Unravelling and weaving, sometimes simultaneously

So much this.

Words for the Year

you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him traveling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do…

View original post 40 more words

Rain Day

The humidity is high
a damp grey curtain
made of wool
that clings and weighs me down
each time I venture out

Yet the birds sing
repetitive echoes in the trees
and somewhere
a dog barks once
punctuation to the cicadas
and crickets
and small frogs calling
for rain to come

100_1173

(c) RCGA 2016

Dear Janet

Dear Janet:
Writing you on the other side
to say that
I wish I could lie on your table again
and have you tell me
the same thing
you did before:

Remember a time that you failed.

I was young then, Janet
I was so green and full of hubris
I did not want to fail
and had worked hard
not to ever be seen as a failure

Pride.
Pride in the spring
before the long summer
Pride when the flowers blossom
ignoring the inevitability
of the petals falling away

Yes, I have failed, Janet
many times now
I have fallen and gotten up
over and over
as the weight of experience and years
piled onto my shoulders
and I chose a rocky path
or tripped on my own feet

The buds crested,
their full perfume a memory now
but there has been fruit
something to sustain me in the harvest
and hopefully, Janet
the seeds I preserve
will weather the winter
so I can share them
before I am part of the loam.

I am learning, Janet
I am learning that failure
as you said
means I am reaching farther
than the safety
of trying to be perfect
I am trying harder
to grow.

(c) RCGA 2016

This is my 200th post here.

For Janet Mentgen, RN and Healing Touch mentor, who passed in 2005.

Healing-Touch-Janet M

I hear your buzzing, and it drives me mad,
that soft, incessant humming that you do;
though you are not my enemy (I’m glad),
I’m still tempted to hit you with my shoe.
But I’m resolved to let your buzzing be
(Ha, did you catch that… bee? You are not one)
live and let live as long as there’s no stings.
You really push my human frailty
droning against my window in the sun
fabric chuffing on your beating wings.

I opened up the window for you twice
and shooed you towards it; but you clung there, staid
red body pushed against the glass, a vice
too stubborn to escape when you were bade.
What festers in that tiny brain of yours
that keeps you in, but beats against the wall,
unable to take freedom freely shown,
yet constantly seeks to be out of doors?
Wee russet warrior, you are very small
yet fierce determined, tap, and chuff, and drone.

I could just redPaperWaspcapture you and set you free
against your will into the sultry air;
but it’s become a test twixt you and me,
and giving in just doesn’t seem quite fair.
So I will sit, and listen to your hum
two feet away from a wide open door,
and contemplate the qualities of glass
and wonder what’s made my ambitions numb,
that I do not push boundaries like before,
but seek the least resistant route bypass.

(c) RCGA 2016

Crazing

The goal is for
both form and surface
to heat and cool
at the same rate
to grow and retract
in seamless
melding motion
creating a smooth bond

Life is more like raku
in application

adjustments coming
rapidly
and unexpectedly
small cracks
sending quiet pings
rippling around us
disturbing
with the sound of fracture
skins both thin and thick

(the irony is that if glaze is applied
too thickly
it enhances the crazing…
so the thicker the skin
the bigger the cracks
and there’s no escape
from that flaw
once it’s fired into place)

Rivers of seams
fractal out from our growth spurts
visual reminders
that change comes
and leaves its mark
when we grow too fast
for our skin to adjust

There is no polishing them away
and yet
we can delight in it
take deliberate pleasure
in both subtle and garish fissures
displaying our age
and experience
in such a visual way
no one can mistake them
for anything
but battle scars

No dismissive critic
drawling insults of our crazing
can understand our depth
and strength
or provenance

(c) RCGA 2016
Crazing is a spider web pattern of cracks penetrating the glaze. It is caused by tensile stresses greater than the glaze is able to withstand. ~”Ceramic Glaze Technology”

glass-pattern-blue-lakesidepottery

Lakeside Pottery: Blue Glaze

I started sketching you
but couldn’t finish

as if your spirit
is still too restless to hold still
and I can’t capture it
with the scraping of graphite

can’t trap it
on the flat plane of Bristol
while it convolutes
with some stuttering spark
threatening
pencil wood and paper
alike

You always were
like the wind
no matter how solid you seemed
now you are in it

and I can’t draw you
down

Drawing-Hands-Escher

(c) RCGA 2016

Early in the morning
on the day after the sabbath
I went to where you lay
in a garden sepulchre
cold wet with dew

but you weren’t there
the tomb was open
the scent of myrrh still sharp
wafting from the stones

I couldn’t comprehend
why after all that had happened
this simple thing
all that I asked for
to be by your side a while
before that long forever
of separation

was taken away

why you were taken away
or by whom

Perhaps I had jumped to conclusions
maybe my faith was, after all
too small
but I had seen you gasp your last
release your spirit
lie pale in your mother’s arms

I had stood by your body
and bathed the blood and dirt away
anointed you a final time
as I’d poured the spikenard on your feet
brushed your hair back from your still features
wrapped you in linen

Those men, so bright
asked me why I was weeping
asked me who I was seeking
asked me…
didn’t they understand?

It wasn’t until I saw you
and even then, I didn’t dare believe

No, I couldn’t grasp the wholeness of it
until you said my name

You were as bright as they were

and I couldn’t stop crying

Teacher
Teacher

In every conversation we ever had
you reminded me this would happen
and yet somewhere in my heart
I didn’t know the truth of it
that your death
was not the end of the story

and I shouldn’t cling to you
in that way

Instead you sent me off
from the city of the dead
to the places of the living
to tell the others
the prophecies
were fulfilled in full

I am just a woman
who has followed you
basking in your wisdom

I am just a woman
who has been blessed beyond measure
to testify that one morning
I went to visit you in your grave
and instead saw you risen from it
accompanied
by angels

alonso-cano-noli-me-tangere

Alonso Cano: Noli me tangere

3-27-16 (Easter) (c) RCGA

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