Of the Desperate

Brushing the robe, halting hesitant,

two fingers barely touched the hem—

desperation

bleeding pain and disappointment for years and tears.

It was a desperate touch, a face-to-ground, weighted-down touch.

And in the moment He knew, and I knew.

In the jostle of swarming feet, flying dust and flailing pleas,

insignificant me,

me on the fringe,

gripped the fringe of his garment; and in one moment, the tiny thread that held me tethered to life and hope became sacred bonds of the everlasting,

and I was healed. 

    

Moon Moments

Posted on May 6, 2012by apronheadlilly

As the moon gets its light from another–
another surer source,
a brighter blazing light,
so must I give over my smudged soul to Spirit’s light:
Shine forth!
Shine where I would have only cast shadow.

Nothing New Under the Sunset

Posted on April 10, 2012by apronheadlilly

 

4-9-12

We just had another glorious sunset.
Is that too superlative or maybe too cliché?
Okay, it was totally awesome, dude–mmm
. . . or maybe pretty, in an exclamation point kind of way.
That’s it!
I need to speak in punctuation marks colon
fresh, innovative, disarming kinds of descriptors!
Or maybe not–insert sigh.
It was layered, peachy, pink chiffon
with crystalline threads of lavender and sky blue–wind breathed.
. . . Sky blue in the sky doesn’t really fit.
Robin’s egg blue!
Okay, I give up.
It was a beautiful, inspiring display of earth rotation!
(Notice how I didn’t say sunset. Is that a cliché yet?)

Looking west

The Effects of the Fall

Posted on March 27, 2012by apronheadlilly

'11

(Now if you believe in Adam and Eve and the fallen nature of man, you got that title and thought it was ever so clever . . . or not. If you don’t believe, pretend it’s a seasonal piece.)

I thought perhaps I’d humored out on broken rib posts, but given that the pain meds were giving me too many side effects, and given that I hurt more than ever, I figured I better milk it a bit longer before the little white shooting lights come back.

The following are painful observations:

• If there is a 50-50 chance of hitting the trash can with your rubbish, you will always miss, simply because it hurts too much to lean over and pick it up.

• If there is a 100 % chance of hitting it, the same rule applies. See above.

• If you are gimpily trying to put some food together for a raw, organic, nutrient dense lunch (That last part was propaganda.), you will undoubtedly drop most items on the floor because a broken rib somehow makes brains and hands impotent. If the item is edible, call the dog. If the item is inedible and unimportant in say anything short of contributing to world peace, kick it under the stove.

• If in the tiniest of print under “Contraindications,” you notice that 1-2% of test subjects experience swelling, Bubonic plague, cramps, bleeding, headaches, Tourette outbursts (but only in euphemisms), and those little shooting lights, be advised to return it to your pharmacy. A broken rib uses the new math where 2% = always.

• Breaking a rib is like the Butterfly Effect and will set off all manner of weird occurrences from leaking pipes in the wall to neighbor’s car alarms repeatedly going off to rising gas prices to earthquakes. (Somebody tell Mexico and Chile I’m sorry!)

• My friend recommended fresh parsley tea to help with one of the side effects that will remain nameless; and I must say, it is right up there with lemongrass. I envision a whole grass section at Starbucks in the not too distant past.

• Since I can’t take the heavy-duty brain, liver, and bladder destroying narcotics anymore, I’m trying a homeopathic remedy, which seems to be helping some. Problem: You must take it a half hour after having eaten or drunk, and not eat or drink for another half hour. Take 12 to 24 to 480 times a day. Now you do the math. I’m hobbling for the hormone-free ice cream because if I want that miniscule relief in my pain quotient, I need to do it now!

So there you have it: Another installment in “Lost—the Next Generation.” I already have the tea (parsley), now for the sympathy . . .

I couldn’t go to weather, so . . .

Posted on March 26, 2012by apronheadlilly

3-'12

I couldn’t go to weather,
so weather kindly came to me.
(Sounds almost Emily Dickinson-ish, don’t you think?)

Even with a broken rib,
I hobbled front and back and bedroom bath
to catch the wind and sun kissed clouds,
scudding across the sky, dodging raindrops.

There was only a 40% chance of rain,
and it was 40%-ing all over the place,
right above my head!

Endorphins heightened with every digital capture,
me in my wet socks and scruffy robe
(wonder what the neighbors thought),
me in my bed hair and hunched pain–but
better than pills,
and better than sulks is weather,
and it kindly stopped for me.

California Fire

Posted on March 7, 2012by apronheadlilly

3-5-12

I squeeze my digital self between pesky houses that would try to block
my flaming California sky–
threads and cords of cloud set afire by
a descending sun.
Zoom,
zoom.
Through skinny fingered branches,
I catch the horizon of my world
and my imagination.

In the Pink . . . and Orange and Gold and Maroon and . . .

Last night's sunset was a dilly!  When the winds came in, the cloud formations starting getting interesting; then the color came.  We were driving, so all the color shots were from a moving car.  I was stopped briefly on the highway at a red light in front of the Shell station for that one.  Now if I had been driving . . .

Here's how it started:



This is how it developed--riotous gold, maroon, orange, etc. to the west and pinks and powder blues to the east and southeast.  The north was ablaze with swaths of deep rose, as well, but since my hubby was driving, it was hard to shoot across him (or in his face) to get a shot.  Though I tried! :-)

In the Pink

When I am blue,
there is healing in the pink.
When barbed darkness presses down,
 a crushing breath-taker,
I can look up to these ribbons of wonder,
remembering redemption is nearer than I can imagine.