Searching for Balance

I’ve always loved wee bits that pack a punch (I wonder if that’s why I like haiku, senryū, and my friend Rommy so much…). Anyhoo, below I’ve shared a trio of senryū (or human haiku) that are based on the characters and setting of “The Darker Fringes”, my latest short story. If you read the story, would you mind letting me know if the poetic trio sounds like a micro review of it to you?

between blood and fire,
a woman at the crossroads—
walking in the dark

a man isn’t always
truth shining in the mirror—
bright murk is layered

darker and brighter,
reality kisses myth—
in search of balance

.
for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Micro Poetry
and
Poets United, Poetry Pantry 282

Searching for Balance
I borrowed this image from Genius.com. The article is not clear when it comes to the name of the visual artist. If this piece is yours, please let me know. I would love to give you credit or remove it from my blog… if that is your wish.

Expanding Wee Bits of Dark Fiction and Poetry, 6

Two weeks have gone by since “Weirdest” leapt in defense of her home. I’ve been a tad busy with family birthdays, medical appointments, delighting in the colors of autumn…

But I’m here now, right? And I’ve listed five of the word Bits I’ve shared on Instagram or Facebook this last handful of days. Do leave a comment letting me know which Bit you would like to see grow into a story or a full-length poem. I shall develop the one with the most votes. Please make your choice before Monday, November 23rd at 1:13pm EST.

1) Which bit do you wish me to develop?
2) Would you like your choice to be flash fiction or longer poetry?
3) *optional* Why?

Here is the short list:

“Balance”
Night cannot be avoided;
to preserve vision,
in light,
become the darkness.
– blacked out from the US Marine Corps Field Training Manual

“Inert Brain”
ash and air
in an inert brain—
this is death
– blacked out from Ageless Body, Timeless Mind

“Whispers”
crepuscular fall
a forest whispers of death—
in the hearts of poets.
– created from my Edgar Allan Poe magnetic poetry kit

“Be”
Un-earth your senses;
imagine
and be.
– blacked out from Ageless Body, Timeless Mind

“Miseries”
Prejudice is the breath of human miseries.
– blacked out from Ageless Body, Timeless Mind

Miseries, by Magaly Guerrero

Pain, Gut, Symbols… and What I Mean When I Say “Balance”

After seeing how behind I was (on pretty much everything), I decided to give myself a little boost, by creating a mixt post that would at least bring my blogging up to date; one full wee step at a time, right?

Let’s start with my chronic pain: it’s still here; it’s not going anywhere; it’s chronic… So if anything, it has been getting worse. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t get better at dealing with the symptoms. I’m always working on ways to help my sexy body hurt less—through the use of herbs and oils, doing stretches and exercises, relying on my Piano Man’s before-bed-rubs, believing with flesh and soul that I can make it better (the brain is a magical thing). On a less abstract note, I haven’t taken a synthetic pain killer since June 29, 2014. That makes me (and my holey gut) feel really good…

Speaking of my holey gut… Yesterday, my GI doctor stopped one of the two stomach medications I had been on for quite some time. I wanted to be taken off of both, but after a long conversation (about recent lab work and holes in my gut) we decided that it might be best to continue taking the second medication, until after my upcoming tummy tests. In truth, my doctor wasn’t all that excited about stopping any of the meds, but she agrees that our bodies are intelligent things; and my body has been hissing, We’ll be all right without those damn pills… as long as we keep things balanced, witchy woman dear.

A bit on balance: a few days ago an herbalist told me, “For someone who knows as much about herbs, you do yourself a disservice when you mix pharmaceuticals and natural medicines.” First, my Wicked Luvs, I don’t know as much about herbs as this lady has presumed that I do. When a friend, a professional, or a person living with my same maladies suggests a remedy (natural or synthetic), I research it like a mad woman and then make a decision. I believe that Nature offers most of what we need to prevent disease and to heal that which is already diseased. I also believe that Nature is not a surgeon, so thank goodness for man-made and man-learned things, such as quick acting synthetic medications and laser surgery. I believe in balance: dancing with Nature and Science gives my witchy body the best chance.

On symbols… I was just reading the comments some of you left on “My Weird Sisters” (the poem I published before this post) and my heart filled with grins. Before I detail the reasons behind the mirth, let me share a larger quote from the Terry Pratchett novel that inspired the poem: “Your average witch is not, by nature, a social animal as far as other witches are concerned. There’s a conflict of dominant personalities. There’s a group of ringleaders without a ring. There’s the basic unwritten rule of witchcraft, which is ‘Don’t do what you will, do what I say.’ The natural size of a coven is one. Witches only get together when they can’t avoid it.”

I was grinning like a word-loving-Pratchett-obsessed-lunatic because your combined responses reiterated a belief I hold so close to my soul that you could say that it feeds me: Words mean everything.

According to your responses, “My Weird Sisters” is about community, about solitary practice, about different parts of one self… When a couple of my friends argued, over what the poem really meant, they decided to email me and ask. My response to their inquiry: “Poetry is poetry. It can mean a million things. And it does.”

And that, my Wicked Luvs, is what keeps me rereading the works of Terry Pratchett year after year. His writing never tries to tell people what to do… His tales show how different people do all sorts of different things… His crafted worlds nudge all kinds of minds to think critically… and grin.

So… my pain remains, but I’m smiling at it while showing a considerable amount of teeth; my holey gut is somewhat under control; balance means more than just standing in the middle; Pratchett’s words rocketh my world very mucho; I posted a pic of a flower sucking up the evening sun; my health needs are draping uncertainty over my October publication prospects… but I’m alive and grinning…. and this, my Wicked Luvs, can mean all sorts of glorious, promising, chaos.

Yellow Flowers in the Sun