The Same Song (Sonnet)

I look at you and see a helpless smile;
my pain is yours, we share each piercing wound
that bleeds and weeps and shocks us from denial.
The fear is real and shouts but without sound,
it s volume rising till we can’t be heard.
We feel a shaking of the earth beneath
and while most days we will not be deterred,
emotions are awash with silent grief.
But each day sees us here and still we breathe;
our gratitude for life together soars.
Your painful smile diminishes and we’ve
come through another day with hope for more.
And though life’s tough and sometimes we will rage
We sing our song together from one page

Advertisements

And Now For Something Completely Different

This post is different!  I am “Feel(ing) the Fear and Do(ing) It Anyway”  (Susan Jeffers). Someone in the blogging world who I now consider a friend and who is a very talented writer, suggested I might like to try interspersing my poetry with an attempt at prose.  Well, my usual response to anything new and scary is to push it under that huge metaphoric carpet , and so I tried;  it didn’t work.  It was  stuck, like a little feather that has escaped from a cushion and wont  let itself be released from your hand.  So here I am giving it a go. I have just been reading a book called “Thaw” by Satya Robyn and it is in the form of a journal, so I thought this may be a gentle way to ease my way into the feel of prose.  Don’t panic! I wont bore you with new entries every week, just the occasional one if I feel inclined and brave.  If you haven’t got time to read all this post, as I am aware it is rather lengthy,  please don’t worry, I wont be offended or take my bat home – or maybe I will, but that’s my problem.

Journal  Day 1 – 17th June  2013

I have decided to start writing a journal. We shall see how far I get. I have never been successful for more than about a month.

 I thought today would be as good a day as any,  mainly because I feel I have something worth writing down, although I guess everything is worth writing down, simply because it is writing, as  Ive heard this is very good for us,  just to write, I mean, to write anything.

Something happened today and it made me smile. I was getting ready to go to physio for my MS. Why do I call it “my MS”? I suppose it doesn’t belong to anyone else so it must be mine, though  I don’t actually  want to own it. But if I  don’t, then does that imply I’m in denial? I’m not; I was for a while, but now I have decided to “embrace” it. That’s the word that gets bandied around, so I have decided to jump aboard that particular band-wagon and celebrate it all. Well, not actually celebrate but embrace; that’s  a good word. Now, where  was I? Oh yes, this thing that happened.

I was coming downstairs trying to carry too much. If it’s soft stuff I just throw it from top to bottom and pick it up when I arrive at the last step (this can be a very satisfying feeling by the way, a bit childlike,  just throwing for the sake of it, so I suppose you could call it an MS perk, sort of), but this was my phone, so not a good idea to throw. I was carrying far too much and got myself into a bit of a state.  I’m always doing this; I never seem to learn. Actually I have just this minute had an idea, a good one too. What I need to do is keep a bag, say a shopping bag or similar, upstairs,  and when I  need to carry a few things, simply put them all in the bag and hey presto, only one thing to carry, which can be hooked over an arm. What a brilliant idea!  Except I would need to remember to take it back up again on a future trip.  I think maybe I could do this,  with some rigorous training.

Anyway,  among all the kerfuffle, I couldn’t see my phone so I decided to ring it from the land line. I went upstairs first, as I thought I must have left it up there by mistake. Standing on the landing I rang my  number.  And then – I started to ring! No, it’s not a typing error, I actually mean I started to, not it. I actually began ringing! And I lit up too!  I honestly couldn’t work it out;  it was ridiculous! And it was then I realised the  phone was tucked cosily inside my bra and had become so settled and content that I had forgotten all about it!   I dont make a habit of storing things inside my bra; it made me smile. I think I may actually be going loopy. I’m glad I discovered all this before the physio appointment was underway…

I do so wish I didn’t have MS, but that’s  for another day, although I just want to say that I am quite aware its a pointless wish, but then I can do pointless wishing very well.
I carry on a daily struggle trying to make sense of it. All I know is that as long as I am here I need to make the best of my life because, like it or not, and mostly I do, I am part of this strange and  wonderful world and I believe I still have something to give.

The physio was good today, and I am to begin another  block of sessions in August to start working  on my weak hand and knee.  “Use it or  lose it”.

I have just delved into my box of angel cards; I’m not really an angel fan but I quite like the daily discipline these give me. Today’s card says “Surrender”…

More soon – maybe.

All Will Be Well

All shall be well
and all shall be well
and all manner of things
shall be well
Julian of Norwich

All Will Be Well

I’m not sure where my head was
when I bought the books,
recipes to die for, illustrated,
when even a spoon can argue
its way out of grip.

I think there was a quiver of loss,
last-ditch attempt to hold on,
ache of desire and grief for what was;
sore fingers grappling rock
before the fall.

But wanting leads us down a path
of sufferance,  starves the spirit,
sucks it dry.
Time to let go, embrace a
new normal, accept what is,
here in the moment;
an exposition, prelude to the next phase,
knowing that

wind will still blow secrets to the birds,
sun tease with games of hide and seek.
Rain will still fall soft on arid soil
or pelt like Tungsten darts,
and night stay true to promise of the day,
dewy grass to loosen rooted fears,
new breath,
a hint of trust.

Stubbornly Determined

Stubbornly Determined

I need to stay in charge,

for a while longer at least.

I am not ready to pour myself

into a pair of soft, easy trousers,

delicious promise of comfy

waistband (broad, of course),

nice and high, to contain

escaping ripples;

so I continue to dress

horizontally, edging reluctant

jeans till they nestle irritatingly

on complaining, incredulous hips.

And if the early morning air is

tinged with a little colour as I

wrestle a mocking button and

zip, then so be it – as long as the

comfy waistband is waiting in the

wings, all will be well.

Surrender

Today is the 10th anniversary
in my recovery from alcoholism.

Surrender

I became a street actor
on stilts, to see over
walls erected by
years of despair.

I would strut clumsily,
attempting to dance to
whoever played the
loudest tune,
juggle frantically
with balls of denial,
resentment,  guilt
and fear, until

quite unexpectedly
the stilts cracked,
broke and forced me
to the ground,
avalanche of
bittersweet pain,
post-war grit
lining my mouth.

Tentative clusters of
hope shining through,
unyielding walls now
crumbling painfully
around me, I knew
the journey had begun;
I thank God
the performance is over.

Wendy L. Macdonald

My faith is not shallow because I've been rescued from the deep.

Pitching Pennies Poetry

the work of smzang

Grit Flow

courage, resolution, strength of character

Veggiewitch

Manifesting abundance & sharing my truth

The Fat Damsel

Poems To Survive In

roughwighting

Life in a flash - a weekly writing blog

Some Good Things

Musings of an explorer...

Poet's Corner

Poems, poets, poetry, writing, poetry challenges

Seasonings

Just a little poetry...

Traces of the Soul

Whispering insights of this, that, then and there

Gramma Krackers

Words of the Wise Krackers

dVerse

Poets Pub

leaf and twig

where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry

Connecting Beyond

Beyond The Known

Awakened Words

Poetry and Other Ramblings