Tag Archives: transition



We’re here!
Fresh, clean kids are asleep
in their fresh, clean sheets…
And even though I’m crazy tired,
I’m kind of wired,
walking around in wonder
that this has finally happened.
Our own place.
Our own memories.
A new chapter,
untainted by the one
who almost broke me.
I lit a candle,
made a cup of tea
and am settling down cozily
to read and muse
and feel so much gratitude.
We moved! We moved! We moved!
And I am moved
by the moving, by the help received,
by the sheer quantity of stuff,
being forced to look at all of it,
make decisions—stay or go?
Intentionally setting up nooks of creativity,
creating a sewing studio in the basement—
this has been a DREAM…
And now, it’s coming true,
because I choose, I choose,
to live the dream,
to move and be moved
by this wonderful life
to trust, to love,
to jump, to open
to fly…

NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 5:


Yerp…I wasn’t sure about today’s prompt, because it is so different from anything I’ve ever done or tried to do, but you know what?  Nothing amazing was ever accomplished from within the comfort bubble, so here goes…

The poem below was written by a Croatian poet, Marijana Radmilović. The photograph came from a search for black and white photos.  I don’t know whom to credit.  If it’s yours, let me know and I’ll credit you.  Thank you.

Screen Shot 2018-04-05 at 10.46.24 PM.png

Žlica kojom smo jeli
naše svakodnevno, a ti joj kradom
otapao dno.
Otkud sada tako pristala.
Neki je čovjek maloprije bio ovdje,
njegovao moje rečenice:
Na ovom mjestu moraš stati
i pokušati sve.
S kakvom ti radošću otvaram vrata.
Prvi put činim za tebe
sigurnu razdaljinu od zdravlja
do bolesti.
Žlica koja se bila zametnula,
liječeno jutro, sve njeno prešućeno.
Smrt ima bijelo, nečisto lice
i dobra nam je, sve ove godine.
Against the grey sky
it measures time, its slow growth
never seen.
Windy days cry loudly.
Near enough to see but covered in mist
negating its presence, reminiscing:
You move, making all stillness
I wonder at the absurd way
we grow into seasons
and fall as all things must
A magical time of brilliant simplicity,
slow motion, still nothing helps.
When the time comes, and one of us falls,
the other will be the one standing.

Sleeping With My Mother


For the first time in months
I’ll be sharing my bed with another…
this time with my mother,
who is visiting for the holidays.
She came a little early
to help with the kids
while I take time out
for a week long retreat,
God bless her.
It seems odd to share my bed
with my mother,
but since my husband
is no longer my husband
he occupies the space downstairs
with his brand new bed…
when will he share his bed
with another?
It has been five months
since we slept beside one another.
I miss the closeness, the warmth;
sometimes I even miss his snoring.
Does he miss me ever?
Strange, the questions that arise
as I contemplate
sleeping with my mother.