Friday, November 25, 2016

a new book

fiddling with the end of her braid
slight smile
quick flip of the page
A new book.

(Found this poem while cleaning up some old notebooks. Thought I'd try to push myself to take more poetry breaks.)

Sunday, November 20, 2016

water and mind

I walk to exercise my body and to clear my mind. Were I to list out all the things to be thankful for, that my neighborhood walk brings me past this lake would be high up on it.

The sky around this lake holds the most amazing light. The water is tranquilly still or chaotically wind-blown, seeming to mirror my emotions, or acting on them.

Today, as I walk, I am thankful.

acting through mourning

I have given myself some time to mourn. Knowing the nature of grief and the cyclical nature of mourning, I know I am not through, may never be through, mourning this loss of faith in my country, I am, nevertheless, ready to begin action.

The leaders I admire most have acted for good in the midst of so much bad; they attempt to embody the world they want to see and so nudge - or drag - the world along with them.

I see a world that acts like a family, sitting together in a feast of Thanksgiving to honor the gifts of this world even though we disagree on how to use those gifts. A world that respects the rights of each member to live happily, even while we advocate for a different way. I want to be in a family that listens to each other with an ear for understanding, not waiting for a foible to pounce on.

And so, that is my first action.

Sunday, November 13, 2016

who's road is it?

On my walk the other day I stepped over this sidewalk scribble, not quite finished. Perhaps the graphic artist was called in for lunch or nap time. The words filled the road at an intersection in the back of the neighborhood, almost at the end of a dead end, where the right turn leads to a gravel road. You would think this spot hardly needed a reminder for people to obey the rule to stop at an intersection. But these kids thought it did. 
That right turn leads to a popular public beach on the edge of our little lake, beside which is a fabulously accessible playground. It's also the route to the outside world for people who live in the little houses along these black roads. So, despite the many wobbly kids on bikes, baby carriages, dogs at the end of leashes, and gangs of oblivious teenagers in the middle of the road, people take this corner as if there is nothing in their way. But three out of the four houses on this corner are packed full of young kids, ranging in age from toddler to tween, who use the road, as kids are meant to, as their kickball field and skateboard park, to sell lemonade and create art.
This is their road. They can claim ownership more than any of us taxpaying visitors. And they need us to stop.