the earth is not flat opinion can’t make it so life, death, and taxes
the sun rises and the sun sets the moon’s face cycles new to full we’re all bound by gravity’s pull the truth is absolute and yet
it’s easy to forget and let emotions cloud our fickle minds you know it happens all the time we pick and choose what to believe it makes us easy to deceive like silly sheep we follow blind
she smiles when she thinks of simpler times before life became complicated, before the world split into two when blood was thick and skin was deep and love bore all things and believed all things... smiles, though remembering breaks her heart
restaurants and movie theaters consider me a senior, rewarding my longevity with fifty cents or so, might as well be two cents, though I don’t need yours or anyone’s opinion these days when everyone has one, clinging to it like truth. opinion is not truth, that’s my two cents. take it or leave it. but I digress, back to my status, senior, elderly, of a certain age, labels that feel odd considering the forever greenness of my mind, of my perception, clouded by smoke and mirrors that taunt me, body softening, surrendering to gravity, hair thinning, my gait pensive, cautious, slowing, my eyes amplified by thickening glass, I remember when I considered sixty-four, ancient, one foot in the grave, out of touch, out of time, silly me when I was young, invincible, carefree, I don’t feel invincible these days, but I don’t fear the inevitable either, just calm, a certain peace, and grace, oodles of grace that surrounds me like a lazy river weaving round and round with me floating on top of the waves, gazing at the tree tops, backlit by blue, that sway overhead, though I’m soon to be plucked from the current, I’m ready whenever, but for now I’m breathing, the air is sweet and my heart is full, so very full
~kat~
Monday Musings on this chilly Autumn day, just days from the U.S. celebration of Thanksgiving, which will be a bit different for many of us this year. Peace all.
Well…I waited a few weeks to have enough poems to do a proper ReVerse. I am not surprised at the twists and turns of each line and the ultimate hopeful tone.
The truth is, things are pretty chaotic right now with the pandemic raging out of control and our current President acting badly, lying, stirring his sycophants into rage and denial of reality. But oh…reality! It holds a spark of hope.
In the not too distant future we have a chance to get things right. We have a chance to move past the nightmare of the last few years and dare I say it…to dream again. Maybe even realize a few of those dreams…justice, equality, opportunity for all, restoration for our planet, mended relationships with our allies, accountability for those with hostile intentions, foreign and domestic. Not to mention the cracks in the glass ceiling more pronounced than ever…a woman vice-president for American girls, and especially girls of color to aspire to. The future holds a lot of promise and could be a reality if we nurture it and tend it. If we believe.
The last poem I wrote before today was inspired by a Celtic tradition, “telling the bees”, practiced by bee-keepers over the ages. It is customary to keep the bees in the loop especially in the wake of important news…births, deaths, marriage, and in this case, in my case the results of our recent election and the coming inauguration of our new “bee-keeper”. This is very important news indeed for the bees to know. Bees are a sensitive lot, messengers between us the the spiritual realm. The slightest thing can upset them, causing them to flee the hive, stop producing honey or worse, perish. Telling the bees keeps things in balance and sets the stage for good fortune.
I was sitting outside reading and rereading this poem aloud tweaking it here and there. To my surprise a honey bee showed up and landed on my hand. And stupid me…reflexively I shooed it away until I came to my senses and realized what I had just done. I called out to that little bee, and apologized for my rudeness and would you believe, it came back alighted on my hand once more. For a few seconds we shared a moment, the bee and me. It was magical. And believe me…it is true. Cross my heart, I’m not making this up.
Now I don’t know if you believe in this sort of thing, but I’m going to take that moment as a sign that my little friend heard me. That good fortune is on its way. And because of that I am feeling more hopeful than I have in quite a long while.
Here’s to a new week. To new beginnings. To life and health. To truth and compassion. To healing and justice. Namasté. ____________________________________________
Sunday’s ReVerse – 15 November 2020
their slow sad voices repeating it’s the trees clouds drench the hollow we have a voice in what’s at stake the cold air is thin but it will all be over soon we can cling to the promise of spring the dawn is coming we trust our higher angels to mend our brokenness, to reach to fill our honey jars of clay
~kat ____________________________________________ A ReVerse poem (a practice I started many years ago) is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week (or in this case a review from several weeks’ poems).
Background art by “no longer here” at pixabay.com.
time to tell the bees
who among us will tell the bees the honey-hoarder will not leave holed up deep within his hive a brooding lump, by all despised, but for the few who fill his head with lies of victory instead they cannot hide the sting of truth surely they know, they’ve seen the proof alas, a new bee-keeper waits his calm voice speaks of love not hate in empathy he rends his heart he understands us, every part and promises to heal our soul to care for us, his only goal… who will tell the bees it’s done disgrace has lost, decency’s won so they won’t leave us, so they’ll stay to fill our honey jars of clay to fill our lives with sweetness too with all that’s good and right and true
So it is easier for you to find all the parts/chapters of my ongoing fiction series, I created a new page that lists all the links. You can check it out HERE!
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like mercury colliding... 