Wind

There’s a “Wind Advisory,” here in western Massachusetts. It’s been howling all night and today’s gusts have climbed to 45MPH. A pack of teenagers have come down to the river; I hear them giggling and I’m drawn to the window. They’re tottering around the water’s edge, holding hands, like crackin’ the whip. Their hair and clothes spin violently around them, as they dance with nimble feet over the stone-lined path. The wind re-drapes their forms every few seconds, reminding me of the gesture drawings I rendered during my days as an art student. Youth and Mother Nature collide and a simple pleasure is born, right before my eyes! Gratitude surges and a smile spreads across my face. It’s a blessed moment, made sweeter by its presence during this time of recovery, this time of going inward to tame old demons and learn new lessons. The kids are out of sight now, but the waves and wind’s whistle remain to keep me company.

WIND

Alone

He skates on thin ice, with the ease of a champion,

Because he’s had a lifetime to practice.

Lost in the music that plays inside his head,

He dances, all alone and unencumbered.

Bending his head as he glides through a turn,

He smiles at his shining reflection.

A crack in the surface reveals the depths below,

Where fear and longing and I reside.

I’m used to the chill and welcome the numbness,

That’s finally frozen my heart.

It no longer beats for hope without resolution,

For words declaring love that never blooms.

Etched in the tissue of my foolish, trusting spirit,

Scars replace years of careless wounds.

The higher I dared to let his words lift me,

The farther and harder I fell.

Having tasted real love, I remember it clearly,

And settling for less no longer serves me.

I’ve put down my weapons, those cruel, shaming words,

I spat upon myself, just for caring.

He skates on thin ice, with the ease of a champion,

Because he’s had a lifetime to practice.

Lost in the music that plays inside his head, he dances,

All alone and unencumbered.

Why Am I Here, You Ask?

After years of diaries and journals and professors saying “You’re a writer!” I finally mustered the courage to go public. Most of my life I’ve concentrated on the visual arts and craft and I’m a jewelry maker, today. I’ve traveled the “9 to 5” route all my life, but now that my daughter’s grown and flown and rooted firmly, I’ve started a new chapter. I write because I enjoy it, because the muse visits often and because I think it’s important to tell the truth. I’m still getting used to hitting the “Post” button and to the delightful feeling that comes from knowing someone has enjoyed my words. Connections make my world go ’round…