Energy … near 90

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My friend Katie

Somewhere in her late

Eighties

Warned me this

You’ll lose your

Energy

Not me

I silently replied

Katie was right

My energy is

Evaporating

Like air from a

Balloon

With a tiny pin prick

Hole

Slowly     slowly

Over the years

Hardly noticeable until

It is noticed

Felt in the body

Matter over mind

And do not look

Back

On what an energized

Body

That puts mind over

Matter

Was able to do

And did

 

It now becomes

Acceptance

Yes

This is where I am

Today

Who I am

Still me

Only slowed

Things to accomplish

As always

Get accomplished

The finishing     perhaps

Coming with vermilion

Clouds

The sun leaves behind

Going wherever it goes

Done for this day

As I also

Am done for this

Day

Then Speak

A wall of fog

Creeps over me

Slowly obliterating

My sense of

Reality

Of what is being

Talked about

Between you and the

Other

 

Am I on the

Outside

The opposite

Side

Unseen

My any word

Silenced

 

Memories come rushing

Back

I am a child

Again

To be seen

But not heard

As the saying goes

Words not my

Own

Whirling over my

Head

Land on me

At Grandmother’s

Every Sunday dinner

Table

 

My hair     my hair

I’d sit mute

Listen to them talk

What to do with

My hair

 

But now

Am not that

Child

I am a grown

Woman

Who blamed you

For my need to be

Included

Turned the wall of

Fog

Into ice

Then blamed myself

Trying to melt the

Ice

That lingered in my

Heart

 

Sitting in silence

I say to myself

 

Grow up

Recognize     accept

If you feel left

Out

You put yourself

There

All you have to do is

Speak

Find a pause

An intake of a

Breath

 

Then     speak

 

the poet & her father, 1939

Blessed be She

Blessed be She

Who found the small

Mid-Eastern Deli

That reminded her

Of an old New Mexican

Church

Bless its transformation

Into the Unity Church of

Santa Fe

The church with open

Doors

With open hearts

 

Blessed be She

Who led her congregation

To the doorway of

Understanding

Inviting them to enter

Or remain wherever

They choose to be

Blessed freedom of

Choice

 

Blessed be She

Who speaks the word of

God

Filtered through the

Mind

Of her understanding

 

Blessed be She

Who leaves her pulpit

Free

To grow to other levels of

Spirituality

As she closes the book

On her twenty-seven

Blessed years

Years of service

To the blessed Unity Church

Of Santa Fe

 

Bless you on your way

With our Love

Our blessed memories

Of your years

And our eternal gratitude

Dear Rev Brendalyn Batchelor

Bless

 

 

Thanksgiving by Ourselves

It is the week before

Thanksgiving

Already Crepe Myrtle

Has released

Most every small leaf

Attached to her

Ever so skinny branches

To become a coverlet

For the dirt ladened

Ground

 

Sycamore

Has a long way

Still

To finish letting go

Her large leaves

Needing to dry into

Burnished gold

Before they slowly

Fall

In graceful descent

To cover the grass

That surrounds her

Many managing to

Invade

The garden

Where Hibiscus and

Azaleas

Try to bloom

This late in

November

 

We will eat at home

By ourselves

This Thanksgiving

Day

With joyful memories of

Thanksgivings past

Here we will be

Together     together

What more can we

Want

What more could we

Ask

(written November 2021)