My dear friend Miss Sharon Crane gifted me with a little solar powered daisy that dances in the sunlight. I put it in the window that I stare out when I’m writing. All day long, each time the movement catches my eye, it’s made me smile. I wrote a short little poem about it.
Miss Sharon Crane’s gift to me brightened my winter scenery.
Oshun’s birthday was just a few days ago. After rereading this, I thought, what a lovely poem. Sometimes what I write comes as a surprise to me as much as it does to others.
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Just for today,
I will honor the knees at which I kneel
Taking preservation in wisdom dripped
From oceans of tears and millions of stars.
Just for today,
I will offer my actions without expectation
To those who suffer poverty in all ways
In their bodies, in their actions, in their spirits.
Just for today,
I will be grateful as I prepare my meals
Mindful of the preparation in my hands
Filling plates with sustenance, love, laughter.
Just for today,
I will hold a my tongue from anger
Keeping tolerance at the forefront of my mind
Defending against injustice with a considered heart.
Just for today,
I will hold the brothers and sisters of my spirit tribe
With compassion and kindness in the Light
That guides us to one another in graceful exchange.
Although this essay is lengthy, I hope that you’ll take the time to see into “The War Zone” that I watch around me.
This link will take you to an interesting article about poverty in America.
http://economichardship.org/peter-edelman-on-why-its-so-hard-to-end-poverty-in-america/
Let me preface the following piece with my current observation that although I’ve moved into a larger place in the same neighborhood and the characters (my neighbors) have changed names, the situations are as accurate now as they were then. There are several personal experience notes about myself that I included to show just how someone like me got into this situation. I do not write it with hopes of pity or a firm case of I’m-glad-it’s-not-me’s but to demonstrate how easy it is to fall between the cracks.
I have since been able to secure health insurance which has allowed me to take care of myself better, but the deductibles from my unemployed standpoint are just as daunting as knowing I have heaps of medical bills left over from when I didn’t have it. I…
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This is not Marge Swenson. This is my friend Alicia. I love this picture.
This is an abstract interpretation of the original picture, minus my friend Alicia. It was taken with my phone, so I apologize for the quality.
There she is with her cheeks shining diamond smiles
Her eyes laughing blue sparkles of periwinkle
She ripples with giggles that bubble fountain-like
Barely restrained by her excitement to honor her calling
I unquestioningly obey her request for open arms
I pull her close to me in spirit love and protection
Warmth and true affection.
“How are you today, my beautiful friend?”
She pushes me away but doesn’t release me
She looks up into my eyes declaring, “I love you, so much.”
We share mutual admiration, forever, for a moment.
I jest with her of how much I love to learn at her knee
To greet, to host, to welcome, to embrace our community.
She laughs at me as if I were the village idiot
I’m inept compared to her. She’s a Mistress of Greeters
I, her apostle.
When the torch is handed onward, I pray I can continue
To honor her beautiful spirit with jovial conviviality
That she displays with the grace of whispering breezes
The dance the spring time brings that blesses each blossom with life
In tandem with the warm embrace of the sun.
This is Marge Swenson. She’s one of my favorite people, hands down. She’s just lovely.
I don’t have to worry,
He remembers my name
He knows me by heart
And still loves me the same.
Mare Martell, 2015
I love to see your lumpy, bumpy bits that you hesitate to show.
I love your imperfections because I see you and know I’m not alone.
I love you when you cry in front of me apologizing for your tears.
I love those honest moments with your heart so crystal clear.
I adore you when you’re mad at me and you call my butt to task,
because being that authentic is all I’ve ever asked.
I love when you allow me to hug you with open arms so true.
But best of all, I love who you are and who I am when I’m with you.
Mare Trout Martell
Be still.
Think of it.
Remember them.
Allow the trees to educate you in the language they speak.
Be still.
Listen to silence.
Cherish truth.
Allow the ideas to drift like the white wisdom of dandelions on a breeze.
Be still.
A blank slate.
An empty canvas
Allow your ideas to bleed onto every surface with cleansing clarity.
Be still.
Hear your truth
Recognize your voice
Allow yourself to trust your own instinct that begs for recognition
Be still.
You are important.
You are worthy.
Allow yourself to remember your destiny in snapshots of faith.
Mare Trout Martell
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