The Light Always Returns

Propelled here by the screaming inside my heart,

carpet of broken seashells underfoot,

I walk back to the public refuse can

near the crossover,

silently offering condolences

to my long serving 7 year old

beach umbrella,

just violently murdered

by the wind.

Mother Ocean’s arms are raging today

yet I needed to submit,

to feel her have her way with me,

to remind me to fight past.

Past the despair, the exhaustion.

Past the anger and the keening sadness

of these ever turbulent days.

A wedding is occurring

100 yards away.

The bride’s white

billows like a balloon

and I hope she is laughing.

I imagine the symphony of it

floating down to where I sit.

Inhaling deeply,

I will the salt cure

and it

inside my cells.

I am blessed, privileged,

safe and healthy

and yet

this cloud of charcoal

still blankets me

and the light

some days.

There are others

bearing mammoth burdens.

May we all be kind.

Let us help each other remember

that the light always returns.

Peace and Love

All That We Love Deeply Becomes A Part Of Us

A timely reminder to focus on those pinpoints of light.

This Pedestrian Life

“I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge — myth is more potent than history — dreams are more powerful than facts — hope always triumphs over experience — laughter is the cure for grief — love is stronger than death.”  – Robert Fulghum

Sitting with my 3-year-old granddaughter this morning, I marveled again at her ability to create story lines and characters in her make-believe play.  She’s so incredibly adept at it, that I hardly keep up as she changes who my character is supposed to be, and what they’re supposed to do!  “No Mimi, you’re not Walter the mechanic anymore, you’re Maggie!”  Worlds are conceived, and roles are established.  If we’re building sand castles, seaweed might emerge as a feared monster, and shells can be transformed into people in danger.  The rules change with the rushing tide.  

All man(or woman) made creations ever in existence, whether artistic, architectural, mechanical, or simply aesthetically pleasing, were…

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It Is and It Isn’t

Today’s Facebook memory from 2 years ago. While it’s not about the current protests or the pandemic, it is about LOVE and that is what will end both. It’s love for our fellow human beings that will drive us to work hard on ourselves and within our systems to bring about change and dedicate ourselves to being and finding the cure. ✌🏼 ❤️

This Pedestrian Life

I recently bought a stylish pair of pants at an H&M in Italy. They’re pin-striped with the words “Love is the key of survival”. We know we mustn’t let hate win. Indeed we must start showing more love to our Mother Earth and all of our brothers and sisters if survival of all species and our planet is our goal. Yet the timing of writing this, on the jagged edges of recent reports of two prominent, successful, much-loved and seemingly publicly happy souls committing suicide, clearly illustrates that “love” is not always “all” we need. People can be loved by others and tortured by their own minds. People can be sources of light, joy, inspiration and pleasure for others while battling an unseen charcoal darkness, the soot of which coats the very membrane of each of their moments. What then is it? The thing that we’re not getting or seeing?…

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Early Morn Melbourne Beach

 

There are perhaps ten of us here

socially distanced, mostly fishers,

men and women, a few readers and

one small child making friends with

the sand.

PVC pole holders drilled down deep,

long monofilament lines lilting

in the morning’s gusty wind,

iridescent sunlight dancing upon waves

as they break their way in and

marry their way out again.

The lot of us can be seen gazing outward

toward the horizon, sending our hopes to

the unseen curvature, to the future of

this strange life we’re living now.

A herring gull swoops decisively into

the water to claim his breakfast and

a group of royal terns peck at

the bubbling tideline for theirs.

A few more hungry ones arrive.

Some silent and winged

some clothed and exclaiming their joy

at simply being out here,

starved as they are,

like me, for that which

feeds our souls.

 

CRR

 

In Praise of You

National Poetry Month Day 30 – Praise Prompt

Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on Pexels.com

Hey there tired soul.

I see you

putting one foot in front of the other

and trudging on.

I see you

leaning against the closed door and

catching your ragged breath.

 

I see you willing the charcoal

lump in your throat to dissolve.

 

I see you mustering the strength to

reenter that space with

a smile and do what

needs to be done.

 

I see you struggling to recognize

the difference you’re making

and I’m here to remind you

that you are.

 

You are as essential as the oxygen

needed to fill our lungs,

the water that hydrates our cells.

 

Your very existence matters

even when it seems to not.

 

Be still and feel the sun

shining on you today,

the birds singing for you,

the fragrant trees and flowers

blooming for you

even amidst the din and darkness.

 

Tuck those into the pocket

of your heart and

be reminded that the world

could never be the same without you

and you are

loved.

 

Peace and Love

 

Change

National Poetry Month Day 26 – Change prompt

I opened up my Facebook memories this morning and found the following poem about April.

Struck immediately by how the current month of April is a stark contrast to the seemingly light and breezy one I alluded to 3 years ago, I decided to write about that. Some say change is the only true constant and my, how things have changed.

 

April is still the shroud of winter being cast off,

but it is also the sight of N-95 masks being cast on 

in a month that now lasts a thousand days.

 

Now we argue with the moths who deem December “darkness”

as in hindsight, it has never looked lighter,

and we dream of a future month

when death statistics and hypervigilance 

don’t dominate our days.

 

And this April, the jubilant daffodils peeking out

may just be the thing that saves our sanity

as we attempt to navigate the overwhelming fullness

of these thousand conversely empty feeling days.

 

This historic year we’ve taken to hanging our love and cheer

in windows, balconies, and airwaves

praying that unlike sheets on a clothesline

they flutter far and wide 

and overpower the odors of idiocy and despair

clouding our April skies.

 

Yet, thankfully the children still shine

their wild joy on us all 

and songbirds still wake the sun

and through Tik-Tok and Zoom and YouTube

we still connect

and promise each other

that one fine day

we’ll again be dancing in the streets.

 

Peace and Love

 

Quirky Much?

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

National Poetry Month Day 22- Quirk prompt

Of course, the first thing I had to do was look up the word “quirk” because even though I consider myself an intelligent, well-educated woman, that’s the first thing I always do, because- well- I have to be absolutely sure that I use the word correctly.

“Quirk- a peculiar behavioral habit”

When I asked the hubs if he thought I had any quirks he was still laughing even as I pushed him out of my office and closed the door on him. Whatever.

According to an online test I just took, I’m 72% quirky or loveably odd!

 

But just because I always stop exactly halfway down my driveway to put my seatbelt on and always drive once around the block to make sure I closed the garage door, I don’t think anyone should rush to judgment.

I want to find another test. I need to be certain, and I have this thing about blindly trusting what others tell me. Online tests, authority figures, politicians, religious zealots, basically anyone, been there done that one too many times. I am always going to verify things, look them up on at least five different credible sites, dissect it word by word, and then overthink it. So I tried another quirkiness quiz which declared that I’m

“very quirky”.

I mean maybe I do often laugh uncontrollably at something I find incredibly funny (usually about myself). When I was younger, my best friend Sherry loved to get me going because she knew I couldn’t stop. But still…

So I took another test and not only am I “totally quirky” but thank the goddesses, I’m not “totally basic”. How awful would that be?!!! Like totally! But I might have made a mistake on one or two of the questions, as they were sort of tricky and I felt in between some of the choices. Given a second chance I might have gone the opposite way on a few, probably would, no, most certainly might.

 

But was the 3rd time the charm?  I mean it definitely was in marriage, but who says it’s the same for online tests? I need another to be sure.

Normal enough to hide it. That sounds about right. Or does it? One more to be sure.

OK, that’s a little harsh and I would beg to differ, as hubs says I have an extremely irritating habit of doing, but I really don’t ever see myself dying my hair red like that. I might consider an oceany blue. What do you think, “Quirky” or not ?

 

 

Today’s poem turned out to be a bit more than originally intended. Here it is boiled down to a 5-7-5 Haiku:

Day 39 of

social distancing and I’m

getting quirkier.

 

 

Peace and Love

The People Who Learned

National Poetry Month Day 10

The __________ Who __________ Prompt

The People Who Learned

Once upon a time not long ago,

on the 3rd planet from the sun,

a group of beings called humans

had almost had their run.

 

Lives were lived at bullet-train speed,

havoc and hopelessness floated in the air,

eyes rarely met, ears rarely listened,

there was little time to show they care.

 

Then along came a virulent invader

storming towns and cities worldwide.

The people retreated for cover,

took their loved ones and started to hide.

 

In hiding, they each discovered

all the good things that they had forgot.

Small things, big things, in between things

and they realized it was a lot!

 

Like what really mattered and why

and how each of them truly had worth.

How important just washing your hands was

and to a new way of being gave birth.

 

The people started seeing a difference

even before the war saw its end.

The people envisioned a new garden,

everyone’s challenge it was to tend.

 

And one day the black clouds finally parted,

the people could now freely move,

they could play and hug and visit,

their hearts and minds now were soothed.

 

With clean hands and full hearts they started

to build a new way to live,

to plant seeds of civility, peace, and love,

everyone had something to give.

 

Those humans, they learned a few lessons,

the hard way, to be sure,

but the greatest one they discovered

was that love was really the cure.

 

CRR

4-10-20

❤

 

 

Day 9 National Poetry Month

*An ekphrastic poem is one inspired by an image.

 

A lambent glow beckoned

as deep within the sacred grove

sprites and wolf spiders

emerged from the mossy loam,

  dormice and forest fairies

from their honeysuckle nests.

 Red squirrels abandoned stores of pine nuts

and the ironclad beetle his lichen,

as a convocation of fireflies

drew us all from

the deafening darkness.

 

CRR 4-9-20

 

 

 

 

Poems For National Poetry Month

• 

Today Facebook Memories reminded me of four poems I wrote in past years during National Poetry Month. I’m sharing them again along with the one I wrote today for your enjoyment. I hope you and yours are staying healthy and safe. ❤

Grateful

Grateful,
for ambrosia days
that float like feathers
on clouds of cherubic song,
for velvet nights
that caress my soul
with the essence of peace,
for remembered smiles
that linger like honey
in memory’s taste buds.
To the dark and putrid moments
that create contrast
in my mind,
they say you’re
quite necessary,
but could I politely decline?

CRR 4-7-16

• 

• 

• 
• photo from Virginia.org

Divinity found.
Along the midnight blue lines
of the curved arcs of dusty brown and foggy forested greens,
the jagged montane towers that dove and metal gray, and alabaster winter clouds hold in their opaque arms,
of the mammoth mounds of metamorphic memory,
of stately sediment rising slowly through eons,
of the silent silver skylines’ whispers
of those who’ve traversed these peaks and ridges
with little but hope and desire and salt,
of those who lost and
those who gained in their losing,
of wanderers who seek wisdom in the wild and
find religion along the august horizon.

CRR 4-7-19

 

 

 

 

Peace and Love