Scenting Memories

not-quite Journaling, 71

I will find me again & again & again & again & again & again & again & again & again & again & again & again & again...

6/11/2024: My seemingly interminable pain flare-up is finally waning. I’ve never had one last this long… Things aren’t great yet, but I’m able to walk 1.5 miles without feeling like my back, hip, and shoulder will explode. I’m grateful to be getting better, but the setback is always frustrating. I must spend the next few weeks helping my body recover. My flesh and bones feel tender and weak, but I’ll reclaim my strength. I always do. I always will.

 

When
every city
wails and wails,
my urban garden chants
calm.

6/14/2024: The first gloriosa daisy of the season came out to play, adding pre-summery brightness to the (HUGE) bit of green lush that is my balcony garden. The passionflowers, tomatoes, sunflowers, and dandelions are budding. The bees and butterflies and I are terribly pleased. 🪴🏵️🐝🦋🥰

 

summer is passion
flowers blooming purple curls,
scenting memories

6/21/2024: My Passiflora celebrated the arrival of Summer with a (blooming) BANG.

 

On dark days,
summer rains caress
bloom and thorn,
loving softly...
adoring sharply...
as you do me
and I you

on bright days too.

My Piano Man and I celebrated another anniversary (6/28/2024). We ate the same meal we ate on our handfasting day (minus champagne); we watched movies; we held each other extra-long; we did other things *cough*. It was perfect. Life hasn’t been easy for us, on the medical front these last few years, but we couldn’t ask for better on the loving front. The universe isn’t fair when it comes to balance, but it has been great to us (and our love). 

 – for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #133: Summer Words)

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 isn’t 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…)