Thursday, July 9

Tag: life

sleeping with walls

sleeping with walls

poem, Poetry
sleeping without walls the fields that year taught the art of sleeping outside, sleeping without walls, watching the stars and moon, our dreams spun from sunsets and morning dew ~ we slept in bedrolls configured from old white sheets and the khaki wool blankets my uncles took to war, i wondered about my uncles as i did about many people, many things and that summer held varied delights, climbing trees, eating cherries without washing them . . . oh! ~ and there were blueberry bushes and fig trees and i lined the path to the food hut with odd sunday stones i said my own prayers while the big girls were at Mass and marveled at my middle-aged mother’s plump knees i marked her spirit for wearing bermudas, for joining children’s games, sitting ’round fires, making ‘smores...

to know well the moments, but nothing of time

poem, poems, Poetry
the mindful peace of the cypress beckons, she bows in the wind but doesn't fracture, she knows well the moments, but nothing of time her poetry is written in presence, not words in this business of life, of death and of poetry yesterday is, i think, best forgotten ~ just a figment, after all, an old locked-room mystery, stored among a million neurons, a trillion connections, sound proof, but for the occasional cerebral accident with its quick crack of a gunshot fading into a yellow eye, evaluating with a understandable skepticism life, as it turns out, is a matter of imagination, or folly, nurturing the seesaw of grief and joy, the contrapuntal pulls of yin and yang we can reframe, but we can’t rewrite there are no encores this business of life, of death and of poe...

Celebrating Sixty-Seven Years on the Razor’s Edge

"Life" Issues, disability, Family, General Interest, Healthcare, heart, inner peace, Joy, serenity, spiritual growth
"Rise, awaken, seek the wise and realize. The path is difficult to cross like the sharpened edge of the razor, so say the wise." Katha Upanishads, verse 1.3.14 SURPRISED TO HAVE MADE IT TO SIXTY-SEVEN In gratitude today, I celebrate sixty-seven years of life, forty-seven years with my world-class son, and sixteen years of survival beyond my medically predicted expiration date. In 1999, I was diagnosed with Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis (IPF) and given two years to live. (No, I have never smoked in my life.) Thanks to the boundless patience and kindness of my son and the compassion and good offices of an extraordinary medical team, I'm still here, sometimes home-bound and always bound to toting an oxygen tank. These complications don't keep me from enjoying the CitySon Philosop...