poems – Jeanne Hewell-Chambers

a pink and yellow flower with a big bloom at the top and cubbies making their way to the roots

Jeanne reading Journey (with a touch of frogginess from lingering seasonal allergies)

JOURNEY

Today I praise
the multitudes inside me
the girl
the teen
the woman
the mother
the daughter
the friend
the wife
the student
the teacher
the fledgling.

I praise
the questions
the doubts
the wonderings
and wanderings.
I praise
the light
the darkness
the fallow
the storms
the harvests
inside me,
knowing it takes all these elements
for seeds to grow and bloom.

I praise the Committee of Jeanne
The Child who knows the value of play
the soft whispers of The Wise Woman
who says things only once
because that is enough.
I even praise
the stern, sure, booming voice
that has something to say about everything
and declares and decrees with great authority
from the end
of his wagging finger.

I praise
the chorus
that creates pitch (im)perfect beauty
when my heart, hands, brain, and soul
sing, stitch, and scribe
hymns of
words
cloth
paper
movement
silence.

I praise
the deep ever-replenishing well
of knowledge
wisdom
curiosity
creativity
tenderness
anger
fear
humor
vulnerability
confidence
that resides deep inside,
creating the Cartography of Jeanne.

With great exultation,
I praise the occasional gumption mustered
to tug on the zipper
of the invisible bubble I call Home
and turn myself inside out,
letting my face
my body
my entire Being
feel the sun
of being genuine.

~~~~~~~

Poem 1
September 1, 2025

Let’s begin with the what and the why of it all . . .

NOTE: Today (well, technically, 2 days ago – such is my life!) I begin writing something every day. Some days it will be a poem. Other days a story. Some days it might be editing and revising a previously written piece. Why am I doing this? Because I can no longer not do it. The words jangle and knock around inside me, and finally one taps their watch and looks at me with a look that clearly says – no words needed – It’s time.

An so it is.

Bubbles, Alison, and Ava Jeanne leave the hospital to begin our lives together! (Note the beautifully smocked - if I do say so myself - dress Ava Jeanne wears home. The bonnet Ava Jeanne wears was worn by her mother when she came home from the hospital.

Bubbles, Alison, and Ava Jeanne leave the hospital to begin our lmulti-generational together! (Note the beautifully smocked – if I do say so myself – dress Ava Jeanne wears home. The bonnet Ava Jeanne wears was worn by her mother when she came home from the hospital.

Sounds of
Tiny hands slapping watermelons
and joining in with applause
until she knows an A+.
Boats making their way
through the deep water of our backyard.
Birds melodiously conversing
with birds of different feathers.
Wind chimes singing a duet
with clacking palm trees to the tune of gentle breezes.

The feel of
Really cold ice on her tongue.
The tickle of peach fuzz against her chubby cheek.
Heavily mayonnaises potato salad
squishing through her tiny fingers.
Ephemeral bath bubbles on her arms
Ocean waves stealing the ground from beneath her feet.

Scents of
Roses and peonies.
Heavy hot air of the Lowcountry summer.
A watermelon busting open.
Bubble gum flavored toothpaste.

Seeing
Her mother’s face when she enters the room.
The vast ever-changing ocean.
Her bedtime bottle.

Slowly
slowly
Sometimes taking one step forward
and thirteen backwards,
The shroud of grief is pierced
at least momentarily
and she reacquaints me with
wonder
delight
and hope.

~~~~~~~

Notes:
~ Ava Jeanne is a year older now than in this photo, but the computer wouldn’t cooperate and upload the photo i want to use.
~ My mother took her last earthly breath last fall, and still I grieve. Hard.
~ This was written as granddaughter Ava Jeanne took her 2-hour nap this afternoon in my lap. I know, I know. I shouldn’t be rocking her at this stage . . . but one thing I know for sure: I won’t get a second chance to do this.