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you awoke in me this morning
furnace curling my skin
blanket of heat…
is it despair
anguish
or grief?
i try on different masks to face you
mop the floor
brush my teeth
the mask of busy-ness works the best
yet your heavy arms
load me like a wet cloth
no time to collapse under your weight
just enough time to get in the dog walk for the day
only time enough to slog on
to my next duty, the obligation awaiting
what is your name, i call out
as i drive to my next errand
no time for tea? you ask…to sit and reminisce
no time, i answer, to inquire why you left, why i’m the one here
which mask can cover this
which cover can protect me from sitting so close
to this campfire’s heat
i look for anyone to be at my side
to have someone next to me at this ritual fire blistering my skin
melting my mask
but then you fade
like a specter, a whisp of smoke
you blend into the scenery
you are here
but hardly seen
calling my name
and threatening my to-do list
as i drag on
to the next thing
in my hollow day
for sue and terry – who met “Rico” on a post “Hurricane Maria” beach in Puerto Rico. His outgoing nature captivated them as did his situation: starving, abandoned on the beach with no food or water and in bad physical shape. Through no small effort they rescued him, flew him to California and began to restore and care for him. The ear infection turned out to be terminal cancer but he got the finest care and was able to befriend every creature he boldly introduced himself to, including me. The “gait” refers to his severe body injury that left him with a walking disability which deterred him not at all.
Rico with the twirly gait
stepped a tender foot to the exact spot, the intersection to you
Rico with twirly gait walked a jagged, hungry line
straight
into your hearts.
who knows what his eyes have seen
in the poverty of riches, hurricane winds and thirsty ocean
how many hearts has this soul gazed upon
rubbed against and touched
only to be left behind in empty sands.
and yet he never gave up his quest for love
to give love
to receive love.
it only took a small army to bring him to a new land
for his eyes to see no small miracle
to welcome him to a house of love
and a place for him to rest and give love, receive love
for that’s what his soul was meant to do.
a soul that never gave up, never ran away and stayed steady in his crooked walk, never complaining, showing us the meaning of gratitude.
blessed being, your work is done here
we see you
we acknowledge you.
and now,
Rico with the twirly gait
has run off to Shangri-la
Photo by Sue Munroe
aparagraha, the poem inspired after losing our place in the 2017 Sonoma fires, has been included in the Sonoma Valley Museum of Art’s installation “From Fire, Love Rises: Stories Shared from the Artist Community.” Sponsor, radio station, KSVY 91.3 will also feature the poets reading their work. The museum show begins September 29th and features 30 artists and poets who created art about their experience of the fires. Show ends January 6th. I will be there on Saturday, September 29th from 6 to 8 p.m. The poem is below.
aparigraha is a sanskrit word expressing non-possessiveness, non-grasping or non-greediness. it is the opposite of the desire for possessions. our beloved cinque terre, our retreat in sonoma, has burned to the ground. this poem was born from that experience.
shiva came through this place
smoke signals foretold
Destroyer
wiper of slates
Destroyer, you hit your mark
smeared your body with our ashes
crumbled our city
of material dreams, security illusions.
that which you have reduced to settled piles
disintegrates my grasp of worldly form
with one fierce sweep you’ve left me clinging
my fist clenching
nothing but material ash
oh shiva, open my eyes sealed by
beholding the “Plan”
my hands wail, they pound futile rage,
but all that is left is suffocating ash, a strangle of fear.
run! shiva has swept through here.
run for your life. run until you collapse in the horror stilled by the dissolution
and stand in it, melting like ice in fire
stand in the loss, in the center of it all, in the calm eye of the hurricane
release my false grip
travel through shiva’s eyes where destruction offers a path, that if taken
shows the soul beyond the pointless grasp, false security
aparagraha
shiva, destroyer
cut the cords to my grasp of that which is not my soul
leave only the cinders of what never belonged to me
force my hand open to lay on my heart
embrace eternal heart beat
let what has been taken
blow away in the winds
leaving me standing with palms open
on shiva’s purified ground.
the time for mourning passes
the horizon sets orange
and the sky turns to ash
sun is setting on the burned behind
the ways before don’t seem to work
on this new puzzle, well timed
waving goodbye to familiar
it is gone
whispering hello to foreign
telling myself, i don’t have to pretend to be strong
let the pattern take shape
find in it, my place
the broken chips, releasing old ties
beg to welcome
the new sunrise…
today was a lifetime in a day
hard edges scraped my sides
reminded me
i’m not alone
pain is with me
like a hot sun, it burned my heart
which bled
and softened it, even when i thought i had nothing left to melt
left me wonderless
limp
like Samuel Beckett
i can’t go on, i will go on
and i do
i did
in one day
anger the street bystander
hopelessness the corner beggar
i can’t give myself to them
i go with the scrapes
embrace the hard edges
i cry out even so
the ache that won’t go away
the terror
that he will become only a memory
how can anyone we love turn into only a memory?
and i am here
today
for no reason i can see
and in the same day, i swim in soft currants of love
miracles, even
and i ask myself, where is your gratitude?
until, all in the same day, i again divide against razor’s edge
and i forget what the question is
i let it slice me
tear me apart
i can’t try anymore
i am your victim, Life
i am your lifetime in a day
through me you feel it all
from sublime grace
to groaning angst
i am apparently your bucket
your receptacle
the body of water open inside
splashing droplets
droplets sparkling in a day
that dare never
ever
to risk their purpose
by asking why
i know the rip
and the tide
the gut of the whale,
it reduces
it drives you down
as if you could disappear in the belly of grief
but you are the force…your reach is the cause
that frees me from
the dark of the whale
your presence that stretches that beast’s mouth open
tosses me out of his black belly
into sunlight and ground.
and now i stand at the shore
in patience
for i have some idea where you are
deep in the belly of that wail
so here i will wait
and i will call in the tones
sing the love notes
to coax that whale to release you
and in divine timing
when the monster is done with you
sunlight will find you again
leading your feet to fertile ground.
there’s any number of things to grieve
so much loss
so much love
so many misunderstandings
and songs that will never be sung again.
death
as a rebirth of some kind
so much crying to deepen the laughter
so many things to tear up about
anniversaries lost without the other, for example
i am here and you are there
and here i am
with any number of things
to grieve
but today, i’ll just pick one.
this suspension bridge offering a crossing…
it allures
it sways
it may cross you over
but makes no promises
suspension bridge
may leave you hanging
suspended over the rush of your life
as you watch it flow below
the river of your life before
out of reach–history now, rushing forward to…
unknown, i can’t see
i’m navigating this bridge
too determined to turn back
dizzy going forward
seeking rhythm with the sway
of this delicate passage
an offering of No Guarantees
just an uneasy tightrope
a place with a view
calling me away
a poem i wrote when i learned of Lise’s cancer so many years ago…about 9 years ago, i believe.
speechless
i always knew
what to say to you
my sister
your problems
so easy to me
you inspired my advise
and big sister wisdom
you let me hold you
let me believe i could fix all your problems
let me toss you the bones of what
had been true for me
your problems
your life so easy
if you just listen to me
you accepted my speeches
my sermons
mantras
and chants
your problems
so easy to me
i knew just what to say
until the day
you went beyond my reach
used the cancer words
after he cut you he said
the margins are bad
they are bad
and today
for once
your problem, my problem
slams me like a machine
today for once
i open my all-advising mouth
and i don’t have any idea
what to say
except i love you.
two girls by Ray Ferrer
See more of Ray Ferrer at http://urbanwallart.wordpress.com/
I will reprint a series of poems for my heart, Lise Martine Gilchrist, who passed Sunday, November 3, 2019, All Saints Day. This is one I wrote many years ago for her. Thank you for sharing in this journey of mourning my sister-friend, a love of my life, of 30 years.
twin hearts
furniture shared
and letters traded
hardly a thing i own
without your mark
i’ve nurtured you
as you threw up bile
and you shed tears
when i bled my heart
your ways become mine
and my heart yours
the line that runs between us unbroken
the knocking doors and answered phones
have always been eager between us
some unbroken lineage
we have to fulfill
we both laugh at the prospect
and toss back another cup of fate
you tell me your stories
and i tell you mine
we blend together in this weave
and it’s too late
to pull us apart
iwritemyself 