Hour 5/Long Car Rides

Long Car Rides

They told me long car rides were the most painful,

the time when silence stirs sweet memories and

tears surge, those moments — raw, unavoidable grief moments 

 

They weren’t wrong,

No, those who had suffered lose before me,

were not wrong.

 

It has been two years since my mother’s passing,

and mostly I drive with the radio on,

the louder the music the better to subvert silence,

loud music to prevent the onslaught of tears,

that strike in the quiet, raw grief moments 

but sometimes 

I choose the silence 

I choose the silence to remember

to remember mom kneeling in the garden,

tending vegetables,

gathering clippings of yellow daffodils,

plucking ripe cherry tomatoes

 

I choose silence to remember

mom nestled beside her grandchildren, reading, singing…

I choose silence to see mom kneading dough,

spreading her love through cooking

I chose silence to listen to mom’s voice,

calling my name. I must strain to hear.

 

Sometimes,

I just chose silence on long car rides,

choose silence and tears to remember.

 

 

Hour 4/No Holding Back

“I cross the street without an arm to hold me back” — They Both Die At the End

 

Cross the street

don’t glance back

because walking in fear is walking

in darkness

 

Don’t let the world

hold you back,

fight inertia

add bumps and curves to the line

move with purpose

find your light within

believe you are strong

be true

true

to yourself

 

Cross the street

don’t look back

move forward,

carry on

take the next step

and the next

and the next

because holding still

and pretending

is

death

Hour 3/Be Alive

I gulp fresh air with full breaths

Infuse life in lungs

 

I smell fragrant life of summer

the freshly mown lawn,

mingled with perfumes of 

gardenias, hyacinth

jasmine

 

I run hands

through damp earth

 

I dance between the raindrops

Touch life

 

Hour 2/Long Run at Dawn

Long Run at Dawn

Just breath & thumping percussion of sneakered feet

the rush of wind whistles soprano

heart pulsing like steady music with solid beat

 

Running through morning mist, dewy lawns, 

tulips unfolding to the sun blooming, 

bleeding red into horizon at dawn

running into the day

Hello

Hello Fellow Marathoners!

I hail from Cleveland, Ohio and I’m a middle school teacher. This will be my third 1/2 marathon, and I can’t wait to write again with you.  I have a commitment in the morning I couldn’t reschedule, so I may be playing a bit of catch up throughout the day but I’m ready to go with all my provisions: coffee, coffee and more coffee!  Happy Writing Everyone!!!

 

Hour 12: Maybe I Want it to Be

Line from Simon vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda

“Maybe I Want it to Be”

Maybe beneath the aged weeping willow,

boughs bending in supplication to earth

I will discover a sunken hideaway

 

It will be buried underneath gnarled roots

which grip black soil, like old friends clinging

to one another

 

A secret cavernous sanctuary

to burrow safe from disease with

complex veins of hope and magic

to filter life and breath

a fantastical child’s palace that fulfills all 

want —

where no one weeps

Maybe I want it to be

 

Hour 11: The Masks We Wear

Inspired by Paul Laurence Dunbar “We Wear the Mask”

The Masks We Wear

 

A veil obscures me from the eyes of others,

false confidence under strained smiles masks my desires for belonging,

a pretense of confidence, swathed in fine thread

is ardent desire to end what unravels inside me, and to stop

what — shifting sand, which keeps me from discovering solid ground

where I can stand

we are not “we”, I am only “one” 

and I wear a mask because I must

Hour 10: Moonshadow

Bloated on city noise, bright lights,

cheap whiskey and bad luck, he

ventures elsewhere, away from

anxiety filled days and sleepless nights

makes his move across rutted back roads

to the deep country, a cabin off the beaten path

secluded, silent, only the whispers of wind to keep

him company

By chance he

catches his shadow spilling across 

a still lake, shaded in forest

under a blood moon, 

and the celestial bodies speak, open his eyes

to the world

his old life slips away, a fleeting dream

and all that is left

is the present moment

and deep unadulterated night

Hour 9: Fretful Nights

 

The fretful night ushers

morning lethargy which hangs strange 

and heavy in this otherworldly reality

where the masks we wear bring us together 

and tear us apart

Over a Zoom we share a bottle of hope across screens

dream tomorrow when children catch fireflies 

in the summer heat

Hour 6: Qi

Qi

So it begins — not too early I’ve never been one to court dawn —

        breath and fluid motion,

                cultivating life energy 

Deep breath, 

      cleansing breath,

               in and out

Later the warmth of a coffee-filled mug in my hands 

                      my soul smiles with each caffeinated sip

A leisure walk along the bluff 

           an afternoon swell of wind is a kiss on my cheeks,

                  the azure sky and sun glinting off the lake energy within  

                          Expel warm breath, push sailboats into specks on the horizon

Cool firelit evening, crackling campfire

            My family dissects the world. 

                 Falls into a collective existential crisis but resurfaces

                    with lighter conversation of books and music

                            shares laughter into wee Witching hours — 

So it ends with harmony and deep breath, 

           cleansing breath, 

               in and out

                    It ends with air — Qi