It's the first thing I look for.
It still marks time.
It keeps my eyes off plastic grocery bags
splayed on a barbed-wire fence.
More wind might send them flying
to a gray cottonwood's web.
I'll remember when I lay sleepless,
hearing that first gust shatter the dark.
Unseen sun glazes mesas and mountain
with rose, coral, golden taupe.
Counting each color,
I almost don't see
hearing that first gust shatter the dark.
Unseen sun glazes mesas and mountain
with rose, coral, golden taupe.
Counting each color,
I almost don't see
the boy without a bike helmet
careening downhill.
What started out as a hodgepodge of images from my morning walks turned into a poem, the first I've written for a while. It's not too profound but I view it as more of an exercise that helped me relax and create some metaphors for my emotions and the "gist" of some personal concerns.
This past year has taught me some difficult truths about the complexity of dealing with emotional challenges. I can't "plug" someone into a formula and expect a tidy result. I can't force anyone to heal. At the same time, I don't want to foster chronic dependence or shield anyone from the fallout of choices freely made.
How to achieve balance? I hope I've hit my lowest point and can view others with a greater compassion, especially when natural consequences must take their course. Sometimes I have to walk away from things beyond my control and let desert solitude drain the tension away.
How to achieve balance? I hope I've hit my lowest point and can view others with a greater compassion, especially when natural consequences must take their course. Sometimes I have to walk away from things beyond my control and let desert solitude drain the tension away.
Parenting is a delicate dance.
Copyright Jan. 22, 2012 by Nani Lii S. Furse
