The exercise:
Write something that has to do with: breathing.
Because lately remembering to breathe has been a challenge.
Max is currently sleeping peacefully at home with us. Can't ask for much more than that.
Well, I mean, I could. I very, very easily could.
But I'm trying to be grateful for what I have.
Mine:
Somewhere
A forgotten breath
Is held tight,
Someone
Marooned and consumed
By some fright.
Gently
A hand reaches out
In the dawn,
Firmly
Finding, reminding
Life goes on.
3 comments:
Maybe Max is just getting all his shocks for you out of the way now... and he'll be the best behaved, most sociable teenager you'll ever meet! Though that might, in itself, be a shock too... ;-)
Lovely poem; I'm impressed you manage to write like this given the long and difficult days you've been having this week.
Breathing
Soft words spill the last air
From lungs that sag and fold,
When did you become so old?
Shouldn't there be wrinkles,
Lines of age like life's cage?
Not this soft and blushing skin
That barely seems lived in.
Shouldn't you be breathing? I
Would willingly take your place and die
To keep the promise of a life untold.
Be bold,
Breathe again, my little one.
I decided to write mine in the form of a letter because sometimes you should just send happy greetings.
Dear Canadian Farmer Writing Friends,
It has been too long. I meant to write sooner, but I have just been too busy. That sounds so rude though, and I apologize. Not because it wasn’t true, but incase it hurts your feelings. I’ll pretend I’m not hurting your feelings and just continue on. I wanted to write here on the 30th when you asked about the land of broken promises. I was so stuck on this idea I had, but I couldn’t dig up enough research to support my idea. I had the great opportunity to drive across the United States with my family, and there was this enormous stretch of highway on I-40 that was desolate. If you are looking for a real depressing time for self reflection I recommend the Mojave Desert. It's a real bad time. Texas, into New Mexico, into Arizona, and into parts of California were just so depressing. It was hot, and boring, and I kept thinking this was God’s land of broken dreams. He had to have had something else planned for that area. Nothing. There is nothing going on except a couple of Love’s truck stops. Anyway, I never could really write what I was thinking so I just didn’t submit anything. As I read this though, I should have written about city life since I can certainly assume God didn’t intend for that to happen either. On a side note, we watched a lot of Super Friends from the 70's. I feel very strongly that saying I drove across the country in 5 days with 3 kids and dog is not factual without mentioning how much Super Friends we watched. They are very much connected. One literally didn't happen with the other. So that's that.
But I digress! Breathing… ahhh yes. We were speaking of breathing. I think that is what we are doing here in California. I think we are sitting back and smelling the roses so to speak. I am not a stressful person. I don’t stress. I just don’t. I am virtually immune to stress. However, my husband eats stress for breakfast. He sprinkles it on his Raisin Brand Crunch. He pours it in his coffee. He white knuckles it to work in traffic. He can find stress in a pillow. You wouldn’t know it just to know him. You have to really know him to know that he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. His job doesn’t help. He flies fighter jets for a living. I mean, that’s stress! So here we are in the most beautiful place I’ve ever been chilling out relaxing. It is 64 degrees every single day. How is that possible? I’m from the East Coast and we have seasons. This is glorious!! The weather just makes us so damn happy I could kiss a frog. And just like that (POOF) the stress is gone. He is happy. He smiles. He laughs. He is as freaking happy as I always am. Who is this guy? When we leave here and do another 10 years in the military, I will long for this happy place. I will dream of opening windows and breathing in this fresh 64 degree weather.
I went to my first farmers market with my son who is 3. I gave him $7. He bought organic strawberries for $3.50, a bunch of carrots for $2, and 1 sunflower for $1, which the man wrapped in paper for us. I said to my husband, “Hey, I bet this is what that Canadian Farmer Writing guy does. How bout that.” And what did my husband say in response? He laughed of course.
So I’m back, and I’m sorry to read about Max. It’s so hard on parents to suffer through a sick child. We have all been there, and we’ll all be there again. I hope he is officially on the mend and doing all the wonderful little things little boys do. I’m the praying type, so I’ll send a prayer up for him.
Peace Out!
Moses Malone
Greg - I think I could handle that sort of shock a bit better than I've dealt with these past few weeks :P
Jesus, that's a beautiful poem. I know I'm especially susceptible to the content at the moment, but that's seriously incredible work.
Mo - so good to hear from you again :)
Great to hear what you've been up to, and thank you for your kind thoughts on Max. He does seem to be doing much better these last couple of days.
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