being a stone turner of long standing,
i enjoy studying the back sides of art cloths
as much as i enjoy gazing at the front, more public, side . . .
i flip The Rinse Cycle 2 (a new series) over, and i see
i see every shade of blue
the sky has every worn.
i see knots.
some of friendships – unions – marriages – new beginnings
celebrations that bring us together in festival and gladness.
i see knots of hanging on – depression – despair.
i see knots as fists, landing blows in the shape of words
and i see the knots i feel in my stomach
in the wake of the blows,
even after so much time has passed.
i see trails taken
and trails not taken.
i see curves in the roads
who could have known?
there were no maps.
there couldn’t be.
i see an undisturbed spot of aching
by those who predeceased me.
gone ahead, some would say,
they died and are dead.
i do not gloss over death
with prettier words
because it does not change anything
or lessen the longing.
i see those who might have died
and i rejoice.
oh my goodness gracious how i do rejoice.
i see giant steps
and teensy tentative baby steps.
i see skips
i see crooked lines
paths that go every which-a-way,
often against the grain.
vast and small
i see hope
and life on the verge.
nay, i see life in leaps and bounds
as i stand in the present
remembering the past
and wondering with keen anticipation
and a quickening, actually
about the future.
happy new year to us all.
may we rock it
and mark it
as only we can.
Pull up a chair why don't you, and let's talk . . .