The Poetry Marathon

Dear Grandma Pauline,

It has been years since

you were called home.

I miss your quiet strength,

and your beautiful, kind spirit.

You were always the best combination

of Southern sass, heart, and grace.

I remember when you would

take my hand and

walk with me

to the store

down the street

and give me money to buy

“a little knick knack”.

And when you would make

homemade biscuits in the mornings –

fresh, flaky, and hot.

We would poke a hole in them,

pour in the thick, sticky sweetness

of Cane Patch syrup,

and eat until we couldn’t hold any more,

licking the goodness off our fingers

when we were done.

Or when we would sit on the front porch,

you in a rocker,

and me and the other kids on the porch swing,

drinking Coca Cola and sweet tea,

or eating melting icy popsicles,

the heat sweltering even in the shade.

But we didn’t care.

Grandma’s house was the place to be.

There are so many other memories,

so many other stories I could tell,

and each them has its own place

on the shelf in my heart.

I wish you were still here,

that I could sit with you

over a plate of blueberry cobbler

and vanilla ice cream,

or even while shelling butter beans,

and we could talk again.

I’d want you to meet you great grandchildren;

my son, an amazing young man

who likes to work with his hands,

and a heart that’s full of goodness.

And my baby girl, a teen full of character,

her presence and attitude larger than life,

with unique hazel eyes just like my dad’s,

your son, who is the reason

I knew you

and your light,

and I’m so grateful to be your family.

I knew you would have loved them

as much as you loved us,

as much as you loved me,

and they would have loved you, too.

I hope you look down and smile at them,

at all of us,

and know that we can’t wait to see you someday.

It was hard when you left,

and it was difficult to see you slip slowly away,

your health deteriorating before our eyes,

the bright spirit fading as physical pain,

and grief over Grandpa’s passing

took their toll on your mind and your body.

But you still shone with inner beauty,

the spark and glow of your beautiful soul

never dimming,

even when the darkness came

and took you away from us.

You still live in our thoughts,

and pictures still remind us of you.

Though we are apart now,

I will be more than ready to hug you and hold tight,

and I’m sure there will be line behind me,

waiting to do the same.

The sleeping fighter

has opened her eyes,

finally awakening

to her potential.

She has screamed

alone

In silence

for too long,

and it is now time

to speak

and let her voice be heard.

She picks up her shield

of inner peace,

cracks and chips visible,

but showing signs of healing.

Reaching down,

her fingers linger lovingly

on the hilt of the most beautiful sword,

born from tears and years of experience.

Lifting it up,

she admires the way the memories

have been built into it’s blade,

and knows that there are more

to be forged within.

She sheathes the weapon at her side,

and then clothes herself to meet the day.

Her face and her skin determined,

not showing forth the battle scars

that lie within,

her eyes the only window

to that shadowed landscape.

She bows her head

and takes a breath,

then stands tall,

squaring her shoulders.

It is time to answer the call.

She has been placed on this earth

to live life,

good or bad,

to make mistakes,

to do things right,

to show love and compassion,

and to navigate the ever-changing world.

Never alone,

she has support

and hope,

and each day is a new adventure.

Bring it on.

Shine, carry the light.

Darkness can’t cover pure love,

a beacon of hope. (more…)

Lovely lusciousness lays before me,

and I can’t wait to do more

than just

whet

my appetite.

My eyes linger on

each

delicious,

delectable

detail,

and I’m almost

dizzy

with anticipation.

I longingly lick my lips,

a sweet sigh escaping softly

as my excitement grows.

Closer,

closer,

and closer still,

until it is all that I can see.

My whole world is filled

in this moment

by the brazen and bold

beauty before me.

I reach out

and take

what is mine,

unapologetically

brash

in my thrall.

I am unashamed

as I reap my reward,

finally

getting a piece

of my favorite

chocolate cream pie.

Breathe in –

fresh air and new life

fill every fiber of my being.

My very existence

is tied to the rush of wind

within my lungs,

each and every cell

grateful for the gift

that continuosly renews itself

as long as my body still moves

and my heart still beats.

Breathe out –

the old stale past

flows away,

leaving behind

a clean and empty slate.

Already circulated particles

pick up the pieces

of dirt and doubt,

and they are pushed out,

making room

for the next breath

to start the cycle again.

Huddled inside a shelter

of my own thoughts,

doubt the stakes in the ground,

self-loathing poles stretched tight

as fear created the covering above.

Hope waited outside the door,

patiently looking for entry,

and love sneaked in

through the cracks.

Any storms outside

were nothing

compared to the tempest

that raged within.

The demons and shadows

were slowly torn apart

as the wind of fortitude

and squall of resolve

blew apart the darkness,

and opened up to

the light of realization

and the beauty of inner strength.

No one else

understands my rhythm –

the music I hear in my head,

or the sound of my own special song.

I am who I am.

I sing what I want.

I dance with my own steps

timed to the beat of my heart,

and driven by the dreams

in my soul.

Eyes closed in escape,

mind wandering beyond truth,

soul-searching sleep

Sunshine beams brightly,

golden nectar seeps deeply,

light filling my soul.