Expelling Ideas About The Present Moment

•October 1, 2012 • Leave a Comment

“I had plans today,”

groans through my head

as my stomach lurches.

I sit up in the dark

heat from the ceiling vent

heavy and oppressive around me.

Can I make it to the bathroom?

I stand

my stomach aches and warns me

I do not have very long.

The carpet hot and scratchy under my feet

 finally I find the cool smooth bathroom tile

RELIEF.

I kneel

the tile floor is no longer a friend

I grab a towel.

Even in the throes of nausea

I crave comfort

from crunching knees.

I wait for my stomach to react

again, again, again

and I think

“I have no control over this.  I am waiting for my body to have its way with me.”

I take a breath

feel it only slightly on my nostrils

I am distracted again by cramping.

I wonder if I can feel this and not suffer,

“Can I ‘mindfully’ vomit?”

Expel this weighty knot without disgust?

I even ponder my own death

the pain that is bound to accompany it,

                        “This is only a whisper.”

Again my stomach aches, lurches,

 sends me a warning shot,

                        I wait and wonder…

Posted in Body, Humanity, Meditation, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: , , ,

A Child’s Meditations

•September 18, 2012 • 2 Comments

Poem #1

As I Sit

in this

Quit rooM

Whith My

hed in the

Air I Jist Sit

Sit Sit

as I FOCiS

ON this

Pome.

–written by Leia Resnick

–transcribed by me as written

Poem#2:

As I run

in My

BraN I WoNdR

iF My

BraN WoNd

ever Stop to

taKe a Breth

it Shud.

–written by Leia Resnick

–transcribed by me as written

These poems were written by my daughter yesterday while sitting and waiting for me at my school.  She was in a quiet conference room by herself “coloring” and she brought these into me while I was meeting with my instructor.  She gave me permission to post them on her behalf.  She asked that I make it clear that these were two separate poems, and that they were about meditation.

 

Posted in Family, Meditation, Motherhood, Poetry, Whimsy
Tags: , , ,

You Stupid Girl

•September 14, 2012 • Leave a Comment

I am melting

My hands have dissolved

Only heavy wrists remain

The sinew and bone mix

With fleshy thick thighs

To create a lump

Of melded me

I cannot tell where

One appendage ends

Or the other begins

I lean towards the fusion

Wanting to be pulled

Completely into a gooey blob

Liquified

Until nothing is left

But stuff, and steam rising

My bitchy black hat alone and pointing

Posted in Body, Humanity, Meditation, Poetry
Tags: , , , , ,

I Remember…

•September 11, 2012 • 3 Comments

Turning the radio up

As I sat in my office with a patient

Thinking it was an awful accident

Getting the phone call

From the Airman at the front desk

“The Pentagon has been hit.”

Advising my patient to go, now.

Telling him to try to make it home

The base would be on lock-down

Calling my husband without hesitation

Knowing the lines would soon be too busy

Being grateful to hear his sleepy voice

Assembling in our disaster teams

In the basement cafeteria

Sitting at tables waiting and wondering

Getting the news privately from a fellow officer

That our fighters were scrambled

Another plane was headed in our direction

Praying each time I went to the restroom

“Don’t let me be in here when it happens,

Don’t let them find me in here.”

Feeling compelled to volunteer

Wanting to triage at the Pentagon

Being equally frightened that they may choose me to go

Calling my family

In the afternoon when things got quiet

Saying, “I am safe. I love you. Happy Birthday.”

Waiting in the hospital

Waiting for orders

Waiting for patients that never came

Finally driving home after midnight

Nearly running over an Airman, in his reflective orange vest

Traffic patterns on the base changed that day, and for years

Thoughts foggy and hands numb on the wheel

Wanting to cry with my husband

Not being able to

Watching television coverage

The following night

Finally sobbing uncontrollably

Escorting loved ones to the Pentagon

The silent somber bus ride

The police escorts, the salutes as we entered

Viewing the scorched building, earth, tree

The tree that still stood, half green, half blackened

The General who towered and comforted

Stricken faces with nothing left

Mementos left behind in remembrance

Leaving the only thing in my pocket, a military coin

The banquet hall full of pictures

Cards, letters, stories, grief

Doing what I could by being there

Feeling in some small way useful

Nothing else that week or month

To think of them

To be present in my life

Still

Posted in Humanity, Loss, Poetry

Inspired by Prayer and Investigation

•September 6, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Mantis in the middle of the living room floor,

Praying while gently carried out the front door.

My daughter thought it was lucky,

Could have been, “Oh fuck me!”

If not for my glasses it would have been no more.

A child’s day

Revolves around

Bugs

And their activities.

A fly’s buzzing,

landing, vomiting,

Tasting the world

With its feet.

A mantis bright

Green and praying

Turning his head,

An alien surveyor.

A swollen spider

Detecting movement,

Finds the struggling,

Rolls it, and saves it

For later.

A child’s evening

Revolves around

A bug book

And its explanations.

Posted in Motherhood, Poetry, Whimsy
Tags:

Who What Why

•September 2, 2012 • Leave a Comment

What is my identity?

I know only what it used to be.

It’s hard these days for me to tell,

What helps you think you know me well.

 

Who do we need me to be?

Though I cannot adhere religiously,

To titles that sum up so quick,

They change leaps and turns into one trick.

 

Human is all I know for sure,

Yet even that will not endure.

Young to old, alive to dead,

I think I’ll go eat my lunch instead.

Posted in Humanity, Identity, Poetry, Whimsy
Tags:

As It Happens

•August 26, 2012 • Leave a Comment

A formed and ready tooth

Barely protrudes through

An expectant gum line.

 

A palm reading declares

Greatness that turns

Fortune into a child’s prank.

 

A profound insight

Mingles with “needs a bath” stink

Carried on the frailty of a moment passing.

 

None of us are ready

For the lazing pre-Fall haze

To be over, I am swollen with it.

Posted in Family, Humanity, Loss, Motherhood, Poetry

Investigating

•August 25, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Peeling the nail polish off of my nails

Replacing each toilet paper roll

Garbage or flowers or notions of life

Or death, questioning scriptures of droll

 

Getting a sunburn and sand in the cracks

Washing granules away ‘cause they hurt

Heroes or villains on cardstock with colors

Thoughts drift out, sinking down through the dirt

 

Every day circles back onto itself

Noticing paths in the pasture or not

Swinging at annoyances, flies, gnats, and notions

Knowing the shower will stop being hot

 

Barking at doorbells that aren’t actually there

Wondering when they will finally call

Bladder is filling, so it’s time to get going

Staying here leads to piss on it all

Posted in Humanity, Marriage, Meditation, Motherhood, Poetry

Past Due

•August 19, 2012 • Leave a Comment

I am stuck

Have been calling it writer’s block

Incorrectly ignoring it

Like that stack of mail

Tilting precariously in the corner

It can certainly bankrupt me if left glued shut

Mundane molehill

Blocking the accomplishing of anything else

How many times have I started towards it

Picked it up and imagined tearing in

Then walked away

For fear of the price to be paid

So there it teeters

Gathering weight and momentum

As each day I add another layer of avoidance

Ignorance is not bliss

It holds havoc and wrecks my worth

Fuck the paper cuts and final payments!

FINAL NOTICE:

Your thoughtful addition in permanent marker cannot disguise the forgetting in the first instance…not then, not now.

It was not romantic or charming or silly to be reminded of our place…not then, not now.

Posted in Family, Loss, Poetry

I Notice That

•August 13, 2012 • Leave a Comment

The gum in my mouth has been chewed too long,

It slowly dissolves into little pieces that I accidentally swallow.

 

Ego is over-involved in most of my interactions,

Expectation hovers around everything and invades my patience.

 

Pets do not like sudden movements or sounds,

Or being accidentally stepped on.

 

People do not like sudden movements or  sounds,

Or being accidentally stepped on.

 

Bodies are often involuntary and far from glamorous

Their systems ensure that group meditation is never silent.

 

People walk differently in the rain

They lower their heads to avoid the drops, with or without an umbrella.

 

Our lives revolve around the next possibility of comfort

From gross, from anxiety, from surprise, from mortality, from weather.

Posted in Humanity, Meditation, Poetry

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