A Complex Creature

Photo on 2018-05-10 at 7.23 AM #2

I wake and for some moments
possibilities of the day
speed through my mind
unravelling my body from pillows and duvet
proves to be more than an easy task
how did everything get so twisted about
I can see impressions embedded in the pillows

If we could only scan each impression
retrieving thoughts or dreams left behind
would that be good or not

With some bits of fancy legwork
I managed to free my body from the octopus bed
a small jump and I raise my arms
as if I had just completed a gymnastic routine
I can hear the crowds cheering me on
for a quick moment, I bask in my achievement and victory

Spinning back into reality
I follow the path of most mornings
I unscrew the espresso pot
pour water in one part
two scoops of coffee with a dash of freshly ground pepper
into part two
tighten part three
then turn the burner on

I walk back towards the bed
hand picks up the iPhone
I raise the phone and take a picture of the bed
same angle every morning
a project in process

The artist is a complex creature
eyes are like a camera
framing  and taking stills of nearly everything I see
being so aware can be exhausting

what if the artist is just a complex fleshy computer
our eyes connected to the clouds
allowing others to access everything we see and feel
being directed by more than one
could this be why?
when I look at my door
I see it in three  black and white stills
then I can visualize them framed and on a wall

skipping over to a short poem

then again a short film with feet walking
on a wooden floor towards that same door
watching it open
a shadow walks through it
The End  

IMG_7975

Is it just me
or, are there others
punching keys
giving me directions

Am I an artist
or just a
complex fleshy computer

Sitting here looking out the window and open door
hearing the birds trying to speak
above the sounds of commuter cars
my left ear has caught the sound of the refrigerator
it seems to sing like a voice in a tunnel
than abruptly is stops

The light in the room changes
as the clouds cover the morning sun
I take a breath of relief
for it’s the grey clouds that I seek
they calm my soul
like a memory embedded in my DNA
travelling clouds and crashing waves soothes me
listening to the rain
feels like home

🙂

All of this with only one cup of coffee and only 9am.

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The Quilt

Two lives intertwined
Years of words reviewed by the hearts
One falls ill
The other holds with a grip of love that will not be released
There is pure beauty present

A love so strong
How ever can that be wrong
Many will write a song

We must understand
The moment they woke each ones eyes are locked to the others soul
Another stitch is created on the quilt that created their life
Our world runs at a speed that does not encourage and rejoice in such love
To look into the eyes of our lover and feel completeness

It takes great courage to say the final words
They can not be rehearsed
They can not be scheduled
They just flow from our lips when it is right
They escape without our knowledge and can not be retrieved
For within that split second the soul is freed
We are then alone so very alone
All the air leaves home

The quilt remains——- —– —– —– —– —- —– —–

My post today was inspired by a stepdaughters mother and father in law. My attempt to write a poem of their love turned into my love. Makes sense for how would I have knowledge of theirs.

I have been in our home now for two months. There are hints of progress but mostly I have been hiding. I have become unreliable. When you can’t bear to hear more kind advice you just retreat into yourself. There is part of us that does not want to disappoint  others again and again. We understand their concerns truly we do. We just have no mental energy. The feeling of running away is a constant. If no one knows you then you can’t disappoint.
I don’t think that mourners like where they find themselves. It is something that has to be allowed to run through us so it will leave us washed and renewed. That is the hope anyway.

Walking around our yard I can feel the conversations we have had walking on the same grass. There are chairs in twos placed for different view of the reflecting pools and trees but I just look at them and remember. The other day as I was walking about I realized that not only was the property too large for me to care for but that it was too large for me to enjoy. Does that even make sense?

Perhaps I feel this way because I was gone for five years and have only recently returned. If you never leave your family home do you feel as I do? Or do you just continue on as before. I think you probably do. I have been living in others homes for five years. Now I’m here and i feel the same.

In two months it will be three years that I have been a member of the widow’s club. My hope and dream is that by the time I am a member for five years that I will be in my own personal home. Creating new memories of my own.
We are so alone
We fall back our body deflated lies on the floor
We can not breath no more

Our Quilt remains ————————

tamaya garner august 9 2015