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Her Path Of Scars (Haibun)

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Across her vulnerable path there are old scars. Disfigurements, some bigger than others, yet similar in color. A few are the remains of the same tragedy, now multiplying and adding to those festering lies she whispers to herself daily. Tracks you’ll find as you begin to travel over her essence. The lies she encourages herself to believe guide her day. These defining untruths continue to slide through her thoughts in an effort to ruin her spirit, until you find a way inside her mind.

Life begins to grow, as you navigate within her arduous attempts at disbelief. A primal power you possess as her guide in this fight. Verdant leaves found full of color and sprinkled throughout her path react to your light, then grow and allow for clarity and healing to finally begin. The solution she never saw as her possibility now renews her strength. This an event you can take pride in, as it is you who has fed her daily. She, now your light, is devoted. Finally, once again, she believes in truth, love and authenticity.

The scars are still there, as you run yourself across her core, however they don’t define her anymore. Each tragic event has been honored. She trusts your hands, loves you, and with all that she is, needs you to be yourself completely. Importantly, she is a body of scars, but they have healed with the help of your interest and devotion. Your love, that lives inside of her now, is a blessing.

Beauty of nature
Submission Empowerment
Rooted in belief

Undesirable Request

Silence is the result of what you’ve requested
Requested and desired are two different directions
Directions are explicit commands I submit to freely
Freely is how I materialize for you in your dreams
Dreams are the light during my darkest time
Time is all I’ve ever asked for, bashfully
Bashfully is the only way I know how
How is the question that will continue a circle
Circle is the shape for the ring of promise
Promise is the agreement of pinky fingers
Fingers grasp tightly, an act of true love
Love rarely survives the quiescient sound of being dismissed
Dismissed hearts will never answer to silence
*****
I enjoyed trying this style originally found on Benjamin’s blog: The Breakdown of Taboo – Leftovers. Thank you, Benjamin, for the permission to give this poetic form a try.

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Work Place Blog Hop

I’ve been asked to participate in a work place blog hop by our friend, John W. Howell. I know many of you already know him and find as much delight in his creative ways as I do. Have you purchased Johnny’s novel My GRL yet? You should, if you’re a crime fiction fan of any sort. He’s on my TBR list, but I fear he’s beginning to question the truth behind that admission. I adore his short stories and weekly haiku, as well. He has the best sense of humor and often brightens my day so stop by and say hi, if you can. This hop was created to showcase a writer’s writing space. You can read his post here.

Please excuse the photos, I couldn’t be bothered waiting for the sun to go down. I don’t want to keep John waiting any longer. I’ve missed out on a lot being gone a few days. Thanks for asking me to add my space and for being patient with me, John.

Welcome to my work space:

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Work Place when somewhat tidy.

My desk is found in the corner of two white walls, as white calms my thoughts. Everywhere else, I have loads of color, believe it or not. Do you see my gorgeous brown Gnome with red sunglasses and orange cone hat? He’s been through a lot, but still keeps me company. I’m pretty sure he used to play a lot of jazz. Bass, hopefully. My Kansas State University mug reminds me that I once partied, a lot. A mirror to remind me that I’m not perfect. For me, headphones are a must, as some of you already know. This apple computer station keeps my music running, internet feeding and allows for a large screen on days when I need to properly watch a blog video, like Duke’s weekly Ripping Movie Reviews.

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Maxine and Dotzie

This is the corner behind the desk. When I can, I love to keep the blinds and windows open for clean air and light, but it didn’t work when I tried to take a picture earlier. Apparently, there’s too much light to be had during the afternoon at this angle. Anyway, this is the growing station for two of my most beloved plants. The bigger lily is named Dotzie and the smaller one, Maxine. Dotzie is ten years old. Maxine is twenty-two years old. They were both given in condolence when grandmothers passed away. I keep them close, and only speak to them when I’m cleaning their leaves. They don’t mind being named after dead grandmothers. Both have been near death a few times, but somehow keep coming back. I was given Maxine at an age when nothing should have stayed alive in my care. Somehow, we both survived high school and then college.

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Staged messy desk… ;)

This is how my space looks most of the time. Well, when I have an opportunity to take over the space and stay awhile, that is. My phone, laptop, and Apple computer are all plugged in and being used in some fashion while in writing heaven. Okay, so a few more papers are generally being tossed around, but I tried to tidy up a bit.

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Sitting behind the wheel searching my mind for the perfect word.

In all honesty, when I’m posting a poem, this is what I’m looking at, if my poem is written in the morning. I have some time to listen to music while driving to work, then I take a moment to clear my thoughts before starting my day, which then produces a poem. Staring at this steering wheel might be a source of inspiration, but my guess is that the car’s seat holds me just right. Nothing better than being held just right, you know.

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Work Place most days…

During the school year I become super busy and miss a lot of opportunities to write at a normal desk. I’m often running from place to place, and usually arrive early, which allows for some typing on my Samsung Note while waiting in the car. I do my best to get my writing in every day, even if that means sitting in my car in a parking lot. Teachers wear many hats.

It’s a perfect day when I can write outside and enjoy a finishing view like this one.

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My evening view and sunset spot.

Now for my, as John says, Tagees:

Staci

Kate

Heather

Neha

Beth

Shari

Amy

Cleo

Morgan (Who, I know is currently on leave, but couldn’t leave her out ♡♡ Keeping she and her family in prayer.)

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Miracles

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As if my clouds had warned specifically
Life does not end in a single breath
Have faith in Him and honor His test
Sit still, believe miracles happen daily

***
Update on Dad:

Initially, Dad refused treatment, further testing and our pleading words. The idea of him not taking the opportunity to try medical advancement was devastating news. Who makes that choice? A stubborn cowboy who doesn’t believe in doctors, I guess, maybe, someone unsure of what the fight will look like, and I can easily identify with that fear.

Eventually, Dad agreed to take the next step and was transferred to another hospital in Denver. I like to think he knew how much his refusal of treatment was affecting us and wanted to ease our pain, but I believe the support of my three siblings being with him through each step gave him the confidence to move forward. I understand, there’s a process that goes along with hearing such terrifying news. We tried to be patient.

Dad is surprisingly well, and it has been determined that he has less than Stage 1 Lukhemia.  His body has reacted to the initial procedures and medication and the blood results are amazing.  They are recommending that he do six months of chemo just to be sure all has been eliminated. Dad has agreed to do chemo twice a month and it’s a very low dose of treatment. This means no loss of hair or sickness, so business as usual for him, eventually.

Dad is home from the hospital and the pneumonia that put him there, due to low immunity, is under control. Had he not come down with pneumonia we would’ve gone much longer without knowing that he had Lukhemia, as it had been just short of 50 years since he’d seen a doctor for anything. Early detection saved his life. Our family is blessed.

So now…me and why I haven’t been around or writing. The highs and lows of it all had me so confused. I roll my eyes at myself, as I consider Dad’s emotions. I think shifting from horrid news to elation so quickly had me shocked.  Frozen, even. I took a few days to sort my feelings. How does this happen? Who cheats cancer like this? A blessing I cannot even wrap my head around, yet I know it is all God’s doing. Prayers were answered. We continue to pray that the chemo rids his body of anything that remains.

I think I’m back…maybe. Smiles.

The support I’ve received from y’all is humbling. Last week’s poetry was full of beautiful and loving comments and I thank you. Your emails proving your devotion continue to make me smile. Thank you…

The Greatest Man poem was the first poem I wrote after getting the call from my sister last Friday afternoon. It is now one of my personal favorites, as my Dad has proven to me that he continues to be my hero. I’m thankful that he realizes how much I do need him and how relieved we are that he is willing to fight cancer for himself and his family.

The Giggling Siblings poem was the night before some major tests. (defining the stage) I love looking back at that snapshot of our family pulling together and smiling. (Even if they were making fun of me…) All of us fearful of the news we’d eventually receive as the results came through in the days to follow, yet calmly waiting and diverting that fear with some giggling.

The result is a stronger bond, which none of us thought possible, as we’re already each other’s best friends. Maybe now, however, Dad understands how deep our love for him goes.

 

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Windswept

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Designed with a delicate wind in mind,
He simply fans above her slight champaign,
To witness a view of her compass weaving.
Stronger than anticipated, she sways,
Fawning into undeniable forces,
Feeling luxuriously windswept.

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So It Seems

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The beauty of variegated boulders,
And fraile, yet thriving Aspen trees,
Have the ability to center me.
Remind,
Provide clarity,
And inspire,
An often times amoebic lady.
The sprinkling of wild flowers?
Proof that I’m not alone,
So, I allow them to cover me.

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Giggling Siblings

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A photo received this evening
Via Assholes, it seems
Giggle worthy, I believe
Siblings, teasing me
Oldest Sister always clouding
Viewing and capturing daily
Poetic puffs of creativity
Eleven floors up, they see
A spectacular moon beaming
Redheaded Sister will envy
A moon over the Rockies
Pay no mind to the glaring
It’s sparkling somewhere brightly
None of us can accept or believe
Our father has Cancer, weeping
But humor’s alive and well, Roomies
Oldest Sister is finally, giggling
Hospitals can be so very boring
Tease Dad for flirting with Nurse “Nelly”
And let this Cloud Poetess be
*wink*

*****

Yes, we received the worst news this weekend. Dad has Lukhemia. We’re all shocked and terrified, but he finally agreed to attempt treatment. Praising God this evening. My three siblings are with him in Denver and I’m in Houston. What a bummer. I am staying positive. I have to, you know.

In true family style…we try to keep smiling. I love you Big Brother, Middle and Baby with all my heart. Love this Father of ours so very much, however, the next time I see you guys I’m gonna kick your asses. I cannot believe y’all sit around and make fun of my cloud pictures!! How rude! ;) ;) ;) Man, do I love you!! *giggles*

(Yes, my first reaction was to reply by calling them Assholes, so I did. They pissed themselves laughing. ..I do not apologize.  Haha!)

Oh, and a few more pictures they sent me this weekend. For your viewing pleasure:

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They literally have laughed me to scorn! :)
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This is complete cloud coverage, y’all. (See, I’m completely justified in calling them assholes, I think.) :D

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Crimson Vision

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Passion’s window opens
To dusk off the water
And you on my lips

Finding sleepy hazel eyes
And fairytales disguised
As moments of mortal bliss

Opportunity, finally recognizing
A crimson vision, in bright lustful color
Grasping at an evening unlike any other