Thursday, June 6, 2024

Pain Isn’t Gentle…

not-quite Journaling, 70

undear Instagram,
your updates suck rotten toes;
bring back recent posts

4/19/2024: My chronic pain group was asked to write about something that made our lives more difficult in a personal level. When I said that I was broken up over Instagram removing the recent posts filter, someone gave me a disdainful look and said some unflattering things about “[my] first world problem”. I wasn’t in the best of moods--I’d spent half the night puking, a migraine was threatening to pop my left eyeball, and my torn back muscle had rejoined the agony party--so, I might’ve told them to f*ck off. With feeling. I know, overreaction galore. But it was a crappy day quickly turning into a crappy week. My brain-to-mouth filter doesn’t work particularly well under those conditions.

 

disturbing,
climate change killing
prettily

5/5/2024: I’ve never seen these wee beauties in my bit of New York City. They are known by many names (Scilla luciliae, violet beauty), Lucile’s-glory-of-the-snow is my favorite. The combination makes me think of brightness and warmth. Also, it’s the perfect name for a flower that blooms from frosty February to still chilly March (or all the way into May… when the weather’s slightly mad).

 

in a tiny pot,
my wee orange seedling sprouts
cuteness overload

5/13/2024: I can’t look at this green baby without blooming into smiles. 🌱🥰🌱


thorns & curls
in my wee garden,
soothing green

5/15/2024: I love the twists and coils, the play of green and metal, the thorns and stones and warmth--soothe for the soul.

 

In flesh and bone, pain
wails misery
s old song;
in soil, Nature
(and I)
bloom cornflowers,
spirit balm,
hope.

5/26/2024: Chronic pain and I have been fighting over my body for weeks. I haven’t landed many punches, not until last night--I slept six hours straight! and woke up to a balcony bursting with bachelor’s buttons. Small steps, right? Then, a glorious kick to the teeth. Yes, I’m talking to you, Chronic Pain Bastard.

 

Pain isnt gentle,
so I must be
hard--grab it by the throat
and squeeze
poetry out of every scream.


I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.
~ Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

 
for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #130: About that Quote…Friday Writings #130: About that Quote…)


Friday, May 17, 2024

Wild and Wilder Woods

not-quite Journaling, 69

 Wishes of doom steal hope
from all.

 12/5/2023: Some truths are that simple. Wishes of gloom and doom infect every heart involved. The opposite is also true, positivity and goodwill can be delightfully contagious--so, let the kindness spread.

 

Dark days wither,
not love.

12/13/2023: This one tells me that, every now and again, when pain seems interminable and hope feels like a myth, we must remind ourselves of the sweeter aspects of our reality. What does it say to you?

 

All I want is you
and wild and wilder woods.

 4/30/2024: All right, so that’s a HUGE fib--I also want to garden under the sun, to run 13 miles a week, to sleep through the night, to read printed books for hours, to travel to the Dominican Republic, to spend the whole day cleaning my home, to swim in a clean river (it’s been forever!), to eat grapefruit, to visit secondhand bookshops, to sip a tiny glass of peach wine, to dance all night long, to… well, you get my drift. The closer I get to the end of my current treatment (this summer 🤞🏾), the more hopeful (and impatient) I get about being able to do so many seemingly trivial things (again).


for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #127: All I want is…)


Friday, April 26, 2024

Homicidal Brats with Entitlement Issues

I am not saying my cousin didnt have faults, because she did. She borrowed books and would not return them until asked. She used ALL CAPS to write of excitement or outrage. And she was convinced sugar was the most important thing in the universe. So what if she feasted in dulce de leche cake for breakfast and spotted dick for lunch? Her mouth was hers to use as she pleased.

Yes, my cousin was weird. But being peculiar--or nutty enough to think building a cottage out of bread, cake, and sugar was a good idea--does not make a person evil. It was her land, her sweets, her magic. And no one had the right to tell her what to do with her stuff. Especially not a pair of homicidal brats with entitlement issues.  

So that is a hard no, Your Honor. I will not remove the death curse my cousin put on Hansel and Gretel. They will never be able to consume anything but sweets: not when their teeth start to rot, not when their blood turns treacle-black, not when their hearts get so inflamed they pop. If they eat anything other than bread and cake and sugar, oh my! their innards will burst into outers. But do not fret, I am no heartless witch. I have baked three apples the two darlings can devour without triggering my cousins curse.


photo by Liia, on Unsplash

  for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #124: Word List)