BLOG OF THE WEEK - DAILY SPIRIT

Ha! Since there are quite a few of us crones around, I really resonated with a poem written recently  by our friend Myrna Rosa. Myrna writes at Daily Spirit - Musings to Nourish the Soul. And then she followed it up with another stunning offering, so I knew it was time for a Blog of the Week. Myrna lives in the beautiful desert landscape of New Mexico.

THE MODERN DAY CRONE

She was a mix

of desires, cloudy thoughts

questions spoken, some unexpressed

feelings trapped in her heart, 

its beat a rapid thud.

Life, a running target she chased.

It varied, at times a camouflage of happiness,

then stark truth of pain, 

when she clenched 

to what she was forced to let go.

She's more relaxed now.

Wonders if youth ever really did believe

that age and wisdom are synonymous.

Not true. 

She still doesn't know what she doesn't know.

Truth is she still wants to be visible, heard.

to laugh, cry, sing, dance,

dive into air in spite of the bumpy landing,

feel like she's five and ready

for that proverbial ride

that needs only love to increase

not velocity but volume,

the capacity to recognize happiness

then uncloak it, hug it naked, raw to its essence.

All this, before the end of the turbulence.

***   ***

Isn't that just it, kids? I love it. And, Myrna, you are still seen and heard, by all of us. This poem was swiftly followed by another, Becoming Real, which just knocked me out. Here it is:

BECOMING REAL

Birthday's coming up.

I pretend not to care, but alone

I see my life imprinted everywhere

on my body, falling, a burnt out star.

"I'm not afraid of death," I lie to myself

remembering past, when I thought

I was too small, frail, terrified

to have strength required for child birth.

Yet, somehow I did. 

Nature's lessons are experiential.

So, I'll learn to die,

the way I learned to live.

I believe in simplicity.

But I don't live it.

My house full of stuff. 

My mind full of complexities.

My thoughts worry for this world,

then contradict with hope for its survival.

I try to be the peace, 

but am aware of others' suffering,

and I wonder

if all the evils I see,

exist somewhere in me.

Some things I don't simply believe,

I know

about love, compassion,

more than I used to.

I savor life.

It tastes different now, less spicy

but so flavorful. Most days sprinkled,

not with sugar, but with sparkling water clarifying

what's Real

in me.

Wow. I love "I'll learn to die the way I learned to live," and the water, "clarifying what's Real in me." This is a powerful knowing, Myrna.

I asked Myrna when she began writing poetry, and this is what she told me: "I started writing mid September, 2010.  Wow, glad you made me look this up.  I posted something in which I talked about wishing I were a poet.  Brian Miller (dVerse Poets), commented that I should just give it a try, that I had the heart of a poet.  Previously, I had written rhyme, which I disqualified as poetry and am in the process of editing - for a children's/adult little book.  Anyway, I accepted his challenge and started writing.

"Following is my 3rd poem for you, written on April 17, 2012 (after my mother died):"

GRIEF

I watch my dogs at the end

of the day. Oblivious,

they play

not knowing you left.

Tired, I wait

for the sun

to go too,

as flashes of you

stream in final sigh

of fluid embrace.

And I sense the sounds

of colors clashing,

forming something new.

What strange transition,

vacuum packed awareness -

you are - absent

in the setting sun's

darkening hues.

Then, I watch

the dogs sleep, knowing

they'll play again

tomorrow.

So beautiful - and comforting. Thank heaven for dogs! And thank you, fellow poet,  for your faithful participation and presence at Poets United through the years. It is a pleasure to have you in our community, with your good heart and crone wisdom.

Do come back, kids, to see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!