Cold and colorless is the inside of my heart
Since my Mama died
Easter had just passed
when she succumbed
to mighty Death
We all grieved, but individually
threw ourselves on different paths
The weeks and months passed
And sadness prevailed
tinging almost every waking moment.
And if perchance sleep did come
waking meant remembering
and remembering meant
a heaviness forcing you down
making it harder and harder
to drag yourself out of bed
Some days were better than others
But that wasn’t saying much
And crying doesn’t do jack
if you even let yourself go there
alerting the dog to such
scared, sandy-eyed emptiness
But the dog instinctively
comforts you in all its furry glory
Once your Mom’s sufferings were over
you thought you’d be able to move on, grieve, surely,
but move on from the horrors of watching her slowly die
Instead every day is a sentence
and every move or moment
is both monumental
yet so purposelessly unimportant,
so far removed from what you’re not feeling
And then you realize you’ve stopped feeling
because that’s easier, but what’s left ?
You feel disconnected from people and things
You wonder if Mom is looking down on us
and tsk-tsking at our inability to move on
Anything you do accomplish is from sheer robotic tenacity
Not from any passion or want or desire
You watch others and see their smiles and enjoyment of life
of simple things, of big and not so big moments
You envy their energy and silliness
You’d pray for the same
but you don’t really pray anymore
if you ever did
The dog park offers whimsical relief.
Watching dogs’ sheer focus on play is de-compressing.
Their joyful physicality, delirious romping
rejuvenating your mind and body.
Circumscribing your wallowing.
Like when a puppy shows up in his Eddie Bauer vest
and some dogs will put a bead on him, just cause he’s a pup,
initiation time for fresh meat…
And when you see that pup
stand up and fight for himself,
it’s a rare and awesome thing,
cause in these fracases,
puppies get the short end of the stick
generally yelping for help
or running for their owner’s cover
In this case, the owner felt compelled to step in,
but the puppy was not willing to be rescued.
He embodied scrappiness
Sustaining some serious double-teaming !
Hair-raising to watch, as the young referee tried to put the brakes on.
Tenacity shakes off one transgressor…
…and finally the last of the hazers
A particularly sweet-faced mug
At Silverwood, a wedding party featured ice candle holders
Tash was unusually reticent around this sniffer.
It was nice to see her take a back seat to the inspections
Nice and kinda strange,
but she’s not been herself lately.
None of us have.
Spring is in the air.
It’s not even March.
But the eagles have returned
Gearing up for the hatching
Padding the homestead
busy as can be
Every day arising
as if from
the phoenix’s ashes