Being Tender With Myself

Taking my time
Allowing the tears
Not pushing too hard
Simple walks outside
no big agenda
simply being present
Watching out the window
still or windy
birds flying by
clouds floating 
or filling the sky
taking it all in
Taking forward steps
but small gentle ones
no guilt included
Surrendering to what I need
right here, right now
a handful of chocolate chips
a glass of wine
asking to be held
letting the tears slip out
snuggled in a big blanket

Poetry
Wild Heart
Grief, Death and Dying

Showing Up

I feel suspended in time. I am dealing with my Mom’s estate and I continue to take stock of her life. She told me in the year before her death she was a social misfit; she had no social grace. Funny thing is that is what I noticed my whole life. My mom was loud and boisterous. She laughed, loud, at jokes. She went about her life doing what she did, insisting others help her on her time, being the center of her own life. As a child, I found it embarrassing. 

Home

Home
in my husband's arms
curled against his back
holding his hand
my anchor 
Home
curled up on the sofa
wrapped in a warm blanket 
glass of wine nearby
Home
time with my daughter
laughing and sharing our lives
the connection
that spans the miles
Home
door closed
my personal space
sinking into my deepest self
allowing words to flow
Home
used to be talking with my mom
plotting garden ideas
or discussing family and life
that piece is fluttering

Poetry
Wild Heart

For the Woman I Never Knew

You wore colors, 
oh so many colors
You wove a connecting thread
through scattered bits of family
binding us all into one
You gave of your time, talent and dollars
to help those less fortunate
and support your community
You were strong and independent
and maybe a bit stubborn
and once you made a choice
you saw it through no matter the cost
You quietly built a life
anyone could be proud of
and in the end, you left 
a legacy of love and wisdom
For me, you were just mom

Poetry
Grief, Death and Dying

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