…I just want to let everyone, who follows me, know that I am preparing for my first public reading. Which is why I have been posting less new stuff these days. I should be back on track after next week. Until then…enjoy the old stuff. See you on the flip side.
Much love, April
Do Not Follow by Junest on DeviantART
Spring does not bring change
It simply continues
The constant doing
And undoing of things
If I am to fully let myself feel it
The giddy heady longer days
The forward motion
Of birds, and grass, and sun
I must have thrown myself in
To the depths of winter
Covered in the stings of pelting ice
Or huddled in the dark, hibernation
Of isolation and waiting
While snowdrifts piled outside
I did
I let the seasons in
And let myself be with them
So today I sing and dance
With spring
Because yesterday
I fell with leaves
And let myself
Lay dormant in the drift
— April Resnick
Seasons by Dilorom Abdullaeva
Reposted for Thanksgiving.
I am thankful for all of the seasons of my life, and for learning to let them in…fully.
There are times the drudge and daily chore,
Do calm me down to spite the bore.
Things in their place and quite wiped clean,
Provide a peace I’ve seldom seen.
It never lingers past the surface, yet,
There are days when menial tasks are worth it.
Not exactly bliss from mindful meditation,
But silly satisfied reprieve from piling up frustration.
— April Resnick
Photo by Stephen Swintek/Getty Images
Last night
My lover claimed 100% of me
Of loyalty and of belief, I will not let this be
I reject this, my body cannot digest this
100% of anything, a lie, unless we speak of when you die
All of me, not up for grabs, not even on the table
I will save whatever painted face that I am able
There is at least one card you cannot see
So close that I have sewn it directly into me
Mine this fleshy vest, you may have the rest
But this Dame, she’s mine to play, one day
I alone will reach into my beating heart
Seams ripping apart, and I will throw her down
That Queen, and claim her crown
She and I alone decide how much of me
To hold, to play, to bluff, discard, or hide
Or perhaps if you are lucky
To let it ride
— April Resnick
Judith II The Queen of Hearts by Karen M.
Sometimes
I sit at the top of a staircase
No sacred space but a threshold
No sacred wall hangings but hastily draped drying towels
No sacred incense but the scent of wood and dust and dampness
And whatever soap I used last to wash my hands
No sacred sounds but the clicking of dog claws on the floor
The world as it moves outside
The sudden ring of a phone, and my breath
As it passes over the hairs in my nostrils
Mimicking this morning the wind that howls thought the tops of the trees
No sacred design but now or never
A moment between routine and responsibilities
Before I shrug it off, descend, and start my day
No sacred posture but balancing
Upright just enough to keep me from tipping too far forward
I am acutely aware of life and near disaster and the forward motion of it all
And another shadowy tunnel I will someday face
No sacred schedule but a subtle pull towards stillness
I am content for now to sit silent
To gaze down this century old passageway
To pay attention to whatever comes up
At the top of this staircase
— April Resnick
My Staircase
We wake up in bad moods
We forget our breath
We argue with others
We will face our own death.
We all get embarrassed
We trip and we burp
We reach out for others
We hurt when we hurt.
We can sit in silence
We can follow our breath
We can notice the details
And wake up before death.
–April Resnick
Partner, playmate, provocateur
I forget the power you hold
Transform this sullen sleep-walker
Into giddy, grand, and bold
Whether all alone and careless
Letting go and moving free
Or intricate instruction meant
To mold each tiny turn of me
You bring me living lessons
Self acceptance, courage, trust
If only I would not deny you
Save sacred space in me, for us
— April Resnick
Paintings are dancing… by ribhu on deviantart.com
Today I expected to sit inside of pain
But with the bell still ringing
I found surprise again
A little silver wrapper there in front of me
Cradled by swirling carpet
Sweet equanimity
Contents devoured weeks ago, you glinted
Empty in the morning sun
My discontent relented
Hollowed out from seeking treats
No trick at all, just
You and me
I bow to you with closing bell, reminded
A candy Buddha is enough
To find it
— April Resnick
Hershey’s Kiss by Kellie Marian Hill
I am pregnant with change
Old seams are too tight
Once humming zippers
Simply grunt, refuse flight
I am finding it harder
To suck all of me in
Parts that used to be shameful
Breaking free from within
The one that’s emerging
Is far braver than I
So I will let her feed
Until she is satisfied
I am finding her precious
I am loving her skin
I am drawn to her voice
Gifts from where she has been
When will we give birth
Our full bellies allowed
I am unclenching my middle
A new life begins now
— April Resnick
The Birth of Venus by Eduard Steinbruck
My walls are stripped bare
Nothing now but the occasional nail
Where my personality was once hanging there
My choices, my passions, my preferences shared
Now I stand here exposed
Should I bear this weight without any of those
Is that what you want, a pale neutral coat
To calm your anxiety, is complete boredom enough
With my (he)artwork gone look closer and see
The scrapes, marks, imperfections still all over me
Perhaps you could paint what you want me to be
Would that ease your nerves, no trace of me being free
Just be careful while fixing me and making me yours
Those nails and hooks bite, they crave any color
You must be quite careful while trying to cure
My abstract desires dripping down to the floor
The loved ones you think you are saving
By wanting me drab, rearranging
Were quite happy when I was not plain
We inspired each other while out of the rain
Maybe it’s best if you move in with us
Keep this rooftop in place with your own sturdy truss
Making sure I display obligation and dust
This home could be yours without any fuss
Then again perhaps not, stay away from these walls
I’m re-hanging my magic, it belongs down these halls
You should not be here unless you quite have the balls
To embrace me, heavy color, honest art, lace, and all
— April Resnick
Smile, Mixed Medium on Canvas, by Ben Slow and George Morton Clark
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