Holiday Furies

I will always
miss those long-ago years
when my gut was strong,
strong as my heart is wild. 

I will always
miss those long-ago years
when pain was an abstract,
not concrete in my bones. 

I will always
miss so many things, but 

I will never miss you,
hope eater. I will never
miss your bullying feasts-- 

my young fury and I
standing in our dark, hoping
for better years to come,
when you’d gorge yourself
on loneliness.

When I was very young--and not in charge of my life--I couldn’t refuse accompanying my parental unit to a “holiday celebration” at a relative’s house. The relative in question was a monster, who threw their wealth in the faces of those less fortunate. They were so subtle about it, that even a kid could see right through their bullshit. Year after year, that beast (passing for human) ruined people’s holidays. My poem was inspired by a memory: One of the younger cousins wouldn’t stop crying, after she realized that none of the gifts being opened belonged to her. Grinning, the hosting beast told the child that she was sure her mamá would have something for her at home. I saw the child’s mother’s eyes shine with unspilled shame. I glared at the beast, and thought: One day, no one will come to your shit parties. You’ll be all alone. And you’ll be sorry. Not very sweet, I suppose. But what can I say? I save my sweetness for people who don’t have a black hole where their humanity should be. 

Speaking of awesome people, I hope you have a Holiday Season full of all the good things your brain and heart have been hoping for, and a New Year that brings wonder and goodwill. Be happy. Be kind. Be loving (especially to yourself). Be hopeful.

Hope is much stronger than rage, too… such a powerful little word, hope.

– for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #157: Holiday Anxieties), where we are invited to write about holiday anxieties. I’ve never felt anxious about the winter holidays, so I wrote about the holiday rage my younger self simmered in for years… 

Bits of De(light)

not-quite Journaling, 77

succulents--
green bits of delight
grown for joy

10/20/2024: Life is rather rough, at the moment. So, when Rosemary invited us to find inspiration in “things [we] delight in, which make [us] feel blessed and glad to be alive in spite of all the bad”, my soul and skull filled with vibrant images of tiny plants in tiny pots. I enjoy mini-gardening (especially when I’m sad or anxious or angry or hurting…). It’s green therapy! I love selecting the perfect tiny planters: a cracked finger bowl (see image above), a chipped teacup, a ½ ounce shot glass (that used to be a wee candle jar). There are more things (and people) that make me feel grateful to be alive, but today I’m choosing tiny plants and tiny pots. 

What about you? What “things you delight in, which make you feel blessed and glad to be alive in spite of all the bad”? 

 

 10/24/2024: Because some days (years?), one must get the energy to fight (and thrive) from unlikely sources (emotions?) available to one. Yes, by “one” I mean me (and you too, if you wish). 

 

a green treat
to warm my tastebuds
until spring

10/29/2024: Tonight is supposed to bring our first below freezing day of the season. So, I harvested the last of the tomatoes. A bit late for tomatoes, I know. But the unseasonably warm temperatures have been blooming and fruiting all sorts of things. Really, my sunflowers and gloriosa daisies are still blooming too. I wonder if they’ll be all frosty tomorrow… readying themselves for the Winter Solstice. 

What’s nature being up in your bit of the world?  

– for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #155: May Bite!)