It’s No Secret

not-quite Journaling, 28

 it’s no secret, friend--
when a soul swims in sorrow,
the flesh drowns in wails

1/15/2022: While in my pain management doctor’s waiting room, I overheard a man say to a woman, “I don’t see how feeling down can make your back hurt. That makes no sense. You need to tell them to up your meds.” I wasn’t going to say anything (meddling in strangers’ business rarely leaves the meddler in a healthy spot), but when I watched the woman lower her head, when I noticed just how much she looked like a beaten dog, I couldn’t help myself. So, I said, “Intense sadness often increases physical pa—” Before I finished my statement, the gentleman (not so gently) told me to “shut the f*ck up”. And I did; not because the asswipe commanded me to, but because the woman had lifted her head and was mouthing, “Thank you”, behind a nervous smile. I hope I didn’t make things worse for her. I also hope that, since my advice was offered at the top of my lungs, a doctor or a nurse heard me and helped her in a safe way. 🤞🏽

 

Good
food feeds
flesh and soul;
bad food eats you
up.

1/19/2022: I wrote this poem bit while reading Skinny Liver: A Proven Program to Prevent and Reverse the New Silent Epidemic-Fatty Liver Disease, by Ibrahim Hanouneh and Kristin Kirkpatrick. The book is wonderfully informative and it has helped me a lot when deciding what to eat, when, and how (to slim my liver). But the elfchen was actually inspired by an Ann Wigmore quote, which someone scribbled on the back of the book: “The food you eat can be either the safest and most powerful form of medicine or the slowest form of poison.”

 

on her back,
Nature polka dots
art that moves

1/20/2022: Last night, I found a moving surprise on my pillbox. Isn’t she cute? 🐞🥰

- for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #11: Feast or Famine.

Passive Aggressive Mean Girl Meets Splendidly Vindictive Woman

Revenge isn’t a dish
best served cold—
I like my retaliation
hot, and spiced
up with all the facts.

- inspired by the event below (plus the realization that I can be as vindictive as the next human):

Some weeks ago, I was scheduled to post a nutrition and weight loss entry on the chronic illness group I belong to. After we were done with our virtual meeting, I asked if anyone could switch with me—I was too busy, my gallbladder attack and fatty liver problems had added too many new medical appointments to my schedule. Someone was happy to help, and while we discussed the details, another member (whom I assume believed herself muted) told someone off camera, “I guess Miss Does-No-Wrong’s magical and disciplined nutrition plan ain’t working like she expected it. Ha!”

One of the moderators heard her too, but I shook my head and mouthed “Don’t worry about it” before he could say anything. Later, he emailed me to say that I was a much better person than he at dealing with passive aggressive bullshit in such a civilized way. I told him not to give me so much credit, I just liked to take my time. And I did.

I waited until yesterday, when I knew that horrid woman and I had GI appointments at about the same time. I wore knee-high boots over jeans I hadn’t been able to wear in about 18 months, I topped it with a cute t-shirt that says, “Witchcraft and Gardening, because murder is wrong.” I walked in front of her ever so s l o w l y (yes, there was serious hip swaying too), and when I saw her surprised eyes were fully on me, I said, “I’ve lost 23 lbs. since I started my ‘magical and disciplined nutrition plan’. What about you?

She didn’t say anything. She just grabbed her bag and walked to a different section of the waiting room. I sat down, grin fueled by fresh revenge, feeling rather good about myself because I had enough kindness left not to end the exchange with, “Ha!”

photo by Dario Brönnimann, on Unsplash
(fine, so I fibbed about how much kindness I had left for her)

- for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #10: So, I Overheard…

In 2022, Enkindle!

not-quite Journaling, 27

 2022 slithers in
under a bleak cape of clouds
it ripped out
of 2021’s rotting grip.

Souls start suffering
the loss (2021 took so much),

then they look beyond the fear,
(Behind 2022’s darkest cloak)
and they see
a spark… perhaps
the sun.

1/4/2022: My Piano Man, the not-so-Little Princess and I had a nice New Year’s Eve—we cooked, we ate, we watched the first episode of The Book of Boba Fett, and we stuffed our faces with grapes (for luck!) as the as the Times Square ball dropped. It was a good night. So, that is the spark I choose to see, since 2022 decided to arrive sunless. 

 

In 2022, Enkindle!

1/4/2022: I seldom do the word of the year thing; but last month, when Dictionary.com shared the word “Enkindle (v): to kindle into flame, ardor, activity.” I knew it was my word for this year. Enkindle has been in my mind ever since. This word feels right, warm, a good focus word for any year (and particularly apt for this one).

 

On fresh snow
an oak leaf conjures
autumn dreams,
under naked limbs
decked in winter lace.

1/7/2022: NYC is being blanketed by the first real snow of the season—cold and lovely (from inside the house). Things didn’t feel half as lovely while I froze at the bus stop. 🥶

 

winter’s bones
can spring the brightest
shoots of hope

1/10/2022: Laurie A. Conley describes her art as “gently spooky”; and that’s true. But there’s so much more to her cute ghost, lively skeletons, and anthropomorphic trees. Her creations brew smiles out of me. They leave me feeling a bit more hopeful. This piece is a new favorite of mine. Doesn’t it make smile… and hope?

 

After
the storm,
a sweet William
dares to spring through
winter.

1/13/2022: This beauty blooms in a ginormous pot outside my VA hospital. I love seeing flowers there… and this sweet William feels extra special (snow is covering the ground, the temperatures have been soul-freezing cold, and this little flower springs defiantly through the bones of her winter-slayed kin). What heart can’t keep from being moved by that gift?

- for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #9: Telling Secrets.