A Hoarder of Knowledge

Photo credit: Jason Williard (1983-2016)

I think I might be a hoarder, not of stuff, but ideas, words, knowledge.

I once met a hoarder. At the time, I didn't know what to call it. I was working as a Director of Mortgage Lending for a large financial institution. If a person got far enough behind on their mortgage, we had to inspect their home.

Morning, time of awakening and appreciation

Every morning, I curl up on a big red overstuffed sofa and drink my morning latte'. I look out the window at the flowers and the trees beyond. These days this is my view through one of the bay windows. This morning a pair of hummingbirds were making their way through the garden. They've been here for a while now, enjoying the fruits of my labor. Their favorite flower is the crocosmia, the burst of red in the image.

Surrender to Grief

What happens when a life is filled with death
when the blanket of grief lays over our days
when the sun no longer shines
and the waters flow continuously

What happens when we surrender
sleep when sleep wants to come
quit trying to force it into a container
move when we want to move
stop the incessant need to produce

cease the endless struggle
slip slowly into slumber
sit silently in surrender
sing songs of celebration

Poetry
Grief, Death and Dying

Grief

Grief
the quiet
where there used to be conversation
the emptiness
where there used to be connection, communion
the shadows
of what used to be
it's all the quiet, empty shadows
that haunt me
that leave me wanting
sinking my shoulders
drawing forth tears
for what used to be

Poetry
Grief, Death and Dying

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