Depression has been a challenge most of my adult life.
The Dark Battle
~
I sometimes get very dark, my emotions get brittle. Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy that anger at life swells. Try as I might to fight it, this darkness still surfaces, my inner light goes out. But I continue facing it down when I feel its chilled grip.
That is what life is, keeping the good fight, finding the balance, because life is all about balance. The keeping of it, and the regaining of it when it’s lost. And it does get lost at times, very lost
But waging the battle’s an opportunity to confront the profound, and the mysterious. The great mystery we are not meant to solve, but rather to ponder with grace and wonder, in the embrace of love. For love is the gateway to the great mystery. And it is love that will light the darkness.
on the boulevard below
last night’s rain puddles
midst the chaos of metro-clutter
held hostage by tire and curb
as if abandoned
by the disinterested waters
of mother earth
it shoulders its way through the gutters
in search of a welcoming sea
as the rising sun embraces this morning
day begins golden and crisp
bird songs echo empty sunrise streets
prisoners of this quarantine
me and my loyal iPad
we sit by this morning window
with coffee and curiosity
quietly perplexed by this morning’s news
I read The Atlantic online
CNN drones on my wall TV
occasionally distracted
I avoid both angry screens
growing troubled by our human plight
amazed how we never learn
when the answers seem so obvious
in this moment
my head drums
my frustration rises
my spirit slips
my mind drifts
lifting on the vapor ribbons
wafting from my steaming cup
until I stare unfocused
TV announcer’s mouth continues sculpting words
but I have fallen deep into my thoughts
imagining how different it would be
if I ruled this fucking world
this is not a book
it is a rocket into space
taking you to amazing places
beyond your wildest imagination
where you can watch
the golden clouds of Telure
wafting up its emerald climbs
high over its warm cerulean seas
where you can hear
the shrill haunting calls
of fast coral-winged Lellurts
racing into Droon’s violet skies
or see the copper hues
of rustling Parmus fronds
fire the indigo ground mists
beneath Gemin’s crystal trees
or maybe a genie’s lamp
carrying you off to Xanadu
to Kubla Khan’s pleasure-dome
where the sacred river Alph runs
or perhaps an enchantment
that introduces you to Bastian
and you two adventure to Fantasia
to save the kingdom from The Nothing
no, this is not a book
it’s a time travel vehicle
a portal to parallel worlds
it’s a key to unlock wonders
it’s imagination’s magic carpet
it is anything you dream it to be
but it’s definitely not — just a book
ground red ghost pepper
just the very smallest dab
will do ‘ya
ground red ghost pepper
it adds a fiery flavor flair
ground red ghost pepper
makes flamin’ foods that rip
right through ‘ya
soon you’ll be cryin’
as you’re kneelin’
deep in prayer
To watch and hear me sorta SING Ghostin:CLICK HERE
I was so horrified by what transpired in our nation’s capital yesterday that I set out to write a scathingly angry piece. However, it just got darker and darker still, the more I edited — and I was dragging myself under. So instead, I turned to blissful whimsy. I will return to being pissed off tomorrow.
To Sing
~
a tear can cloud the brightest day song will brush those clouds away is not sadness just a passing state but what melody can alleviate
a tune played true as voices ring little sorrows flee from such display thing is, too few will dare to sing and thus succumb to much dismay
yet when life is lived in harmony what sorrow you feel will quickly fade joy shared in chorus works perfectly it swells the soul in love’s serenade
is it not foolish to stem bliss’s bloom to see naught but the dark and gloom sing — let beautiful light the room
Certainly one of my most favorite poets is Gary Snyder. He has inspired me for years to write about the natural wilderness, an endeavor that sparks the ecstatic in me. This short poem of his that follows in parenthesis, “How Poetry Comes To Me”, directly inspired me to write the poem that follows further below, “Why Poet”. I had been in discussion with members of a poetry group years ago. We were talking about where and how we find our muse. Holding in mind this poem by Gary, I wrote the first draft of “Why Poet”. I wrote this revision found here for this prompt.
It comes blundering over the
Boulders at night, it stays
Frightened outside the
Range of my campfire
I go to meet it at the
Edge of the light
This is the era of COVID-19. A horrific experience like none in my life. It has shocked, terrified, and killed. My fear for my family has permeated my daily life. I am old and not wishing to die, but certainly accepting of its inevitability. My life has been full.
But my adult son and daughter have much life still to live. Watching the challenges they continue to encounter, fills me with much concern. However, seeing them embrace the ongoing changes so brilliantly, fills me with much hope. My 7-year-old grandson Alex, my son’s boy, while mildly confused by it all, and ready with questions, is maneuvering this new normal — resiliently.
I worry for his education, but he assures me he finds school online with his friends, “kinda fun PaPa!” He answers the zoom “school bell” on his laptop every morning with a smile. He is bursting with learning, always proud to share with me what new he knows today! He, with great support and nurturing from his father and mother, have shown PaPa — love finds a way.
grandson in zoom class
young voice reading warms my heart
fresh snow falls like joy
