I see everyone around me on their phone
even in the water, they wear it around their neck
like a noose or a dog leash
I don’t know
but I don’t want to live attached to some appendage
and when it is gone you feel a loss
you don’t know how to fill in the moments,
the awkward silence
a stranger to your own mind
Inundated with opinions, media, news
It’s hard to separate the independent voice from the noise
Is there any original thought or has there never been?
We document our moments
Hosts of our own lives
oversharing and blaring
adding more to the stream of information
I want a reprieve
a break in the noise
to be okay in the void that remains
Then I get to decide what to put there:
a comfortable armchair, pillows,
a small table for cookies and tea
a blanket and nook for my book
Here I have room to breathe
we are wireless beings,
not meant to be tethered
we have freedom in the space that remains
to explore, to listen
We don’t have to post and add to find meaning
the chaos and noise will always be there
when we pick up our device
I am the conductor of my life
and today I choose the breeze,
the sunshine, even when it is smoky
I do not have to escape from the present moment
there is nowhere to go
Just here and now is all we got
I am grateful for this breath,
this strong heart that loves and holds
A freedom beats in my chest
Tag: reprieve
The light in the dark
The darkest weeks ascend toward us
The circles of wind-swept dead leaves
approach and scatter as I walk
I tread lightly and look to the sky
The shimmering light of morning sun
dazzled and greeted me
My curious heart reached out
and leaped to meet the current
of light and warmth above
It is a welcome reprieve
The dazzling sunsets will tuck me in
to a play of color and a gift
from the painter in the sky
whose hues and shades and strokes of
pinks, oranges and purple
stir me to a relaxed lullaby
of warm tea, a blanket and a book
We all need to rest and gather
during these darkest weeks
It is a welcome reprieve
The old bakery
We walked everywhere as kids. Mom didn’t drive so our options were limited. We walked up and down the busy at times streets. Cars whizzed by. The blaring sirens of firetrucks and ambulances. The familiar thud as car tires ran over a dipped manhole cover. I don’t remember why we were in Wescott. There was no bus route or a friend’s house to visit. Then I discovered a bakery. I could smell the fresh loaves of bread long before we crossed the threshold. My stomach growled, wanting to gobble the aroma that danced and swirled around my nostrils. Did we go in? Did we buy a prized loaf? I don’t remember eating the fresh bread, just the aromas lingering as we walked by. A secret bakery, no longer hidden from our path. Sweet, fresh, warm, beckoning us all inside for a bit a reprieve from the walking, how our legs would sometimes ache. And our stomachs’ noise matched our longing. A childhood memory, forever etched in my mind of a long gone bakery of decades past.
Healing Insights 