Assessing the Damage

Today’s poetry prompt is to write about damage.  I have let it go until very late, and I am feeling a little under the weather, so it’s going to be a quick-ish thing:

The week after the whirling winds
twisted the house like toys and tossed
them in pieces all around someone’s neighborhood,
scattering debris across the cornfields
like some strange new crop,
we drove out to see the scene,
to assess the damage.

Numbly, the people were picking
through the wreckage of their lives,
holding out their hopes for one family photo,
one undamaged antique china cup
left untouched by the capricious winds.

Just so, when the winds have torn through a life,
we need to witness, to wander through the scene,
grasping what we can salvage with both hands
and holding the scraps and mementos
against our still-beating hearts.

If some day, one of us sees the other one
holding the shards of a dream
or the sodden mess of a hope,
let’s plan (now) that we will step
from the safe vantage point of ourselves
and help each other search
for that one thing that remains whole.

 

Gratitude List:
1.  Third Quarter Grades are complete and submitted!
2. I am so glad that I chose to submit work for the Spoken Word Festival again this year.  I love to soak up the energy of poets and wordsmiths.
3. The life of my Uncle Paul, who made his crossing this morning.  The grieving and letting go has been a long, long journey.  I will remember his delight in light and art and photography.  Prayers of blessings and comfort to his family.
4. The willows have begun to put on their lacy veils.  The maples in the woods are all over in red buds.
5. Wind flowers.  The anemone have risen to take the place of the crocus.

May we walk in Beauty!

Departure

Today’s prompt is departure.  This poem feels darker, more fatalistic, than I think I feel.  Last week, my husband mentioned that our eldest child, almost 9, is halfway through his childhood.  I think that shadowed this poem.  Still, while I don’t think the emotional tone is entirely accurate for my own state, it feels “true” at some level.

There is an art to the departure,
a craft to the act of letting go,
of settling your heart.
It’s an art.

Where do we start the grieving,
the leaving and unleaving,
separating this from that part?
Where do we start?

But when you burn it down
to its essentials, it’s all about
preparing for departure
in the end.

Perhaps you can extend
small blisses and delights,
the moments in the middle,
when you’ve lit
the brightest lights, the candles,
flames of memory,
names written on your heart.

Still, all is moving toward the ending,
veering ever to a newer,
fresher destination
where other lights will glimmer,
illuminate new memories,
new pathways, new strivings.

Departure is inevitable,
but so is arrival.

 

Gratitude List:
1. Grandma Weaver’s spinach balls
2. Hay rides (Joss and I rode the hay wagon at Flinchbaugh’s 4 times today!)
3. Wind flowers and speedwell
4. Sleeping in
5. People who keep me accountable to doing the inner work.

May we walk in Beauty!