Tell Me

Tell me... how you came to be,

my friend, floating like a feather

traversing the sky and hovering

right here in front of me.

Tell me... what kind of trick is that?

I remember you from that first decade

urging me to pirouette

wearing my favorite blue dress.

Yes, you did. You made me laugh,

comforted me when lonely.

You banished Mr. Alligator

from under my bed.

Tell me... how you

made the stars tell their secrets

and helped the snow maiden find me

that time I fevered.

You don't have to tell me

how you faded from my dreams

like the faeries in the breeze.

I know why you disappeared.

when I'd forgotten your existence.

Tell me... my old friend, why

you are here again.

Is this my second childhood?

You Want Me...

You want me to what?


Lie here?

That’s all?

No phone calls or emails?

No errands or chores?

No work or list of things to do?

Are you sure?

You just want me to

lie here on this blanket?

With that gift of a cool breeze

blowing in from the ocean?

And the sun sneaking through the branches

to dance across my skin?

You just want me to lie here?

And not do anything?

Seriously?

~~~~~~~

Many thanks to Jen Payne for her permission to re-publish her poem here.

You can find Jen at

http://randomactsofwriting.wordpress.com/

and be sure to check out her other sites as listed under her "Links".

TRANSMUTATION

Mulling over the sands of time
one hand gently drops over the other.
Yielding now, the grains fall
like liquid velvet.

Melted beyond measure,
like fur petted softly,
there is no way to capture
the pre-existent creature
rubbing against cosmic filaments
of fine quartz and fossil.

Wherever they rest,
whether bathed in light,
or basted in heat,
or moistened by sea foam,
the ever-changing changlessness
dips and rolls and intermingles,
softening ever so patiently,
through eons of time.

Imperceptibly blessing itself
into finer and finer particles,

the sparkling dust
is carried away on the air,
lifted into the continuing cycles of nature.

So thoroughly embodied
with the breath of the sky father,
the clouds welcome
the new ones into their folds
and expand with the weight.

New energies,
stronger than before,
ready to come forth.
floating within sunset hues,
passive... waiting for dusk
to overtake the day
and put to sleep the overactive world;
like hidden thoughts,
they give birth to new dreams.

For Genealogy Purposes

1949 February 1

This letter is from Flora Waite’s half sister written to Flora’s daughter, Hazel Dean English

Dear Hazel,

Was so glad to hear from you. My hand is rather shaky, But will try and write you a few lines. You ask me my age. If I live til the 28th of next month I  will be 84, so you see I am not young any more. I hope you can come and see me if you make thee trip you spoke about next summer.

My hearing is good, can see pretty good, so I have no reason to complaine. But my hands are pretty crippled and a good many aches and pains all over my body. I am afraid I can’t help out much with thee family names. My Fathers name and of course would be your mother’s father was Levi Waite. Your Mothers mother died when your mother must have been quite young. Your mother had 2 sisters older than she was. I don’t  know her mothers name. Then my Father married again. My Grandfathers name was Aidin Waite, But I can’t remember my Grandmother Waite’s name as she died when I was quite young. Your Father & Mother came to visit us quite often when I was a young girl and before I was married I spent several weeks two different times with them. I can’t remember just thee number of kiddies they had then.

I hope to hear from you again and sure hop to see you & your husband this summer. I know we would have a good visit. Clyde & Edith would like to meet you.

Love to you & your family
Aunt Florence Hoyt

Louise Waite Brown (mother’s sister)
Clyde & Edythe
Children of Aunt Florence
Lived in Erie, PA

AUNTIE ANGST

She stood in the grove 
emptying her heart
into the darkness,
crying out to the trees.

Oh, hear me! Help me!
I am your little child,
a crone before my time.
My youth has been stolen from me
betrayed by the revolutions of the earth
My heart beats only acid through my veins.
like cities choked with carbon dioxide.
I am the desolated forests of the summer fires.
Nothing left but ashes.

Yet, the crone limps away
beneath the moon, tottering...
the pain of over-ripe decline
prematurely stabs
like some ancient soldier
hacking at the enemy
with a heavy sword.
She sits, quietly breathing,
ignoring the pain with resolve.

I smile... talk... laugh with others
and no one knows what is gnawing
like some unseen dragon
crunching my bones.
The physical pain is bearable,
even the searing fire in my veins.
But the pain in my outraged spirit
is wailing and ranting across the galaxies
as it hurls itself further out into the cosmos
searching for peace 
and a shred of hope.

~~~~~

Digital art and poem by Elizabeth Munroz