others folly. Patience is a virtue, while stubbornness a sin. Is there a difference? I call it hope and it lives in a place between two hearts, where the grass only grows after dark.

Resurrection

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 17, 2010 by 1writegirl

One distraction follows
Another
In pursuit of
Purpose to daily

Life

When there’s rarely a place
You have to be
Nor legal tender
To be had

Yet who knows
What stumble might lead
To what
What you might find
In the face of
Life
Re-defined
By the unexpected

The way you can
Move through
Wrongs grown wider
While Reason escapes and
Reasons escape

As a heart
Wakes up one day
To something new
And old at once
And wants it anyway
To realize that
What you dreamed
Is dreaming now
Beside you

And the how or why
No longer matters

Hope is resurrected

Presence

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on December 25, 2009 by 1writegirl

Don’t give me presents
On Christmas day
Give me your presence instead
Wherein my heart flies
To meet my soul
Beyond words into
Truth
Felt only

Uncontained
By wrappings and ribbons
Undefined by greeting cards

My piece of peace
My joue my jew
My joy
My magi
Magically real

This day and
Any day

Time

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on November 9, 2009 by 1writegirl

Where does
Redemption lie
If not
Within the heart

In the realm of
Second chances
Dawn to dusk then

Last chances

Faith in faith renewed

We’re given only
So much time
So many possibilities

Before what came before
Becomes that which
Overrides all hope
Of touching anything

More

Transcendence has
Its limits
Equal to the
Human heart

Finite in dimension
Despite immense intent

Restricted
By the darkness
Captured
Within the scope
Shot down
By the power

Of ticking
Treacherous

Time

Shedding

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 7, 2009 by 1writegirl

Walking
For hours
Shedding
Along the way

Old memories
Old pains
Old lies

Like diamonds
Once valued
Now
Meaningless

In the context
Of today

Left behind
On the ground

Faded sentiment
Useless trappings

Withered leaves
To scatter
In the wind

Leaving room
For
Truth

Leaving room
For
Redemption

The opening
The changing

Of a soul

The Alter of Illusion

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 17, 2009 by 1writegirl

How else can you find joy in a joyless place
Except by realizing you are not there?

— From A Course in Miracles, received by Helen Schucman

Paths cross
In shadow
And light

In love
And hate

As we stumble
Blindly
Toward the edges

Never knowing what lies
Ahead

Always fearful
Always scarred
Always asking

Why

There is little
If any
Happiness
To be found
Here on earth

Whether alone
Or with someone
By your side

You will still suffer
You will still doubt
You will still want to die

On your bad days

Each of us takes his
Own journey
Even in the arms of
Another
The dance is the joining of
Sorrow and hope

At the alter of illusion

Fainting Memories

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 26, 2009 by 1writegirl

El Toro Memorial Park
Bears no resemblance whatsoever
To a bull

Even in aeriel view

It isn’t a park
Though it has lots of grass
You can’t
Jog
Picnic
Walk your dog
Or even throw a Frisbee

Nor does it provide any memories
Merely remains
Which you can visit from
Time to time
If you choose

Bring your own memories

I went there to say goodbye
To my friend
Though I’d said it already
Since August first
Again and yet again

This time in the presence
Of others
In a court with
God presiding

I whispered and laid a rose
Into the vault of her ashes
Blinking hard to keep the tears
Behind my Jackie-O shades

Wobbling on my heels
Sure I would topple over
Faint from summer heat
Empty stomach, aching heart
And the ritual rhetoric
Entrenched in these affairs

And if I did, I told myself
I’d just lay there
Beside my friend
Flat on my back
No need to get up
No reason to rush away

Let everyone else
Trickle off
And leave us together
Alone

One final
Moment between us

But I didn’t faint
Nor say goodbye
It seemed a
Superfluous gesture

For she’s been to see me
More than once
Since she quietly slipped away
And I know she’ll visit again

Roaming the skies of my slumber

Feeding fainting memories
Of a life too soon withdrawn

To tell me
One more story
To ask me for a joke

To give me her leftover hope
Of no use to her
Anymore

To say
Now chin, chin,
Then grin

Letting me know
It’s okay

Close Enough To Hold On

Posted in Prose with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on September 19, 2009 by 1writegirl

He is drowning

I wade in as far as I can
As far as he will let me
Stay back, he yells
I do as he says

Pulling branches from the shore
Extending them in his direction
Grab on, I call
But his arms barely move

I watch his head go under
I am frozen with fear
Then he resurfaces
Eyes wild
Choking on black water

Just leave, he says
Get away while you can
Don’t try and save me

Don’t be a fool

But something rises inside me
I dare not give it a name
And this time I don’t listen
To what he tells me to do

Instead I reach into my soul

And look around for something to throw
For something that floats
For anything

Then I begin to toss them
In his direction
One by one

The flotsam and jetsam
Of a disappointed life
Tattered and battered
But alive still with hope

It’s all I’ve got
Hoping they might land

Close enough to touch him
Close enough to move him
Close enough he can reach them

Close enough to hold on

Passage

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 24, 2009 by 1writegirl

Psyche swoops
Low to the ground
Cloaked in anonymity
In the pitch black of night

Quiet, barely breathing
Hanging
In the balance

Nothing to give
Nothing to take

Passing through dark alleys
And stench-ridden stairwells
Littered with days-old detritus
And the glow of eyes

Half alive

Half tethered to
Another world

Where laughter, mad and demonic
Is the only kind you hear

Searching for hope
Escape from chains
And finding nothing
But past-due depravity

The most insidious kind

And rock bottom sadness
Lurking below
Borne of the notion
Pervasive potential

That every step means
Nothing more
Than passage into the

Abyss

Tracking

Posted in Prose with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 13, 2009 by 1writegirl

The night is still
Forceful in its silence
Withholding of anything

Generous
Anything soft

With promise

Shadows poke like branches
Into wanton flesh
Needing to be touched

But by degree
And only by one

Speed is of the essence
The chase begins within
There are no mileposts
No guiding stars

No shortcuts not laden with traps

And the only sound you hear
Are faint and
faltering footsteps

Tracking

In the dark