Swing In A Tree

Thursday, April 9, 2020

"Death"

She silently slipped into my room

bringing night’s enveloping velvet blackness

in her sunken eyes and raven hair

Her hands reached out for mine

coaxing me to dance with her

along that icy rim of eternity

My head felt heavy upon my pillow

My arms and legs merged into my bed

immobile and leaden

Her breath poisoned the air

seeping into my lungs with molten heat

chilling my blood into a sluggish, frozen river

I turned my eyes away

staring fixedly into myself

Yet she was there

Empty and hollow

a void—nothing

and I moved toward her

even as I moved away

she whispered words I could not hear

and yet I did her bidding

sobbing for days

Until my eyes ached red and dry

and my heart bled into

itself

wracking my body with unreal pain

no one but she understood

I fought to escape

turning to flee

with nowhere to go

She stood before me, beside me, behind me

within me

Then I heard

faint and distant

a trill of laughter

bubbling and rippling through the starless night

an intermingling of voices

high and low—calling my name

giving me direction

away, away

I pulled myself away from her deathly dance

Yanked myself out of her clutching grasp

moved toward the golden sounds

of love and light

She followed me

she stayed with me

now and forever

I sense her presence

know the sound of her footfall

instinctively sniff the air for her scent

careful and cautious

She still wants me

her pull and determination both suck me into her orbit

and repel me with horror

But those voices of laughter

with the eyes of sunlight

and smiling mouths of delight

carry a stronger current

They always rescue me

Take me where she cannot reach me

protect me for a little while

. . . love me

Wednesday, April 8, 2020

"Future"

We walk through nightmares of the past,

living an existence of future fears.

Desperately struggling among the mountainous

crags of pre-fabricated foods and chemically made beer cans,

our test tube babies weep with bitter need,

as automated mothers

rock rhythmically back and forth.

No one saw today as it was to be.

We run through our own living hell,

Never feeling, desiring, or loving.

Mirrors are no longer needed,

nor are youthful photographs taken—

for images of ourselves are seen scrambling

among the barren garbage dumps

searching for rustic vestiges of yesterday—

an identity.

No one saw today as it was to be.

We trudge through old decaying minds,

trying to forget our own impotence.

Whimpering trepidations never cease,

for like howling canines long starved for passion,

the souls of society disintegrated

into a pile of biological residue.

And no one say today as it was to be.

Sunday, April 5, 2020

“The Enemy Without”

my bliss

begins with rusted rake, scarred shovel

continues with ancient clippers that snap winter’s residue

pulses with knees planted to ground

thrives with bulbs separated, clippings rooted

grows with tipsy walls reset with careful hands

pushes skyward with dew dusted blades

my bliss

conquers the enemy without with patience

soothes with dappled sunlight

transforms death with restoration

mornings blend into afternoons

days meld into weeks

Friday, April 3, 2020

My brother, a custodial worker at a hospital, falls into the “essential worker” category. He earns less than a livable wage. He reports to work during natural disasters almost annually as he lives in the Houston area. He will continue to work through the COVID-19 epidemic until he gets sick. I worry that he may die if that happens.

My nephew works at one of Texas’s largest grocery chains, HEB. His salary, also, doesn’t come anywhere what it should for him to report for work during an epidemic of this scope. Of course, he’s there extra hours so the rest of us can have the supplies we need to stay home. That means he’s exposed through every person who walks into the store.

Every one of us has friends or family members who continue to work because of their essential occupations. For me, it’s important to give these people as much of an edge as possible. If they must be exposed to carriers of COVID-19, let it be in as controlled and limited way as possible.

If you follow directives and stay home, you limit your contracts to only a few people on a daily basis. If you are the designated shopper, restricting the people you see means that you help limit the number of contacts my family members come into contact with, too.

If you have a governor that’s not issuing sensible and safe guidelines that don’t have an economic drive (like suggesting our elderly should be willing to die to keep the economy going for this next generation), look to the states harder hit by COVID-19 and follow those guidelines.

If you have a mercenary minister who continues to push you into church services, find another church. For years many of my religious friends have claimed that their beliefs aren’t attached to a building—that they can pray and worship at any place and time. Now’s the time to prove it!

Stay safe for your family and stay safe for mine.

Thursday, April 2, 2020

"My New Normal"

Sheltering through this biological storm shifts our days into an unexpectedly slower pace. My husband, who works remotely, sets the alarm for 6:30 to give him time to shuffle into the kitchen for a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and to check his email. He commented yesterday that he probably needs to nudge the alarm to an even later start. Always an early riser, last week I allowed myself to sleep until nine-ish before setting my daily agenda, which consisted of reading and yard work followed by a movie or a couple episodes of a random TV show. Because I felt this sluggish start set the tone of my day too move too slowly, this week I’m matching my husband’s hours.

Live Oak leaves abound!

Yard work keeps me busy

My husband’s company put employees onto remote work on March 12^th. As my spring break drew to an end, I decided not to return to work. My Facebook feed displayed vacationing friends, and as I’d been following COVID-19 and its progress since the beginning of January, I knew returning to work as a substitute teacher after co-workers and students had traveled throughout the US was stupid. The minimum wage pay wouldn’t come near to covering any medical expenses of a prolonged ICU stay. Of course, the school district decided to extend the break for another week. That turned into several more weeks closed. Finally, our governor declared the schools cannot open prior to May 4^th.

As I have worked at some kind of job since I was 16, this unanticipated break forces me to reassess why I work so many days. Originally, grief drove me to fill my days while some financial draws added to my need to work. However, my part-time work morphed into working five days a week and lasted for seven years! Then this past fall, several friends battled severe illnesses. One died unexpectedly. A bout of bronchitis impaled me onto my bed for a couple of weeks with a lingering cough and some fatigue that pushed me to cut back my work days to part-time instead of a full five day week.

Maybe Life wants me to finally retire.