Mum Through the Years.

Not by birth
and not
in some ineffable way
by choice
but by spirit
and the
salt water tears
we have made our meat
baked the bread
shed the masks
wrapped restless hands in tender gauze
to curtail scab picking obsessions
sat behind each other
on mourning benches
rejoiced in
everything
everything
good
not by birth
not by choice
but by the spirit of the living God
I celebrate
my precious sisters

I am happiest when I start the day stretching
Writing
Telling amazing stories
Of courage and fortitude

When I do not count my losses

When I count my joys and blessings

I am happiest when I reach with love one
Or more friend every day

When I lay aside a good gift for my children
All the universal and one particular
Child
When I remember my beloved
All the universal and also the particular

The best is to find shelter in the arms
Of all arms

Not being happy to hide
But happy to give and live
In love

Some things
Can only be survived
As poetics
We must translate
All threats to human dignity
Every bit of callous
Degradation
We must translate
Spirit
Divine
God presence
Challenging
Soul death dealerships
With a bright shiny
Poetic
Just for you
My love
Just for me
Just for the just
Lovers
Just for the now
As poetics are the now
We must survive
Poetically

Consider all the emotional worlds God’s hands have fashioned.  Surely the most mysterious is the path of life beyond life. It is a bitter joy to travel the path with one we love.  So many have been lost middle passage.  Unable to find the end together. Odd anticipation consumes me.  How will we be blessed?  I know no doubt that blessing awaits.  But of what ilk?

So now we wait

We skype

I peer at your background

I memorize the map of your face

You sweetly say you love me

All expectations condense

to the now

I peer at your detailed calamity

with excruciated eyes