Thursday, July 18, 2013

Life these days

Well, life these days is not always stable, emotionally  
 It goes along in quite an equitable fashion for sometimes a week or so,
 but then one morning you waken, and the birds sing,
but there is nobody to share their song with,
 or the morning sun shines splendidly,
just catching the mountain top visible from the bedroom window,
and there is nobody to whisper to,
 'are you awake - look, look at the light on the mountain' - and loneliness sets in!!!

Each day I receive a posting of random poetry from 'A Year of Being Here" 
This morning, from Linda Back McKay, is a poem entitled 'On the Meaning of'
and oh, it touched me in that tender spot that most times I keep hidden away,
 and that, if truth be told, I want to keep tender, not callused over even with acceptance.
On the Meaning of

This is what life does
It wakes you in the morning
before the morning
glories open and gives you
the sound of your mother's voice.
Life spreads itself across
the ceiling to make you think
you are penned in, but that
is just another gift.  Life takes
what you thought you couldn't live
without and gives you a heron instead.
And a dragonfly, stitching its way
through the milkweed.  Life contains all
of your tears in a vessel
shaped like hands in prayer.
Life is shape, sight, sound, bone.
It whispers and sings and holds
you and you almost never feel it.
You push your way from phase to phase.
You are a horse with  blinders.
You think you are pulling, but you
are being driven.
While going about your solitary life,
one hoof in front of the other,
real life is turning the stars,
like mirrors, in your direction.
Linda Back McKay

But that is just on the melancholy days, and I only dare them infrequently, knowing of Himself's disapproval of such indulgence.....


Morning's Minion said...

Having recently reached the 50 year mark in our marriage, I sometimes feel the sense of mild apprehension--one of us will inevitably be left lonely. One of us will have to cope and go on for a time without the other.

Penny said...

I think you are doing remarkably well, every so often we have to give in.

Wanda..... said...

Such touching words from you, Hildred and the lovely poem brings to mind Joyce Carol Oats' Memoir-The Widow's Story. The beauty of nature and the touching words of others can help us cope with life's sharpest pains.

Not a Granny said...

What a beautiful poem.

Thank you for sharing and hugs to you.

The Weaver of Grass said...

That last line says it all Hildred. I know when I lost my first husband I had days like this for a long time but what happens is that finally you think 'he would not have liked me to get like this' and your spirits lift even if it is a giant effort to make them do so. I send you love.