in a blue sky day
(last night = wee hour morning)
broken sad mourning
My whole life
this date has been a celebration of life
My dad’s life –
a soul who entered this realm November 24 –
74 years of love ago
Today, this date brings tears
and morning mourning
Followed by blue sky
Up on the red roof
Organic buzzing be garden community possibility
Boots on ladders
Roast beef sprout ciabatta
Pirates of the Carribbean
Stories of lobsters racing in
crusty rolls of butter
Once, years ago, I found my too soon gone Grandma
Today, in a swing overlooking a river
graced by such beautiful bridges
touching sky whilst grounding feet
step by stepping ever overwater
I felt my daddy…
I sensed him smiling down upon November
gently holding my heart
and I couldn’t help but feel
the way he gently
firmly let go
of my pink stripe
banana seat bike
as I rode down the hill
of Kosta Drive
all those years ago
That moment I knew he knew
I could do this myself
And gave me the beautiful gift
of setting me
and my bicycle free.
Muse of Collaborative Completion + Visionary for Creative Collaborative ReTREATS
What is your incomplete creative project? Let me help you breathe it to life!
Don’t miss the 5th annual Creative Collaborative ReTREAT, Sep 30-Oct 2, 2016!
We splashed this city all over outselves
Stopped to smell the lingering roses
Went home happily full from our adventures
Life is bittersweet
full of separation, loss, grief, and hurting hearts
full of friendship, adventure, kindness, beauty and truth
I love you
I miss you
Life is good
I want my grief
to be brilliant, fast and gone.
Like Mozart. Or Stevie Ray.
Like fireworks. Boom! Flash!
Ooh, ahh. OK, done. Let’s go.
I want my grief to be brave.
Hurts more now, heals faster,
Grandma said, pouring salt
On a skinned knee.
I want to stand up to grief,
Stand it down, like the
Tiny man, big tank
In Tiananmen Square.
Because. Because if I am brave,
Bold, salty, open enough
The tank, the bleeding, the tears
Will stop sooner. I tell myself.
But grief laughs. Humbles me.
I lose keys, break cups, get lost.
Asked at CarMax Why are you
Selling this car? I burst
Into an embarrassment of tears.
A friend says, One doesn’t have grief,
Grief has you.
We wrestle, to the mat. I’m pinned.
But sometimes I break free.
Break patterns instead of dishes.
Start to write myself a new story,
To fling myself toward yes,
Begin to say, Oh. Now this. . . . Observe
What life brings. Reframe. Say,
I’m not wrestling grief,
So, I put my right foot in . . .
And turn myself about.
I Want My Grief by Peg Runnels