Six Months...

                   That Morning

Searching frantically for poems, music, or words
anything to mark your death
to bring you back to me
six months ago today...half a year
and so the tears begin
a seemingly permanent condition
that takes me back to you, that morning
the unreal silence of the breath I use to listen to
the unbelievability of your stilled body that use to hold me close
no longer seeing me
hearing me
feeling me...
the loneliness for you
for us
for then
I am unable to touch the place to make it better
all I do is yearn for you
everyday remember what we did
sadness spreads as hot molten lava
burning me
hardening me
to the stone
searching for her lover
I love you, Richard

-Carol Rodi

 This was written Friday by me...as an expression of my grief. 

   

A Mary Oliver Kind of a Day...

As I move along in my studies as an art student with my concentration in painting... I have reached the place on this journey of being directed to begin thinking about and writing a proposal for what I want to focus on this semester. That gave me pause, what do I want to put my attention to...there it is, the thing which stops me, blocks me, my cement wall in the road with seemingly no way around it.

I wrote it out and handed it in. Today I reread it and thought more about my words. I said in effect that I "want to focus on the ordinary, the simple...trying to keep in mind that everything is a potential set up...learn to look beyond the whole and find the beauty in the parts. There were some words about technique and things I would like to work on such as economy of strokes and light and shadow being the thing that drives everything on the canvas.

I have started with pears, old faithful pears...beautiful shapes, subtle colors. I have scraped off my canvas twice already this week, in disgust. But I am working on it, staring at it, mumble, moan inwardly and continue see things I could change...that is the important thing. I am researching things I may want to work with and in so doing I reached for one of my books by Mary Oliver book, which I do when a little out of sorts and found a poem, Wild Geese and that led me to look at and begin to draw some wild geese...now there s a stretch. Not so much because the poem was specifically about geese but the thoughts and feelings that came about in the reading of the poem and the geese are now the connection for me...and maybe something to take me over that cement wall in the middle of my road.



I found the reading of Wild Geese by the poet herself and that was an emotional moment. The poem being read by the author brought me to tears. So I offer it to you today and hope you hear something you needed to hear today as I did.





Then I happened upon Messenger. As I said earlier, it is just that kind of day...

Messenger

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird —
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.


~ Mary Oliver ~

Have a great day and thanks for reading.

Winter Solstice

Just for the sake of posting I found a poem that kind of speaks to the matter at hand, winter...cold, dark winter. Today is the Winter Solstice, the first day of Winter. I have done some very interesting reading today on the subject as it happens to be my favorite season so I thought I would herald it in with a little research.


Winter: A Dirge



Robert Burns said that Winter was his favourite season - "partly owing to my misfortunes giving my mind a melancholy cast." Indeed, it was after such a period of misfortune that he composed this melancholy song. It was written to the tune "MacPherson's Rant".

Winter: A Dirge
The wintry west extends his blast,
And hail and rain does blaw;
Or the stormy north sends driving forth
The blinding sleet and snaw:
Wild-tumbling brown, the burn comes down,
And roars frae bank to brae:
And bird and beast in covert rest,
And pass the heartless day.

The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast,
The joyless winter day
Let others fear, to me more dear
Than all the pride of May:
The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul,
My griefs it seems to join;
The leafless trees my fancy please,
Their fate resembles mine!

Thou Pow'r Supreme, whose mighty scheme
These woes of mine fulfil.
Here, firm I rest, they must be best,
Because they are Thy will!
Then all I want (O do Thou grant
This one request of mine!):
Since to enjoy Thou dost deny,
Assist me to resign.

Meaning of unusual words:
brae=slope

And for those of you who would rather listen to it, just hit the link.




I am knitting feverishly and have much to get done.I finished the Fuzzy Feet Slippers yesterday, working on some gloves now. There is some weaving to finish...Never really got to the decorating because over a month ago, my husband decided to do some work in the kitchen and it just has made a mess of everything, so if I have to try to figure out where one more thing goes...well, you know. Oh yes, bless him, he chose the holidays to do this stuff...



Anyway, Happy Solstice...be warm and cozy and watch for the light to return with each passing day. Be encouraged. Thanks for reading.
Peace.