Mom, I Miss Our Calls
Mom
our relationship
complicated at times
but mostly just love
Over the years
you got better at saying it
Mom
our relationship
complicated at times
but mostly just love
Over the years
you got better at saying it
The fog has descended
deep darkness
overrides my soul
the spark is missing
the daydreams
no longer hold any light
NaNoWriMo
the opportunity
to write a novel
with the energy of many
I begin
it's to be a memoir
my first
Here's to the dead *
Honoring those
who have gone before
To my mother
who taught me commitment
and dedication
Those days
when grief wanders in
like the tendrils of fog
in the river valley
slowly engulfing
my heart and mind
Agreements with the self
too many made
not enough kept
leaves one distrustful
backed into a corner
Photo by Jason Williard (1983-2016); used with permission
What if you stopped
all the whirling and dervishing
What if you quit
the worrying and the caretaking
What if you just sat still
allowed in the silence
Photo by Rick Medlen on Unsplash
that moment
when the sun peeks
over the horizon
meeting the night air
colors move
in an unending
symphony
painting the world
with changing light
awakening the daylight
Photo by Hanson Lu on Unsplash
What if none of it is real. What if the world is a holographic projection of the collection of our minds. We are pretty attached to these bodies and our stuff. But what if none of it is real.
What if we are mighty and playful and can be, do and have anything we want. What if global warming isn't real. Not as in, "they" are making it up. But as in we created it by our beliefs.