Tag Archives: Cherita

Merlin – 42 Day 31

no concept

of personal space
nudging closer, closer

sprawled on my chest
heavy feet kneading rhythmically
nose to nose, breath to breath


Here we are on the last day of Jane Dougherty’s Daily Poem Challenge, “42”. I am certain that there are many questions left unanswered, even after an exhaustive 31 day effort. I had several unfinished drafts in my notebook. This one seemed to me to be a perfect  one to finish and end on. My cat Merlin has a way of putting things into perspective for me when I become too bothered with the questions of life. His message, I am sharing with you today…

“You don’t have anywhere you need to be ‘mon chéri’ (yes, he talks to me this way…), except right here. Let me feel your fingers behind my ears and along my back as I press my paws against your soft flesh. All you need to do this minute, my dear Kat, is look deeply into my eyes and breathe…in and out…slowly…just breathe…your questions and their answers can wait.”

It’s been fun Jane. Thanks for the poetry form prompt. 🙂

42 Day 29

time for replanting 

pale peace lily, a gift, rooted
in a dusting of dirt and gel beads

you’ve lasted for years, my hope
will you survive, now free, your feet
plotted in peat or die from the shock of change


For Jane Dougherty’s Daily Poem Challenge: “42”. I’m heading on vacation next week and bringing my plants from the office home, where they will stand a better chance of survival, and watering, if needed, by the cat-sitter.  It seems like a good time to re-pot this hearty little plant. I’ve had it for years. It is rooted in just a small amount of soil, plopped into a what was once a bright array of gel dots. They have since lost their color and shape. The plant now sits in a tall vase of goo that barely holds water. Certainly, I am hoping it will spread its roots with delight once settled into nutrient rich soil. But there is a part of me that wonders if plants like people get so used to the prisons they find themselves in, that once set free, they wither away from the shock of change. I’m hoping it’s not the latter. At the very  least I owe it to this little plant to give it a taste of real…or as real as it can be, life, in a clay pot.

Update…I’m thinking she likes her new digs…fingers crossed. 😊

42 Day 28

earth after the tempest

rain drenched, grassy knolls
swelling waterways, sparkling

misty hollows, verdant lush
scent of blossoms, earthy musk
wetness becomes her


For Jane Dougherty’s Daily Poetry Challenge, “42”.

42 Day 27

nothing to see on this overcast morn

the sunlight’s soft, muted, no shadows to swoon
no scampering squirrels, no birds on the wing

let’s happily linger between silken sheets
rhythmically purring, my predator sleeps,
blissful, not bothered as chickadees sing


For Jane Dougherty’s Daily Poem Challenge, “42”.

Shame – 42 Day 26

what kind of monster

rips babies from their mothers,
asylum seekers; punishment for hope

liberty’s promise rots, dead,
behind walls, hate, it’s not safe
the monsters here are real


For Jane’s Dougherty’s Daily Poem Challenge. I read Jane’s poem today again after penning my own. It gives me hope. It is true that some parts of the world are becoming kinder. Not here. My poem reflects the polar opposite to Jane’s poem ‘Pride’. I am calling mine “Shame”.

I learned of a new border crossing practice instituted by our current leaders that is so heinous it makes me sick. (An article from the Houston Chronicle about this HERE.)

As a deterrent to asylum seekers, the border patrol is now separating children from parents. Then the children, some as young as 18 months are deemed “unaccompanied minors” and shuffled into a mismanaged foster system, making it difficult to reunite these families when the parents are released to be deported. These parents are not dangerous criminals smuggling over our border, mind you, but rather families who present themselves to border patrol authorities seeking asylum from horrendous conditions, and even the threat of death, in their own countries. For even thinking they might find safety here, they are rewarded with something even more horrible.

I am heartened by Jane’s happy “42” today. The sun is shining here too; birds are singing. I should be writing about that, but my heart is just not in it.

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