Thursday, September 26, 2024

Screaming Doesn’t Help (much)

not-quite Journaling, 73

Screaming doesnt seem to help much,
so
I shall harvest myself a soothing.


9/22/2024: I’m not dead. I figured I should put that out there right away. I haven’t been feeling awesome--physically or emotionally--but I’m getting better. I lost several friends, to a preventable accident, in the last few weeks. The grief hasn’t been easy on my flesh or bones or spirit. I needed a break… I’ve spent a lot of time crying (all right, screaming rage-filled tears), reading old favorites, watching my plants grow, letting my Piano Man comfort me, smiling at messages from many of you (thank you!), and straight out roaring with laughter at increasingly outrageous memes from Rommy (humor--particularly dark humor--is one of my favorite medicines, and mi querida amiga knows that).

Today, I chose to celebrate the Autumnal Equinox by doing some harvesting and delighting in the gifts my wee garden has produced this season. I pulled the sweet potatoes out of the soil with my bare hands--the dirt felt warm and alive, and I bet the potatoes will taste just as life-giving. The tomatoes have been sweet, juicy, and plentiful. The passion fruit needs more time (we can relate, can’t we?).

I’ll spend the next few days catching up. I hope life is being good to you. I hope the world isn’t causing you much pain. I hope society’s current turmoil isn’t clobbering your nerves. I hope you are as well as is humanly possible. I hope… for us all.

 

on days marred with loss,
I
ll let autumn rain cleanse pain
of flesh and spirit


  for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #146: Substitutions)

Thursday, September 5, 2024

Unsaid Words Will Die Screaming

Quiet not
the raging mouths that scream
differently tuned

songs, which burst
with conviction, with outrage,
with words you
ve never held
between skull and teeth.

Living words (and people) will
not be muzzled
without cruelty (or war)--

unsaid words
fight to become.
Let them
(we must)
be something,
do something,
say something
...

or lose
everything.

 
The Scream
, by Edvard Munch

  for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #143: What Makes You Scream?)