Our Memory Remains (or should)

Let’s celebrate freedom, you say. And I rage and rage and rage… and wail. I reach for the word—free—and the fingertips of my left hand almost touch the fringes of a cloak… before the torn fabric of how things should be gets lost in mayhem made of your wind and the reality storming over the unlucky many.

Let’s feast, you say, firework the heavens for a night. Yester-days are gone, grab today. And I search and search and search… and weep. I reach for answers in your eyes, and see that time suppressed terrors and common sense, but memory remains.

freedom is real
only when enjoyed by all,
let us remember

the wee notes…
– This haibun was partly inspired by this blackout poem.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform.

Of Skulls, Wild Blessings, Pain and Ink

I got out of bed counting skulls. I always find healing in the act of counting blessings. If you know me a bit, you aren’t wondering about my use of the words skulls and blessings in the same paragraph—I love skulls, and recalling the tales of how they got to me is quite soothing.

Take the skull in the photo below, as an example. It’s a gift from my friend Lynne, mistress of the Insomniac’s Attic. She gave it to me during her last visit to New York City… in which we delighted in old books, got lost looking for an antique shop that insisted on hiding behind a delivery truck, and witnessed a rather irresponsible New Age seller tell a customer that onyx stones would give her telepathic powers.
Weeks later, the outrage I felt towards the seller’s statement (and the amusement my reaction brought to Lynne’s face) makes me laugh like a maniac. Laughter heals. The same is true of rituals and symbols. That’s the idea behind the grouping in the image: a frog from Stacy, a skull from Lynne, rosemary from Gina, and a mini-book from Emma, every piece sitting on a stone and a shell that holds its own tale. Even the black ribbon has a story, and telling myself all those tales (and laughing) pushes the aches away. Yes, it’s magic.

After saying goodbye to the frog, skull, rosemary and book, I started breakfast and made my bed. The quilt filled me with warm grins. It’s a handfasting present from my Mother-in-Law. As my not-so-perfect picture shows, the squares make an M or a W (for Magaly & William). And yes, the stitching forms lovely hearts. How cool is that, my Wicked Luvs? How could pain and exhaustion ever compete against the love put into such thought-filled gift?

Some gifts are unexpected treasures. The memories of when I first saw them always rush through me like a wave of ecstatically surprised endorphins. Yep, I’m referring to the bee kissing crabapple blossoms in the photo below. I was gifted this glimpse into Nature’s crafty magic, right after having spent a couple of hours searching for mushrooms. The search was a total fiasco… So, I was justifiably disappointed. Then I saw the bee… and the blooms… and I was delighted. Oh yes, I’m grinning like a lunatic, just thinking about it.

I’m writing this post while my heat pad does its magic on the pain that kicks my back. And “Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!” I’m smiling, as I think of gifts… of friends… of spring… of skulls… of wild magic… of every experience life has inked into my blood… and of how lucky I am to have the strength to craft them into poems and stories to share with you.

Do you count personal blessings? If so, do tell me of a wee blessing that brings all sorts of gigantic smiles to your face. Yummy grows yummier when spread. Really. 😉

My Love Remembers

With the approach of the Winter Solstice, I find myself going through old files, old boxes, old pictures, thinking of the bits of my heart that are no longer physically close to me. I wrote this one after spending some bittersweet moments browsing through photos of my little brother…

“My Love Remembers”

I bled my heart
over a porous stone,
wrapped it in dark moon,
placed it over warm honey,
fresh rosemary, sage
and cinnamon bark…

by stone and moon—spiced
and honeyed—my love
remembers yours.

for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platform
Heart and Honey