The world is in dire need For positivity. Not to sugarcoat reality Or spiritually bypass the lessons Inherent therein. But we all need to feel uplifted So we have the inner resources to Create the change, Create the world We want to live in, To play an active role And not that of the innocent bystander Or victim of circumstance. We matter And we are enough Exactly as we are. If we show up for ourselves, Prioritize our own wellbeing, We lift each other up too.
Cinnamon
The fragrant cinnamon
sprinkled on my oatmeal
Fills my nostrils
Signaling the start of my day.
I break the fast
And gratefully accept
The flavors of blueberry, apple, and walnuts.
It is but a few minutes
Of quiet nourishment.
And I try not to get lost in thought
Of have-to’s and time constraints.
Each morning is like this.
A brief moment to savor
Before the mad rush of
Getting the kids ready for school
And my morning commute to work.
All is still
Just in this moment.
The floating fragrant cinnamon oatmeal
Fulfills and fuels me.
For I know not what today brings.
But for now,
Just in this moment,
I am nourished and whole.
[ Listen to this poem read by my friend Jess on her podcast The Pawtuxet General: https://www.pawtuxetgeneral.com/1885927/11432327-the-pawtuxet-general-episode-42 ]
In Winter we take it Inside
Nature is asleep. The barren trees A stark contrast Against the sky. What once blossomed A forgotten memory. What was jubilant And alive Now quiet, small and dark. I take the cue and Bring it inside. Even in winter I wish to bloom To continue to grow In mind and spirit To stay connected And tap into my inner And outer strength. The plant on my window sill Finds warmth and nourishment. The bird’s wing takes flight In search for what I know not. Its determined flight Beats into the sky. There is no respite When on the hunt. We hunt for Warmth and shelter. We hunt for understanding And being truly listened to And seen. We seek counsel And acceptance. In winter we take it inside. The nature of the season Demands it. And I take the cue and bloom.
What are you a YES for?
I am a YES for Ease Joyful movement Creative momentum Sharing my creative gifts Finding creative pockets of time and space Carving out time with my husband, Our loving connection, And supportive relationship. I’m a YES for Quiet, reflective mornings And peaceful evenings Ending in gratitude. I’m a YES for Inspiration and insights, Connecting to my inner wisdom, Nature, immersed in the Beauty of the outdoors. I’m a YES for Playtime, Deeply listening and loving the kids Being nourished and providing them Nourishment and safety in mind and body. I’m a YES for Acceptance The cycles of the moon and seasons Rest, love, and family Celebrating the wins And feeling good. I’m a YES for Fostering, maintaining And making new friendships. What are you a YES for?
FAITH
I circle around the sun Even though physically I have stayed and slept Within the same walls. It may appear to all my senses That I embody the same place Time and again. However, the sky tells a different story. In winter, the sun rises a bit more To the right in the eastern sky. Yes, daylight is short. But the minutes of sunshine Tack on to the days Even if I’m not paying attention. The world is quiet now. There is less bird song. Yet if I get quiet And listen, I can hear what the winter bird sings. I circle around the sun And have faith that Day will return After a long wintery night. I have faith that the season will change As it always does And is meant to. Further evidence that the journey Around the sun is Always in motion Never stagnant Never ceasing to surprise And delight. The momentum forward Is not always linear. But I have faith That I play a part In the great bird song today And the song that is not yet sung But is written on a paper airplane Caught in a breeze On its way To be heard and sung.
HANDS
My hands, oh, marvelous hands They are more than an instrument For survival and instinct. They hold what is dear. Protect and grasp. They lovingly clasp hands Overlapping the fingers of another Like a zipper All knit and closed up. They carry more than their weight And sometimes I burden them as I try to hold more than is manageable. They are in tune with the seasons Even when my head and thoughts are not. They reflect time and age. There is no denying the changing Shape and texture over the years. They hold my pen and Create shapes that move Across the page. They allow me to type and Send my stories across The globe. And with a click of a button, My hands reach out to you. My hands, Just for today, I will appreciate all you do, Routinized and mechanical at times, Without much thought You are always there for me. So today, I celebrate and thank you.
Each Day is a Gift
I welcome my mortality. It’s scary to share with another Thoughts of the impermanence of life. Perhaps it is too morbid a subject for some And it can really darken another’s mood. Once you hit middle age You begin to realize Half of a lifetime May already have been lived. Maybe one day you notice It takes the body longer to recover than it used to. Like I can’t roller skate as fast as before And my balance is a bit off-kilter. If today was my last day to live How would I want it to go? What would make my final moments Have meaning? Would I feel I’ve lived a well-lived and well-loved life? Or would I deeply feel the shortness of life And the reality that there isn’t enough time To do “all the things;” That there was more in this lifetime for me to experience? Checking things off a list or a life of comparison, wanting what they have even if it doesn’t resonate with you, isn’t the point. Each day I try to embody that life truly is a gift. And I intend to bring that appreciation And gratitude into all my days While I get to roam this earth.
What’s missing these days?
Time to pursue my creativity; Too many distractions and obligations That eat away my energy. And then when it's a good time to do the one thing I most want to do, I put it off, yet again. In the moment, Dusting the shelf just seems easier than writing. Just when I’m getting myself Motivated to start, There’s always one more thing to do. And that seems to take priority Over my creative pursuit. What’s missing? Time to connect to myself and others. A sense that there isn’t enough time; That I could or should be doing more. Although, how can that possibly be true? What ifs, coulds and shoulds are easy to be explain and defend When there’s no evidence to the contrary. And it takes me further away From my desires, my dreams. Even though I know the reasons are untrue That I can prioritize myself, My creativity, My movement, And the momentum gets started again. Everything ebbs and flows. Energy and time. Winter is the season of quiet reflection Of taking stock And not regret for what never was And couldn't ever be.
J.W., a father
I never lived with my biological father. We never slept under the same roof, shared a movie, cuddling on the couch. He never got to hold my hand or see my firsts: My first steps My first day of school My first time driving a car. And I didn’t miss having him in my life Because he was never there So I didn’t truly feel a loss from the beginning. It didn’t really bother me During those formative years. My mother and my grandfather Did the best they could to fill in the gaps. They let me know that I was loved. And I felt loved Deep into my heart and bones. When we made Father’s Day crafts or gifts at school, I always gave them to My grandfather, my Pepe. He was my first male role model, along with my uncle. It was only when I became a teenager Did I first feel that loss, Feeling unwanted And unloved, even unworthy. Then as a mom, When my children had their firsts: First crawl, first bite of peas, First steps, etc. Did I realize that he missed out on a lot. How could he ever play catch-up, if he wanted to, and even the parenting/playing field? Now I know the type of person, Monster he was And I am grateful that I didn’t have to share A roof with him. I didn’t need his resources, His attention or discipline. And I gained so much: My independence My self-reliance My kinship with my siblings. We all shared the same upbringing. And I didn’t have to share my mom’s heart or her attention, besides my own siblings. And we created our own traditions And special days together. It didn’t have to be material to make a difference. I haven’t seen my biological father, J.W. Since I was 17. I couldn’t tell you if he was Alive or dead. He is a stranger among strangers. And my family has always been complete Even without his presence.
Shopping with Mom
I remember our solo shopping trips to K-Mart. It was just for a couple of hours And I was my mom’s shopping buddy, Helping to push the cart and being surrounded by endless options available in the aisles. A girl could get lost for an hour or two Just browsing and dreaming in the toy department. After our shopping was complete, We would go get an Italian grinder to share. It was always a highlight and bittersweet Because it meant our shopping trip was coming to an end. Plus, shopping always gives me an appetite. And not just for the potential goods and wares But the fulfillment that each item promises. I wonder what memories I’m creating today That my children will cherish into their adulthood. We never know what impression will make its mark When we’re living the moment in real-time as it occurs. It’s only in hindsight and reflection That our memories get formed and shaped Later to be accessed again at a future date. To be determined. We never know when a scent, a sound or a view will recall that memory back into focus to embody that time and space once again.
Healing Insights 