Hummingbird mama —
abandons her nonviable eggs
but keeps checking back
a few more times, just to be sure.
Arms fall off a saguaro,
break open on the ground
like fragile eggshells —
after years of desert still-life
a few seconds of death-motion.
But the night breeze is so beautiful
those breezes are — so beautiful,
it’s hard not to get swept away.
In my head —
I’ve tried a million
times to go back
to that day —
tried to change
my choices
begged a do-over
from the universe
I’ve crippled myself with
guilt
sorrow
thrashing the quicksand
sinking in
layers of grief
fighting a sticky web
trapped in
regret-regret-regret
I don’t even care about
my own
broken heart
I’m sorry
I broke yours
Regret is the glue that makes grief stick around for a lifetime.
It is said that the body will heal itself of most things, if we will allow it to do so and not overburden it with remedies — the same is true of the soul and the heart.
For want of wings
we have been earthbound,
but hearts and dreams soar!
scrambled blackout poetry created from Rafe Martin, Birdwing, 2005,
Let go —
Open the cage of mind
Let the grief out
Reach for the health and peace
growing outside the cage —
Yes! Now’s the time.
scrambled blackout poetry created from Rafe Martin, Birdwing, 2005, page 135
Grieving makes us stronger
It gives us a spirit of grace
And the grace of spirit
Our hearts feel weaker
But living past loss is
the ultimate courage
We honor our loved ones
by living on despite,
and all the more because.
It’s not that the people
with nice shiny attitudes
have not been banged up—
but they buff out their
dings and scratches with
gratitude and positivity,
perspective and grace,
resilience and courage,
with purpose and faith.
The pᖇ!@%$ and the d!@#$ and the yayholes
Rudely driving round the big city streets —
Just avoid them and get yourself home safely
Ditch the memory and be happy in peace.
to cry is beautiful —
the beauty of one’s pain
leaving the heart
—blackout poetry created from Maud Casey, The Man Who Walked Away, 2014, pages 114–115
