It started in trickles…
a delivery from staggering pain of loss that needed to find an escape from my troubled soul. I tried drinking – often into stupors – but that was inconveniently debilitating and time consuming. And I consider time to be my single most valued commodity.
So I cut down a little on the drinking (come on now – I ain’t no saint) and started releasing fragments of that pent up emotion in something that isn’t just pissed away the next day – words.
I spill my guts on to the page.
I dabbled in poetry when I was a child, but I never wrote in earnest until a few years ago. Now my musings don whatever costume portrays their personality best – poems, stories, screenplays, love letters to my people.
Today writing consumes me.
Besides being cathartic, it’s blossomed to rewarding. Not only in that I receive occasional recognition for decent writing skills, no – it goes beyond that.
For a writer to be made aware that the overwhelming passions she lays bare on the page and entrusts to the reader’s eye are understood, are appreciated and are ultimately felt by the reader is…, well it’s… How do I complete that sentence?
This isn’t anything unique to me, many writers I’ve spoken with confirm this truth: we write, we live to hear someone say of our writing —
“It makes me feel.”
Thank you, Mom.
Threads curly-Q ribbons ‘tween and above toes.
Feet rejoice in earth,
Assure my psyche of roots in eternal soil.
Ears drink bird-cries of joy.
Eyes chew on nature’s early fall blush below threatening skies.
Distance passes beneath churning legs,
Lungs fueled by moist healing air.
I pull my heel out of an unseen crawdad den
And say a silent apology to its unsuspecting resident.
I head for home,
Back to today.
But better than I was…
Renewed of spirit, energy, creativity.
In a moment between rains.
Steam floats, surrounds with dawn,
Clear blue frames greens
sharp tipped, round, sap – drip, drip,
greens lime & iridescent,
greens deep, dark, black…
Shadows sharp as a briar’s sting
no smudge of summer
too soon here…
Laughter of friends, family
Cocoon of love, harmony
Thank you, Life
Nine members of my family and almost four-hundred other persons. BA flight 2069, December 28, 2000.
It’s not something I think of often, but my daughter, Rachel, recently posted on Facebook a dramatic re-enactment of the hi-jacking causing a flood of memories. It made me wonder how others on the flight were affected by the experience.
Here’s one article with comments from fellow passengers:
I distinctly remember my heart pounding so loud and slow that other sounds were drowned out. I’d never felt as calm as I felt in those moments – and I’ve never felt that since. I knew we all were on the verge of death, and I was thankful all nine of our family were together so none of us had to face the pain of life without the others. I accepted my fate as easily as I would accept a hug from a loved one.
Does that sound callous? My husband of twenty-two years, the father of my children, had died suddenly in an electrical accident six months previously. Russell, Rachel and I were still reeling from the loss. For me, the contemplation of imminent, sudden death was not at all frightening.
If you were on the flight, what are your memories?
If you weren’t on the flight but have had a similar experience, please share.
The Round House by Louise Erdrich was an entertaining read, excellently written, but her new book The Last Report On The Miracles At Little No Horse is one of the best books I’ve read.
Issues that touch each of us are breached – sexuality and our social standing due to gender and how it would be affected if we morphed genders, faith and how it would be affected if we morphed beliefs. And all of this is woven into a touching, soaring, sometimes hilarious story.
Louise Erdrich is on my short list of favorite authors. The questions she raises in my mind are deep, often new, sometimes disturbing but always worth contemplating.
A memory floats.
No clear vision of -
Yet… clear in feeling.
Soul searing perception
Gut wrenching in loss.
I cry not knowing why
Yet… knowing exactly why.
Moments that will never be again
Moments that defined happiness
Except in memory.