Unravelling and weaving, sometimes simultaneously

Archive for June, 2015

Hive

I learned long ago
that it’s all about magic
and magic is natural

we can pretend

that somehow we control it
but the most we ever do
is conspire with it
observe its dance
watch its ebb and flow
and move to its melody

skip step shuffling
in time
sometimes a beat behind

a communication
where the sweetest flowers
bloom
full of nectar

We won’t all be able
to dance together

more’s the pity

but even if we have to
dance apart

we can still admire
the slide of the magic
glistening in each other’s eyes
shimmering down each other’s limbs
flowing around each other’s field
warmed honey
straight from the comb
of sacred bees

(c) RCGA 2015

honeybee

the semicolon project

“I got this tattoo as a promise to myself that I would never willingly end my sentence.”

A shout-out for suicide prevention and the moment by moment struggle to keep writing and avoid putting period to the gift that is both pain and beauty.

the semicolon project.

The Fox Dream

From the edge of the woods
an old fox limped
towards me
russet fur matted with burrs
one eye
half closed

He was ready to die
and we both knew it

Our gaze met
and he raised his chin
the old reticence
for human company
burned away
by the bravery of
impending demise

‘Hello, friend’
I hunkered down
attempting
to make myself small
but he was past fear
and went to his belly
his front paws
just touching
my knees

We sat a moment
while he caught his breath
his chest bellowing
beneath his unkempt fur

When he looked up
his eyes were like honey
deep and golden
striations surrounding
a beautiful abyss
fogged with pain
and resignation

I felt the tears
I did not know were coming
slide down my cheeks
as I carefully
gently
reached down to cup his head
between my palms

My heart swelled
wanting
wishing
something my mind
could not
or would not
accept

With one deep
shuddering exhale
he let go
relaxing into my hands
and his beautiful eyes
slid closed
he licked his dry black nose
and offered the rigor
of a smile
more like a grimace
of submission
and I leaned forward
touching my forehead
to his

And so we sat
following each other’s breaths
in the damp early morning
simply waiting
for the right moment
knowing it was imminent
yet still not knowing
exactly

I could almost sense
the slow creep of stillness
rising from the earth
to fill his limbs
before the quiet instant
between one breath
and the next
that I realized
I was the only one
breathing
now

(c) RCGA 2015

The Boiler

a journal of new literature

Surviving Grief

How to embrace grief and heal

unbolt me

the literary asylum

Tales of haunted hotel floors and faraway myths

Some of my short stories, draft ideas and everyday tautologies.

Kosmogonic

Submitting to the Glorious Inevitable

Arrows & Metaphors

M. Sanchez Cayuso

Inwardly Digest

Reflections and thoughts on faith, life, and the Christian Tradition

Mohn Foto

Photography

SCAeveryday

Society for Creative Anachronism Every Day of Your Life!

Ranger Medic Nurd

Thoughts of a Park Ranger turned EMS about nurdy cool stuff!

Natchitoches Parish Journal

News, Sports and Information for Natchitoches Parish

rivrvlogr

Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)

Michael Cargill

Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.

writerchristophfischer

Books, Reviews and bookish thoughts

MyGreedyLove

Dating, Sex, Rants, Relationships, Non-monogamy and Random Shenanigans

eBayism School of Thought

AWAKENING THE SLEEPING READERS

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