Endings… and Rebirths

In my heart, winter scribbles 

one more calming

tale of rebirth in the making-- 

pages and pages of lived endings,

showing that some deaths are just

another beginning. 

photo by Fabrice Villard, on Unsplash

– for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #158: Prioritize), where we are invited to “prioritize”. The first thing that came to mind, when I saw the word, was a list of all the things I have (want?) to do, and the best way to arrange them from least to most important. The task terrified me. So, I went for something smaller (or just abstract). Winter always brews melancholy in the depths of my heart and skull (and a whole lot of pain in my joints). Nature goes so quiet, so many things die. And too often, it takes me a while to remember that winter isn’t just a cold ending, but the lull that fuels the beginning of a spring to come. So, I’ll focus on that: I will remind my flesh and spirit and bones and me that winter is a death that brings rebirth… eventually.

Under Winter’s Shroud

not-quite Journaling, 48

let me be the heart
of your twilight, the darkness
balancing the light

12/21/2022: I usually rise with the sun on the Winter Solstice, but I went to bed exhausted (from physical therapy) and didn’t wake up until almost 10am. But I (and a dry gloriosa daisy I brought inside in the summer) got to soak some sun bliss after breakfast.

 

When gloom and chill fill
skies and flesh and bones,
I rejoice in all the warmth
a sunny picture can hold.

12/23/2022: It’s raining cats and dogs and probably rabid raccoons. The sun hasn’t been out since the Winter Solstice, and I’m missing it. So, do send some sun-warmth my way (artificial light shining on my cactus corner just isn’t cutting it).

 

12/24/2022: In case the cold gets so deep into your bones that you start forgetting that spring is just a few months in the blooming (and yes, by “you” I also mean “me”). 🥶 …🌱

 

12/28/2022: Late last summer, while my flesh and bones and I were in a ridiculous amount of pain, my Piano Man got me a plant to cheer me up. It was the only plant with a lot of healthy-looking blooms and berries. The explosion of yellow blossoms and crimson berries made my day. The plant (St. John’s wort) bloomed all the way until the end of September. I pruned it and brought it into the house in October. Today, it has a single bloom that looks like a tiny sun bedecking my living room. I can’t look at it without grinning like the happiest of all lunatics. 😁

 

12/31/2022: My 2022 in one American Sentence. Now, to live (and write) 2023…

- for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #58: Reclaim, Rekindle, Rebirth.

Written on My Heart’s Skin

not-quite Journaling, 30

On a walk, with the wind frosting my cheeks in biting kisses, I think, There’s so much to mourn in winter—no blooms luring butterflies, no birds singing about love or nests, no frolicking under warm sheets made of moonlight and need, no bees buzz… Then my thoughts spill into a glimpse of daffodils springing through a snow shroud that makes me feel, there’s much to celebrate in winter.

2/15/2022

 

Your smile is written on my heart’s skin,
your voice tattooed inside my bones.

I’ve sculpted you eternal
into life and dream and ink…

With art and will, I remember you.

photo by K. Mitch Hodge on, Unsplash

2/16/2022: One of my dearest friends, who lost a loved one a year ago, told me how the loss still makes her burst into tears. I said to her, “The loss and pain never goes away. It changes, it even wanes from time to time… Then, you hear a song they loved, cook or taste food they loved, do something you loved doing together… and the pain tears your heart to bloodied pieces anew.” Still, anyone who has lost someone understands that this pain is the price we willingly pay to keep our dead alive (in memory).

 

Monstrous! some might think,
when they discover my love
for old bones and other dead things.

But not him… He notices the bright
natural dark spills into me, and he
turns skull collector to show his love

for me.

2/17/2022: my Piano Man found this beauty during a run. Instead of just picking it up and bringing it to me, he marked the place… and then took me back to it (he didn’t want me to miss Nature’s artful display). I’ll never forget the smile that bathed his face, when he presented the gift… or how wonderful it always feels to know that my love knows me.

- for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #14: Monster Madness!