"Dandelion"

  

 
 

A waif whispers incantations 

her breath pftts pftts 

against the blowball 

Tufts float free  

The seeds of beginnings   

Sacred blessings 

Cradled by Tranquility   

 

Copyright 2015 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

"Light and Shadow"

 

Pastel smudges draw my eyes to morning’s rise   

aligning the innocence and the essence   

of day’s promise with ease. Light dusts the trees   

with the purity of youth. Beams illume Truth   

in a precise reality that cannot be   

denied. Into the sunshine I dance sublime   

and naked in the summer’s heat. When I retreat   

to the coolness of shadows, a soft breeze blows   

across my glistening skin. I let Hope in   

wrapped in shadow and light—and all is right   

 Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“In The Morning”

In the morning

   before I open my eyes

      I listen for her breath
         for sounds of her movement
            for her voice calling

In the morning

   before the alarm’s irritating bleat

      I open my eyes to darkness
         seeing no soft light filtering from the kitchen

            hearing no sounds for preparing First Breakfast

In the morning

   before I leave the warmth of quilts

      I pull clichés onto my psyche
         covering up my doubts

            with comforting words and phrases

In the morning

   before I build my protective walls

      I grieve
         the endless day free of responsibilities saddens me
            and sorrowful hours loom ahead

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

           

“In My Skin”

            I disconnected over the last few weeks—from myself. I slipped into a survival mode of busy, busy, busy, busy that allowed me to step aside from thinking, but that also meant I sidestepped writing. I didn’t realize until yesterday that I skipped several days in a row in journaling. Ideas for my blog flitted into my view, but my attention never focused upon these thoughts long enough to do more than jot down a key word or phrase within the spiral where I often brainstorm. I didn’t even go online and pull out an old poem or personal narrative to nudge my blog along.

            I used the holidays and the clean up afterwards to keep my sadness away. There were places to go and people to see, and I avoided allowing myself time to be alone. I decided to go back to work, filled out an application to substitute teach in my old comfort zone, and actually attended the orientation this week. Yesterday, I found myself with another round of house keeping, today I will fill my hours with grocery shopping for the Celebration of Life we host for Mom on Saturday.

            I don’t doubt my motivations. If I sit before a blank page, I realize the great void my mother’s death has created in my life. I realize that I must rediscover who I am separate from wife, mother, sister, or daughter. For so many years, I defined myself by the care I gave for others. Now I must discern my role for this newest path of life. I have to determine my next steps and learn how to move around again in my skin.