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Cracks

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Some thoughts to begin the day…. Where to begin…. I have so many things I want to get down on paper before they fly out of my head like a flock of wheeling starlings and are gone forever… so I will try: Obedience…. Oh, this word! How I railed and fought against it for so long. Submit? NEVER. Not me. I was strong, proud, independent, intelligent, and unrepentant. I would NOT submit or back down, ever. And yet… perhaps, through a tiny crack in my strong façade, crept doubt that, well, maybe MY way of doing whatever it was… might not be the best way, the easiest way, or the “right” way….  Oh, who cares about being right? I am a seeker, a researcher… I have always looked for answers, for information, for knowledge and deeper understanding… I have not ever been content to rest on what I know now, but rather to explore and search and question… yes, question everything, including myself. And when I do, I discover that I know such an infinitesimal drop of nothing in the huge pool o...
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Rebirth- A Poem

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Of all the hurts I inflicted the worst was my permission to take myself places where my soul screamed I went willingly, mutely stomach crawling, trembling remembered shame and rage now seen as the truth mistaken for thrill young and yearning I gave parts of me away more and more were taken till all that was showing was the spark of my heart winking feebly dimly glowing, almost ashes Your breath softly fanned it cupped it gently coaxed it to life sheltered from the storms first a tiny flame a small fire grew sputtering, strengthening now crackling forth to sustain me and warm the one who rebirthed the fire in me
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Memories of Fred

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Now just because I named my bantam rooster after my dad doesn’t mean Fred was small and cocky…. On the contrary, he was a big man, with a huge presence… I always found his big, calloused hands a bit frightening, and his gruff nature put me off. We had a fractious relationship in my teen years and beyond, but I have been assured he loved me with all his heart. I believe that now…. There were times when I didn’t. Fred was a lot like me, although I didn’t readily admit it. He was a tinkerer, a wanderer, and an inveterate scrounger. He cared not one whit about the latest fashion, and wore his grubby jeans low and baggy. His flannel shirts and striped railroad cap were a signature… pushed back on his head, a two day growth of beard stubble that he loved to rub on my cheek to hear me holler, and a pair of sturdy black leather laceup boots were his usual garb. He cleaned up nicely, and I have memories of him, clean shaven and smelling of Aqua Velva, heading out the door in the evenings. The...
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