With Soil, Sweat and Grit

The hike puts a pant in our hearts, leaves us with soil, sweat, and grit on bits of skin few hands can publicly reach without blushing a little. My soles and toes sizzle when I plant them unshod on moist soil. My lips (with a wicked old grin) sigh the delight covering the flesh of my feet. My hiking buddy barks at a squirrel that pays him no mind.

Before the sun can twilight the tips of treetops, I pitch our tent. Firewood isn’t difficult to find—my tree sisters don’t mind sharing their dead bones with a soul who cares for their green.

With shelter and grub set for the night, I peel off my threads and run skyclad for a dip. My pup jumps into the stream first (bark and splash, bark and splash). The river is cleansing bliss. It removes dirt, too, so I scrub myself and the pup. Too soon, my pup strolls away yawning… leaving me to swim alone and to grin at the woods on my own.

dirt coated
white pup in the woods,
lies in shame

linked to dVerse (Haibun Monday, 8)
the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Tuesday Platform)

Puppy Covered in Dirt

Of Wailing Salts

Memories of you are often
full of mirth
dancing all over my face,
brightening all the dark
in my eyes.

But not on this day,
when the absence of you
drowns my all in oceans
of wailing salts,
that sting, sting, sting…
until my heart is pickled
in bittering waves of loss.

Memories of you make me
weep with smiles that hurt
so deep, but
they remind me you’re alive
in my memories of you.

linked to Prompt Nights and Poets United (Poetry Pantry, 291)

Crying, by Kimber Fiebiger“Crying”, by Kimber Fiebiger

Flashing Teeth in Melancholia’s Face

Have you ever had a conversation that leaves you staring at the person on the other end of the exchange, and thinking, I can totally see why someone would want to avoid your company?

I know how mean that sounds, my Luvs, but the person in question deserves that and perhaps a bit more. Then again, it’s likely that I wrote this while still too upset about the nonsense that oozed out of her mouth, so the things that came out of my brain’s mouth weren’t all that pretty.

Anyway, I was talking to someone, mayhap a family member *cough, cough, cough*, who called me to complain about her daughter not wanting to spend time with her. After a little while, she asked me how I was holding up (the anniversary of my little brother’s death is only a day away). I told her that I was all right, a bit melancholic, but that’s not unexpected.

“I’m going to spend the day cleansing my altar, listening to music, rearranging my books, and delighting in some gifts I got from friends,” I said. “I will be sad—I doubt anything will ever change that—but focusing on the people I still have always does wonders for my spirit.”

“I know what your problem is,” she said.

“My problem?” I said, not caring for what I had just heard in her voice. “What problem?”

“You know,” she said, her tone adding to the annoyance brewing in my gut, “not being able to find peace after your brother has been gone for 3 years. Someone who is not in The Lord’s—”

I ended the conversation before she spewed something I couldn’t forgive. And before my outrage told her what her problem was. You know, having a daughter who wants nothing to do with her?


…enough of that.

I know better than to waste too much time being upset at someone who doesn’t quite understand the maliciousness that lies at the heart of her well-meaning intentions. I prefer to enjoy my altar, my music, my books and the latest yummy bits I got from friends and from moi.

I promised myself that as soon as I got rid of certain mess I had in the middle of the bedroom floor, I would reward my efforts with a jar from Touch of the Goddess. Well, the mess has been gone for some time… So I got my “Dream” jar. Isn’t it just precious?
Dream Jar, by Sharon

And because Sharon loves to hear me (read me?) squeal, she sent a Muse to accompany my jar. Look at all this black and red yumminess. I’m completely in love with my fiery Muse.
Fire Goddess, by Sharon

Here she is with a few friends… 😉
Fire Goddess, by Sharon (2)

A certain nurse surprised me with an R2-D2 humidifier and a wee Darth Vader wireless speaker. The pair makes me giggle (Rocket Raccoon and Friday Lavender joined The Force *cough*).
Vader and R2D2

My dearest Ms Misantropia sent me a deliciously red and goldish bracelet and a Dawn of the Dead deck of cards (try saying that thirteen times fast!). Can you tell how well she knows me?
Dawn of the Dead Playing Cards

Since I first saw the bracelet, I’ve been wondering about the symbols on the charms…

Sharon also sent me a copy of “Sometimes a Wild God”, a poem by Tom Hirons, with illustrations by Rima Staines. And guess what? You can listen to the poem on SoundCloud.
Sometimes a Wild God, by Tom Hirons

Thanks so much, Sharon, Katarina, and P. Your gifts add all kinds of sparkles to my grin. To all who have called, emailed, texted… to remind me that you are there for me if I need you, I thank you from the warmest pits of my wild witchy heart. I might have to go into my loud-audiobook-and-even-louder-music-cave, in order to digest my grief in solitude, but knowing that you are keeping me in your thoughts makes me flash happy teeth into melancholia’s face. (( 😀 ))