A full week without writing

A full week without writing.

Let me sit
and let the fact
drift into vision:

It is a prairie in June
dreamy with
spun-sugar
cottonwood
brushing cheeks
pedaling forward
laughing.
Unaware.

A full week without writing.
Let me sit
and let the fact
enter into body:

It is a communion wafer
dissolving
on warm tongue of veiled girl
its full moon
swallowed
bright and luminous
and haunting.
Tasteless.

A full week without writing.
Let me sit
and let the fact
fall into soul:

It is presence in seated meditation
with breath
deep and down and wide
released
deep and down and wide
released
thoughts passing by like clouds.
Dismissed.

boy at airport

My first-born-17-year-old child
is in flight
ripped away
from mother earth
and catapulted into
lower stratosphere
now 4,510 miles
beyond my view

I am a mother.
(I am his mother)
injected with pitocin
without my seeing the needle
and now this second knifing labor has come on
too fast, too hard.
Unexpected.

I cry.

My heart and center
stretching so wide,
then contracting back
resisting the tide
racing out, rushing in

It aches,
this letting go

Yet, I pray the labor to be long.

I am a mother
letting go
and loving still,
and letting go
and loving still
ever still.

A full week without writing,
May I be
such a week
many times over

3 thoughts on “A full week without writing

    1. Thank you so much, Peggy for reading and commenting. You understand, as a writer and fellow blogger, how good it feels to know someone has read your work. Thank you for taking time to offer a reflection back here, on my blog itself (not many people do). Much gratitude.

      Like

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