Ready for life now.
Like the spring,
jumping up now,
trees that were pink
two days ago
are now green.
Everything is changing,
and I am part of that change.
my petals will scatter,
my leaves will be green too,
stirred in the breeze
giving music to all the trees.
Now just breathe,
You are spring too.
song of life
from every angle
there is suddenly
so much spring
I think I might
lose my head.
It never occurred to me
that this process could be at all gentle,
but now that it is slowly dawning on me,
gentleness is what I want.
I want to transform gradually,
wake up to the light
the way flowers awaken in spring—
when the ground softens and warms
and there is no other choice
but to blossom.
In this world where everything has died
I notice the silence above all.
Sometimes a car passes by
reminding me that life goes on for others,
But in here, in this house,
everything has died.
I buy myself some flowers
and for a few days
their sweet scent reminds me of living…
but as all living things must,
the flowers wilt and decay
and now I am responsible for
disposing of their remains.
If only the remains of my marriage
could be thrown out like the spent flowers.
Its faded scent lingers,
and so do all the fallen petals
of the hope I kept alive for so long.
My children are with him tonight.
He took our two cats as well;
it’s eerily silent here.
Silent like death.
Now here I am,
listening to this absence of sound
inside a home once raucous
with the symphony of existence.
A car passes by now,
reminding me of the life that goes on out there.
The man who was my valentine
for the last eight years
is with someone else tonight
and so I bought myself flowers.
I am my own lover.
I am my own protector.
I am my own champion.
I am my own valentine.
I love the woman I am.
I love her fiercely.
I was caught in a story today,
a story about not being prepared enough,
organized enough, motivated enough,
not a good enough planner,
not thoughtful enough.
It was a story about being selfish,
wrapped up in my own interests…
not good enough.
And then the plant spirits called me outside.
The sun shone on me,
the breeze blew through me,
and I thrust my hands into the earth
again and again.
When I looked up,
there were beautiful plants
in all our pots and containers
and an hour had passed.
The anxiety was gone,
and so was the self-effacing self-talk.
Thank you Nature for saving me again.
All around me the cherry tree rains down its soft white petals
and springtime in full swing dances a harmony of every color.
In the winter time, I close my eyes and dream of white and yellow
crocuses, the first signs of spring and everywhere, sweet flowers.
Now, spring in full bloom, movement, buzzing from buds abounding
I hear the call to blossom myself and listen for a deeper tone resounding.
Something about the sun shining and fat bees hovering on the breeze
as I eat my lunch, everywhere it’s alive, singing in the blinding sun.
No more words. No rhymes. No measure or meter or time.
Just spring and sun and breeze and life and sweet sweet flowers.
At first I wanted to follow the NaPoWriMo prompt for the day. Then I saw that I would need to put a lot more time into choosing a phrase or a group of sounds that bore repeating. Perhaps a ghazal will come tumbling out another time…