Thursday, September 30, 2010

9/30

Idle hands may get into trouble
But hands that never rest
Find little ease.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

9/29

To me it is not either old news or the only news, but while it is
The bold type headline in the paper of my life, I realize that's a
Subscription of one.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

9/28

This driving over roads past only brings me back to this house
This last place we would call home, to where I am now, still
Looking for guidance,

Looking for a plan, I am here, keeping you near me,
Coming to see home is ever where it was, within me
With your love.

So I will housekeep these days into accord
Looking for the time when I will know and can,
With resolve, move.

Monday, September 27, 2010

9/27

Driving, keep driving, driving over roads too far;
Moving, just moving, moving further in towards
Living ... living alone.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

9/26

The other Linda lent able helping hands, good ideas
and her sweet company, now this show looks good ... better,
Dinner with friends.

The concept, the paintings you saw and knew,
The last show of mine that you would know, I'll
Bring one beer.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

9/25

It has not been simple these last few days, thankfully
She is not hurt badly. But that I could help, when I
Couldn't help you?

Friday, September 24, 2010

9/24

Glad the EMT's, the docs and that hospital could
Help this young lady after her accident, even if she
Can't now housesit.

Very glad I did not need to go up after her and enter
There to take her out, just glad she is all right but I
Am just tired.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

9/23

Placed carefully in a far corner of a cupboard are
Notes of kindness written and packets of cards requiring
my words composed.

But I am stuck between a line of kind: thank-you's for
considerations given - yes; but thank-you's for my
Husband being dead?

Please, Dear, forgive me this failing as I can give gratitude
For our love, our life; but to separate this difference, can't
Cross that line.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

9/22

Wrestling grief is contending with loss,
A deep-rooted severing of the soul's delight,
Beyond becoming solitary.

Not friendless but no longer one sweet whole,
Bereft of a simple support. Can return to my house, but
Not my home.

Wrestling oneself through, where once alone was still
Filled with our love, now inching towards an equilibrium
With just self.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

9/21

This stuff happens, this pendulum swing of emotions,
riding me like some off-center grief machine, I need to heed a
wise woman's words:

Consider how gentle, caring your husband would be in any instant.
He is the friend of your longing, why not do the self-friend thing
by emulating him?

So this day I paint, thankful for friends who keep touch.
Mostly moving through quiet, sunshine and soft air, learning
To live alone.

Monday, September 20, 2010

9/20

I think widowhood needs tears because we no longer have touch
And our skin craves contact. So I drive hours crying quietly,
Gobsmacked by grief.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

9/19

Your touch still lingers in sympathy with my soul.
A soft press that did support, express the love
My body remembers.

Through a reservoir deep but maybe not unlimited,
I fear the drought pending, allows me now only
Tears for touch.

I believe tears are given to help us through
This time when we no longer have the touch
Our skin craves.


9/18

I can not believe it has been so many months,
So many nights sleeping without you
Next to me.

This is a new reality, a new path to trod,
I can not believe I must do this alone, only memory
To hold you near.

I go on, step by small step through wilderness wild
I go on working through the malaise, the sorrow
I go on

Saturday, September 18, 2010

9/17

I know you feel isolated, and encourage you to contemplate
Times and places that you have felt most fulfilled, outside the circle
Of you and Jack.

A friend's wise words, left on the desk these long months,
Only recently do I feel capable of contemplating past the sphere
Of we two.

Past the morass of loss, beyond the dreams we had,
To let them rest in a place held within, to sustain the drive
Of me alone.

Friday, September 17, 2010

9/16

In childhood, my mother's custom was to wildly wish
On trucks carrying hay, a tradition I did willingly endorse
Til last winter.

Along a turnpike this autumn morn, I pass a hay truck
Now in a moment amend the practice to consider only possible,
Now in widowhood

Thursday, September 16, 2010

9/15

A quiet day spent with my mother and her friend
Ordinary chores, simple meal of steamers and corn together,
A treasured day.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

9/14

The light, the air here brightens our steps,
Clear, welcoming, as we walk, talk, take pleasure in
Time spent together.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

9/13

Morning lights breakfast with a cherished heart
Evening dinner savory for a dear friend, sisters two, for me
An only daughter.

Monday, September 13, 2010

9/12

It was a beautiful day, a day for anything:
For gratefulness, for wonder, for a while
For loving you.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

9/11

Friends, family can give advice, share opinions,
Lend a shoulder but with my lover
I could really....

Now in midst of crisis, this seeming catatonia
Is not surrender, is not doing nothing, but is time.
Let's me think.

Faith may be a grain of mustard, may move mountains,
But time allows for thought, for faith to contemplate horizons
Before I move.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

9/10

Into a new start out of cold storage stride
Two lovely beings surrounded in warmth, in sweet
Strength of relations.

This day plenty contrasts with withered,
left to learn, to live, left with little
Ties of kin

Sometimes long journeys accent
How off track, how little ground
One has gained

Friday, September 10, 2010

9/9

Miss you as ever I have, mourning all we had,
Admitting the tremors through the topography
Of my life

Requires accepting a revolution of the soul
Beyond the bounty that measured our time
To territory isolated.

Our landscape will not change back, ever;
And history, by its nature, must change,
Has no choice.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

9/8

Rise early enough to enjoy an hour or two
Company and conversation before leaving,
Last minute errands.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

9/7

A friend and sunset arrive together,
Each possessed of exquisite light, we
Paint the evening's radiance.

Monday, September 6, 2010

9/6

On this quiet day, a kindness done for myself is taking time,
Time for space to be by myself, unfilled of busyness, of traveling,
Even, of people.

Not easy, missing the company my Dear gave; lost those days
Of being engaged neatly, of times seeing little of each 'til late, of
being near - enough.

So, how will just being me,
Who was once well loved, come
To be enough?

Sunday, September 5, 2010

9/5

The soft movement of riding a good horse still is sweet,
As is reading the wisdom from the Sabbath's book,
Both give comfort.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

9/4

These days I try to keep the horizon a bit closer.
Just keeping well the next few hours is hard, so keeping
In mind, minutes.

Friday, September 3, 2010

9/3

A day spent honing an endeavor you so helped,
Immersed in the particulars, in painting, in writing,
In being alone.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

9/2

Horses move through the paddocks, rustling along
Snorting softly under a rainy night sky
amid quiet winds.

Kept in place by threats of adverse weather, this time
Of learning a life beyond vulnerable to grief, to loneliness
to a life stable.

This hurricane calmed to gentle rains allows a day
Steadying this soul, deep scarred by a searing season
Of unforgiving storms.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

9/1

From Some Can Whistle by Larry McMurty:

The rules of happiness are as strict as the rules of sorrow;
Indeed, perhaps more strict. The two states have different densities.
I've come to think.

The lives of happy people are dense with their own doings -
Crowded, active, thick - urban,
I would almost say.

But the sorrowing are nomads, on a plain with few landmarks
And no boundaries; sorrows horizons are vague and
Its demands few.

Jeanie and I had not become strangers;
It was just that she lived in the city and
I lived on the plain.