Monthly Archives: October 2009

Selecting this card from the deck gave me pause for thought for I haven’t written poetry for years, and then it was usually romantically inclined lamenting broken promises and a broken heart.  This past weekend, my sister and I discovered some of our mother’s poetry, penned in her young teenage cursive, still impeccable, and it was so strange to read of her tortured heart written while dating our birth father, when she was about 19 years old.  Young love, that eventually did not last, but lasted long enough to allow my sister and me to enter this world.  Poetry is often called a window to the soul and reading between the lines, or between the words, as in the title of my blog, gives insight and a private glimpse through that window.  The card is “rhyme” but my thoughts are not playful tonight and the poetry I am inspired to write does not rhyme.

The Battle

The ammunition is sent on paper,

or more often through fiber optic cables

traveling at lightening speed

delivering unwanted messages

that leave gaping wounds.

New ideas spring forth like bandages

offering temporary relief and the

thought that now everything has a chance

of being alright.

But not really.

Because the troops are merely realigning

readying their instruments of war

to mount another attack,

leaving us weaker and suffering wounds

that perhaps are too severe for bandages, stitches or

other medical attention.

Eventually the battle will be won or lost,

but either way, the scars remain

and the exhaustion commands us to

rest.

The Yiddish translation of this phrase is to “rub your bottom on the chair.”  In other words, sit still.  We are often so busy running from place to place, activity to activity, responsibility to responsibility, that we do not allow ourselves the opportunity to just sit and think, or simply just to sit.  I have my lovely writing desk inherited from my mother, and writing there has been an inspiration, but sometimes, sitting in the comfortable living room chair with my feet resting on the matching ottoman, is just what I need.  I have had these three pieces of furniture (the chair, ottoman and side table) for years but just this past month decided to create a space by adding a tall lamp, providing the light I needed to read and write and now the side table is littered with pens and small pads of paper for my seemingly endless notes to myself about ideas and of course the requisite pile of books I am reading.  I sit in this cozy spot and ideas flow into my mind and out my fingertips.  My dog Charlie laying at my side, his steady, rhythmic breathing welcome company and I could spend the day here and having chosen this card, Ribe Tuchus, from The Observation Deck bidding me to spend an hour sitting, writing the task does not seem difficult.  I wish I had hours to sit in this spot.

Sitting still is similar to breathing, for in the yoga sense, returning to the breath, finding stillness and quieting the mind so that the inspiration will come, the peace will come, the answers will come is a gift and the essence of being.

Dedicating work to someone else can give meaning to the work and motivation to the writer by providing answers to the questions:  Whom am I talking to when I write and whom do I want to read my writing?  Today I dedicate my writing to those needing a push, as I do, to be the catalyst, to make things happen and to stay above ground.  There is a saying about letting things fall through the cracks in life, we say it in education as in, “We don’t want any student to fall through the cracks,” and we say it about responsibilities as in, “Don’t let those bills fall through the cracks,” however, lately I prefer to think of pushing up through the cracks and when I saw this stubborn little plant in my driveway, pushing through a crack, beating the odds and surviving, beginning to thrive, I considered it a sign of hope.  Hope that we too can push through our cracks and rise up and thrive.

Battling for nearly a year with those involved in the loan modification of our home, some supporters and others malicious with ulterior motives, waiting, stalling and doing their utmost to postpone long enough to make any workout impossible, has brought out the fighting spirit in me.  I can be smarter, craftier and more determined than they are, like my little plant mascot, I can push up through the deep crevice that has been the past year and a half of my life; hold my stem up tall and spread out my leaves to the waiting sun.  I have plenty of drive, ambition, effort and vision and I can picture what I desire, create a visual, and believe in what is good and right.  Unfortunately, that is not a guarantee for there are those out there that rely on formulas that are not inclusive of human lives and have no belief in karma, what is right, or making the world a more positive, better place.

Like the little plant, that awaits the possibility that some giant will mistake it for a weed and yank it out, or look past it and step on it or refuse to notice it at all, I am at the mercy of a bigger giant which daily tramples on others more frail than itself, flaunting its ability to make judgments that ultimately determine survival or demise.