The fragment of weak light just barely revealsa moment of hope buried within me—tucked away ‘til spring pushes forth the earth.Bits of green disrupt the barren ground, forbeneath the surface, growth was happening.We just couldn’t see what we alreadyknew to be true: the best is yet to come. A season of slumber must cover the…
Tag: poet
An earthly cry
A lament to the flowers that didn’t bloom: I planted some seeds that didn’t germinate.Nothing materialized at all.The soil seemed good enough,the conditions ideal.But, there were no light green tendrilsstretching toward the sun.Just disappointment. Fatigue. Worry. Scorn.A bitter earth. I planted more seeds,initially they were strong.But they also failed miserably.From delicate new budsto a shriveled…
Musing No. 2
When you lay under a treeAnd look up,What do you focus on?Is it the sky, the clouds, the branches, the leaves?Do you position yourselfIn such a wayTo see or to be hidden?Do the sun’s rays catch your faceOr do the shadows grace your cheek?Do you notice the air aboveOr the ground below?Are the bumps in…
Book Review: Bite by Bite
I was enamored with Aimee Nezhukumatathil ‘s book of essays World of Wonders a few years ago when I was gifted a copy, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants style. I was encouraged to read the book, then write a little note in the front cover and pass it on to someone who I thought would…
Change
If you sit still as daylight wakes and pause,expand your lungs with air sweet, full of peace—moments, time stands still you almost forgetwhat it was to you, the meaning of life.And yet in a breath suddenly it’s clear:a life lived well gives forth life abundantSuch shame to waste a minute. Time’s no thief. The sun…
Open call – closed to your submissions
“Open call for poetry,”the zines and mags announce emphatically.“We want you, we need you,trust us with your words.”They aren’t lying, they aren’t false,but the actual requirements tell a skewed story;dry prose in small print which dulls your dreamsand drags you back into the realitythat it is unlikely that you,the writer of poetry,will likely be a…
Centered
The obligatory end of the year blog post reflection. I REALLY waited until the VERY end of 2023 to get this done. In part, because I’ve been convalescing from hip surgery (torn labrum/impingement repair), but to be honest, I’ve just been avoiding looking back or forward. This year has felt a bit out of control…
Coming Home
There’s an understandable mix—a collection of feelings: a burst of joy, a sigh of relief,a pang of regret, a whisper of trepidation. We go away, but then come to:A return journey or a fresh start—perhaps both. We may venture to a familiar place,but that doesn’t mean we’re traveling in reverse. The sands of time continue…
Growing Pains
When moms don’t answer phones Somehow It adds insult to injury I’m an adult I don’t need to be parented I just Need my parent. She’s busy, Working, gardening, reading, sleeping. She’s an adult. Adults just have to do things. I just have to make decisions. On my own. But I don’t want to. I…
Away
If I never left I could not understand contentment. For being away is the only way to come home. Then when I stay and wait, the journey feels a gift. Without one, I can’t truly love the other, Travel: ‘tis a most ingenious paradox Cue the music. Book the trip. Go away. 8.12.22 | SDG
L.M.Beatty 