Bleak Midwinter
Winter
coat white outside
layered over
inside
lost in a season
incognito
buried in the hope
rooted within
Peace
Exhaled
breath to the end
Emptied
pulsing heart
confused by hate and race
not white
under the weight of grace-less men
this Black life matters
"Mama" please
rest in peace
Roots
Rain heavy leaves
surviving the fall
spine fractured and severed high,
alive only in memory of a collective grace.
With dreams of new life budding
in leaf soaked earth,
roots nurture all of life
Mother kissed
birthing a new haven.
Regarding death….
The personal threat of death looms heavy.
The air we breathe seems thick with risk.
As a physician, I live quite cautiously – very aware of biology and consequence.
At the same time I live blindly in service to a call.
So regarding my death,
I am aware of treasured moments and hope
yet also the horror of being very alone in fear…
today that will be enough.
Success
Alone
seemingly above it all
success
radiates like heat
upward
then
into the burden of the soul
Alone.
Rhonda
I chose the yellowed white pearls your hands crafted,
gifted art,
entwined with my memory forever.
Now on the morning drive west
the pink gold sun
rises slowly behind me.
This gift speaks your goodbye to me.
Your death was from my art undone.
I am sorry.
There is more care than orders scripted or procedures done,
more than the fatigue of so much hurt.
I chose the yellowed white pearls
entwined in memory,
awakened to a daily becoming,
not fading
burning off the haze of dawn.
Essence
In the cycle of death
beyond time and space
a light
boldly sings
an essence of forever being
and my soul remembers why I am.
Photography thanks to Expose Nature @WordPress
For The Record
She did not match the data presented
in hospital speak to a crowd of learners.
It was not so much a lie
as it was a revealing – a tale.
The well and the ill are stories
told from all sides of a hospital bed
in space and time
not captured in code and computer screens.
So let the record so reflect
the hurt and the heart of
hands reaching
and healing
beyond the numbering of days.
Photography thanks to Nick Van Zanten
Edge
The beauty of a sunset along the Appalachian gaps
reminds me that I wish no one ill
Yet then its shining point annoys
I squint
and the glare strains my soul
I shout
“go hide in the valley and die out”
no patience
no presence
and in that breath
I have struck an edge
from life to death
honestlylolly.com 