Day 17

January 17, 2022

4 inches of snow, 3 hours of rain

and now we will freeze

Ahhh New England.

Ok, so I did manage to get out and have a burger for the first time in a while.  Ate it at GCC and looked for birds after the storm.  But the rain came back and it started to be heavy enough to keep me from finding creatures.  So I went home and wrote most of the afternoon.

Mid January, happy MLK Jr. Day.  This is the first one in 30 or so years that I haven't participated in some celebration.  I think I'll ask EJ permission to put their MLK speech up on my blog later.  It's worthy of the day.

I am being lured into my Grandmother Whiton's world for some reason.  I'm going to do some research tonight.

I also have to copy another interview for transcription.   Really interesting how I don't think 5 years ago how much Mother of Loss bridges class at the very core.

Week 1 Prompt 1                    : from Odilon Redon's "Composition Flowers"

An Evergreen Life

 

I’ve never been here.

All that I believe to be true,

seems not to be. 

Where the land draws into bold

colored fog it beckons me to rise.

 

go forward, that’s practically

what Greeley said, he said

“Go West” and my

Mother chanted it like a mantra

she never listened to

she never went home.

 

Nor did I.

 

The mauve fog is denser

south of here,

where I came from originally.

It’s denser, harder to see through

more difficult to impale.

She got stuck, immersed in an evergreen life.

So have I

colored slightly different

but still imbued with complexity

the complexity of a grief and a beauty.

The complexity of a life

not alone no matter how hard

we struggled, fought people off.

 

Flung my arms aimlessly

to keep them away

complexity of wanting

two opposing things at once.

Pushing while just as determined

pulling closer.

 

Brought me here to a new

world where dense mauve fog

allows me to float

above the sycamore trees.

Where the color is sustained;

no dark grays to help you lose your way.

 

I won’t go West, Mr. Greely.

I won’t change my ways.

I’ll stay nourished

in fog that lets me float

stay grounded in my day.

No obtuse complexity

of grief, of love or joy

to keep me in confusion

to pass my time away