Souvenir from Silence There was a song I never played, though I loved it so. As a child I would have worn scratches in the record because children always know. There was a dance I never danced, though I loved it so. As a child I would have worn blisters on my feet because children always know. There was a place I never went, though I loved it so. As a child I would have worn a path to get there because children always know. There was a child I never heard though I loved her so. But then I stopped to listen to my own heart singing, and now I see all that she was trying to show.
Dancing on Water Oh master of rhythm, You, outgoing tide, daring me unabashed to go for a ride. At first just a kick followed by a sway then, in a heartbeat, you met me halfway. I saw where it was going. I thought, "why the heck not?!" The jazz, it moved me to waltz, twirl, and trot. You came to my knees wanting to play, a daring partner, I could have danced all day. I couldn't stop myself; it felt so right: ribbons unfolding, with layers of white, lured beyond ego by a pure, sparkling light. Where water met sand, I tapped all alone. The joy of the moment, calling me home.
Blessed Contrast Thank you contrast For you have lit my path Showing me the swells In a sea of bigotry Designed to incite a reckless wrath Ignoring genuine cries for basic dignity. Without a long night Ended by a brighter day, I think I’d surely Lose my way. I might lose faith, I might turn away, But seeing there is hate I know for certain love is on her way.
Breaststroke Breathing toward the lighter path life’s turns ahead I know so well At the edge Pushing forward In a face-first Glide Reaching Kicking Breathing-in Pulling the wake Apart With Resistance Pressing me down And Buoyancy Keeping me up As I raise My brow Water drips Into my mouth Knees bend Then straighten Then feet Whip together Inching toward another head first Glide Watching my thoughts as I stroke I muse “Suffering leads to joy; Joy leads to freedom” Or “Joy leads to longing; Longing leads to suffering” Unless I Exhale and Just let go Of want I can swim In circles Or Swim continuously Choosing or not choosing Thoughts That propel me Toward Destinations I’ve known Or Destinations I’ve Yet To know
Ducks in Peril Against a tapestry Of falling water Ducks dip low To Scour the depths On the edge Vigorous paddling Avoids the pull Of relentless Gravity They just can’t Resist Impulse With a quiver They satisfy Temptation Swallowing Savoring Trusting Reflex Holding them Back From Certain Danger
Evening Stroll July's golden sun is turning molten as my footsteps bounce above the Androscoggin. Swarms of hungry insects can't spoil the tenderness of a puppy walking it's owner. Another bridge, with gates fully open, the birds joyous as water rushes freely. The roar of traffic reduced to a whisper as headlights dot the causeway. The day says, "it's your turn," and the night is ready.
July Morning July morning Smells Sweetly cool Headphones On a Bluetooth I play Simon And Garfunkel Cheerfully I amble Ignoring the stops and goes Of thirsty motorists. Disregarding gazes I listen intently “They’ve all gone to Look for America”. Time takes me To another path This ones a tunnel Of green that Hides the river And houses a cardinal Easily spotted Bright red on Green canvass. Fallen limbs distract From a nest Never noticed Until I began To listen With my eyes And look with My ears.
Motherless Mind I hear her restless chatter Tapping my shoulder Again she reminds: “Maybe you should call him” But I ignore her plea So she taps a bit louder: “Maybe you’ll lose him” Please, stop pestering me! I leave the room She trails behind Popping in and out of My unsettled mind What was it you wanted? Why are you here? Again I listen, But nothing is clear Finally I listen to the disturbance in thinking She’s suddenly small Appears to be shrinking I think: I've done all I can do To think quietly Without listening to you! But then I see The problem is me Not the outside shell that has a name It’s the nameless one I've left in alone in her pain.
Time Off Hot and hazy Being lazy swimming, eating, reading, sleeping in broad daylight. Spending time as I wish Free from calculation events unfold like tissues from a box One after another, but never all at once. over doing, under doing, creating a dreamy contrast.
Body Image In the mirror I compare her toned physique, to my midlife mass. I try to blur reality With a fantasy: I’m at my 10 year high school Reunion, in a v neck dress That’s flattering in every way. My hair is cut short as it is now My breasts are full from nursing, My legs are long and toned from step aerobics and an endless metabolism, I turn all the heads, I never thought I could. I’m doing the cha cha in that 28 year old body. But then I wake with a jolt. I see midlife reality: Flatter chest, widened hips, chunky middle, chubby knees and thighs. What am I doing in this body? I try to focus on the steps. Wave my long arms and fingers In time with the music: Attempt a slide, A body wave, Trying to Focus on the beat. Watching the instructor I try not to envy Her perfect butt, Toned thighs, Toned hamstrings and Narrow waist. I think, "my hair looks good." I smile, thinking that it might help. I try to make peace with the her that is me, Doing the best she can And she’s older, much older. She looks “good for her age.” Then I switch back inside my body: I stop watching it move. Instead, I try feeling it move. I try to go back to the fantasy. My mind keeps darting from learning the steps to judging the moves. "Good!" "Not so good..." "You got this!" "You suck at this..." I glance around and see in back of me: Others are dancing, Working the beat. Some in synch, Many are not, No bodies compare with my fantasy or my reality. (We're all so unique.) I come back to present again to hear the beat, I know and love this music. I can move to it. If I just let go. Learning the steps is distracting. I should just dance to it. But I'm here to learn. And I need to watch her, and myself. The back and forth, her to me confuses my mind. I go in then out of my head. I notice the switch. It feels strange, like waking from a dream every three seconds. It's a time lapse. Just once I ignore the mirror I float into a body wave Slip into a turn Move my hips Do a shimmy For a second I’m suspended: Ageless and joyous.
Aging Gratefully My daily dress: A dab of beige to cover my age black liner painted to offset the sagging lids above my eyes, but really, who am I trying to impress? What is the point of denying my years, of dishrag wisdom and oniony tears? I measure my worth by sifting good deeds, bargained intentions, and occasional bleeds. Have I not paid upfront to sit in this skin, a soft worn couch that my soul sinks in? When will it stop, this circular trance? Open the cage, set ego free! While there's time I just want to see the mere spectacle of this magnificent dance!
Anne with an E 