Thursday, August 9, 2012

When night comes...



When night comes on padded paws
settling in my curves, against my aching hips
purring
a familiar tune,
I surrender.

No use fighting the day's screeches
habitual gnats of discontent
that stick around all night
waiting for that glass of water that is never offered.

I'm
spent to the bone
I declare to no one in particular; I'm  just gonna put my head down
close my eyes
and remember what eyes and toes and fingers feel like.
Parts numbed by day's labor, great and small,
demand full attention.

Before night is over, it puts all parts back in the same whole.





7 comments:

  1. I see this is a day for writing ... we have been busy at our computers!

    This is lovely, Rosaria. All parts back in the same whole, yes.

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  2. Another thought just came to mind as I reflected on your poem. Do you think that body awareness that allows the body and the mind to relax and refresh leads to healing after grief? I think you are on to something here.

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  3. Sally, I have been more aware of my body this last year, and I have been kinder to it, getting more rest, more physical therapy, more fun activities. By challenging my body, I made it stronger, and more resilient. In the evening, I've taken long baths before bedtime, indulging in aromatherapy, and massages. We have also taken up new things, like fiddle playing, and upgrading our digs.

    We have indulged ourselves; and the body and the soul have appreciated the extra attention. The grief is there still, just under the skin; and one word, one image can bring tears and a choking feeling.

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  4. We sleep and then begin it all again!

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