dancing grief

Hair, deeply rooted, still changes.

Vivid brown roots transform to sparkling grey;

Your skin, still so elegant, keeps a smooth terrain, like soft plaster.

Green iris eyes hold a conglomerate of sights seen, loves lost, and hopes deferred.

The life you have lived oozes from your pores;

You, though aging, have really, wholly –

Lived.

We all age.

Our hair may hold no secrets but our hearts, pulled with depth and certainty into our chest are the keepers of our souls.

Here, you find the tender touches of your children, the dreams unlocked, and the forgotten pain that no one sees. Here you keep surprise birthdays, the taste of vanilla bean ice cream, and the pleasures of a walk outdoors after a long spring sun-shower.

Blossoming youth become sophisticated adults become seasoned senior citizens until we are “old” – 

And then –

Like a deadline, we ignore its looming until –

it arrives.

In death, we lose treasures:

stories told and untold;

loves revealed and unrevealed;

recipes cooked and uncooked.

A photograph does not contain your spirit.

A story, even with energy, grows old.

Herein lies grief.

Our powerlessness.

Our sadness.

Our nostalgia.

Grief upon grief dances together, lies together, tarnishing the vivid array of color we once held. We weep, we weep, and we are afraid it will never stop.

Never what we had will be again. And yet. We live on.

We carry you.

We remember you.

We give to our lives the way you gave,

knowing mysteriously and gracefully that it passes on.

UNADJUSTEDNONRAW_thumb_bec.jpg

The Baptism of Narragansett

Sea crumbs clutch the ankles of my shell-cast feet;

the sand sinks, as i run, run, run,

melting like ice cream in the breezy, cold sun of Narragansett.

 

my voice is no longer silenced but i choose to be quiet –

the Sea has something important to say,

the liberation of others is bound in you.

the liberation of you is bound in others.

 

i am tired of being the oppressed;

i am tired of being the oppressor,

why must i be both?

Sea, won’t you free me?

 

white gay rich woman traveled far

to be here.

 

wildly, i embrace the ocean, the Sea, the wide blue of love

my breathe is cut short,

i am outside of me, finally.

 

do i feel oppressed?

i am oppressed in what we call beautiful –

i am oppressed in what we call love –

i am oppressed in how you look at me –

i am oppressed in how i must justify my choices –

 

my oppression is blind

you will not find it in

poor slums,

poor homes,

the confines of my office,

or the car i drive

 

you will find it in the secret corners of dark hearts.

 

have i oppressed?

i took what was not mine

i received what i did not work for

i benefited from the whiteness that covers me, follows me, lives in me –

 

Baptize me, Sea, in the freedom to know I am loved.

 

I am enough.

I am an active agent here, on earth, on the sweet Sea of Narragansett,

and I will fight for those who stand, sit, and fight in chains –

 

and for myself –

i will open the lungs for breath and use my words for good,

i will write the words of truth,

i will give up power for the sake of the other,

i will ask again, and again, and again that the oppressor in me – will die –

 

I am free, like the Sea crumbs that fill my hair, heart, soul.

Bring me to the salvation of perfect love.

IMG_2764

IMG_2793

IMG_2837.JPG