Category Archives: Relationships

Beyond the Veil

Beneath the willow’s weeping bough we stand,
Where shadows lengthen in the dying light,
Your memory carved deep within this land,
A beacon burning through eternal night.

Though death has claimed your mortal frame from me,
My heart remains forever bound to yours,
Like ancient oak roots drinking from the sea,
Our bond transcends these temporary shores.

The seasons turn, yet still I keep the flame
Of promises we whispered long ago,
No grave can hold the power of your name,
No winter wind can make my devotion slow.

In dreams you walk beside me through the years,
My loyalty flows deeper than these tears

Celebrate

The griefs are many

but find value in truth that:

Each breath

Each heartbeat 

Each moment celebrating

Each of those

Is a courtship of death.

By embracing 

THIS breath

THIS heartbeat 

THIS moment of joy

Is a nod of recognition 

To infinite mystery

Blazing celebration

Our age is known

By the buried bones

Of our bloodline

Reflected in chosen heritage

And the legacy of their love.

Survival Safety

It is safe to play with the darkness again.

To coax it out from underneath the basement stairs.

To enthrall the dust from the bone filled closet.

To embrace the shadow that lurks beneath pallet.

The darkness loves to cuddle with the little self

reassuring the little, that learning deep truth

creates a Tower, crumbling accommodated fears

Darkness births wisdom from soul insults and betrayal.

The little’s shadow begs grief for the heart song abducted

Begs sorrow for the wounds caused by caustic demolition

caused by atrocities witnessed, experienced, coerced

The Darkness beseeches with terrified shrieks

anxiously imploring for tenderness and compassion

among the surplus of debris once cherished

Sermon of lies

On the knees of submission 

Hard on the floor

The sin of omission 

A morality score

Prayer hands clasped tightly

Like folding chair pews

Hymns resound violently

Long-sleeved black and blue

Submit to your husband

Follow his lead

Open your thighs

to embrace his seed

If life springs forth

from your virgin womb

raised the red, white, and blue

over a gifted soldier’s tomb

If your life becomes sacrifice

respond to what you allow

remember your promise,

remember your vow

Obey all the rules

follow the commands

Do as your told

Do not give demands

You’re less than a fetus

but more than you should be

tone down your laments

while living hypocrisy

I’m an animal!

I started out as a Mare

A pirate loudly aging

But I soon became an otter

Clinging to my people

Handle to handle

I turned into a fish

Overturned yellow tube

This was unintentional 

I scaled rocks 

Ducking under a sunken branch

Finally back on my trusty steed

I was a floater

Landing in dead pools 

With big rocks and shallow water

Butt’s up was flowing over

Rapids that jostled rapidly 

Happily lapping at the shore

Without good position,

I transmogrified into a T-Rex

Short little arms no water could reach

Neither could any feet 

I magically became a turtle

Floundering on my back

Finally in the flow again,

Mostly sunny haint blue skies with

Partly cloudy wispy white

Lava-floe sun shrieking hotly

A hawk and a turkey buzzard

Circle the sky at different altitudes 

I think out loud, “Ah, what a metaphor for my life.”

Chaos ensued, shenanigans had,

I laughed at myself in genuine mirth

I essentially stuttered downstream 

One challenge to the next victory 

How deeply grateful am I to learn

How I move in the depths 

And handle the shallows 

Ending up beached; engineering solutions 

As I concluded the journey 

I reverted and emerged, once again, Mare, but better for the experience.

Four years

A funeral is a condensed soup of stories

a testament to how they moved through the world

honoring the human they are no longer

wish flowers blown free by a child’s breath

The absence of their laughter, wisdom, joy

is a sullen void of yearning

Haunting the rooms where they lived

with a sharp recognition of the hollowness

The mortality displayed on our own faces

The recognition of our fleeting contribution

Our role in the stone soup of life

Our own responsibility to love so loudly

that we echo through our children,

leak into the community with emboldened abandon

Cherish each gift of spent intimacy

whether it came neatly wrapped in shiny paper

or a hurried wrapping in Sunday comics

Who we are is a reflection of everyone we know

who we become is the distillation of their best parts

Miss Mabel, June 13, 2025

HNBR: Day 6

As we prepare to conclude our vacation, there is much that I need to chaw on for a while. Here are some highlights:

My Aunt Lizzy is one of the most beautiful women I know. Fresh from caring for her yard, she lives up to her shirt.

I couldn’t love this picture or I might explode.

This was our last hug before we left. What a treat to be with those hearts!

This naughty lady, bedecked in a pride collar and a satisfied expression had to be wrangled back into her home after taking advantage of friendly greetings and an open door. Ruby is a good girl.

My dad is on his front porch doing dad things.

My mom doing her thing.

Pegs and Jokers was introduced by my Aunt Helen and Uncle Lou a couple years back to my Rents. My mom and dad raved about it sharing how much fun they had. I got it for them for Christmas the same year. Tonight was the inaugural playing. My dad won.

Very intense concentration
Switched to Yahtzee! Old school box with the rules still in it. My dad got a Yahtzee, but Jen wiped the floor with all of us ending up with THREE Yahtzees!
She is the champion!
Dad came in at #2
Mom was a close #3

And then…

Last cow home.

8am comes a return to our regularly scheduled programming. This has been incredible. Lots of information to digest and process before I can sort through this beautiful, wonderful, farted up life. Bless this holy water..

HNBR: Part 4 of Day 4

On the back of the carriage seat we rode on through the Mackinac State Park, someone had placed an apt sticker. We knew what row we were in because of that.

We had 7 minutes to run over and look at this natural formation. The scientific reason for this phenomenon is erosion but the Indigenous story was much better. The beach down below was relatively quiet. It was quite a difference between the beaches in Portugal and Michigan’s. Our driver yelled Marco and we responded with Polo so we knew we had to get back to the tour.

I almost forgot this little beauty. At the butterfly conservatory, there was a terrarium out on the porch with a sign that read “Warning! Attack Turtle” only it was empty. We found out why when the guide at the Wings of Mackninac explained that she took this little tortise out with her when she went on lunchbreak so the newly found friend could enjoy a rich harvest of dandelions.

After we left the tour carriage, we walked down a steep hill. At the bottom of the hill, across from a large park, we found this church. The door was open. We agreed that going in as UU’s was rather obligatory. The hymns and readings were still up from Easter.

We found this directly across from the entrance. We took it seriously, quietly ushered ourselves in, sitting in a pew farthest from the door. A family was in there and the kids were making all sorts of uncorrected noise. After they left, we settled into the peace only to have two older women come in, sit at the back, and talk on their phones. We stayed until we’d looked up the hymns and readings.

Water dancing on the haint blue ceiling. Jen and I were lightly surprised to see such a cajun tradition carried on that far north.

For some reason, there are two signs for the Mackinac State Harbor. We got pictures of both.

I’m vibing with the wooden version of the sign, what about you?

This is one of my favorite pictures of Jen because I was making her laugh so hard she was literally doubled over. I’m not even sure what I was saying to her, but it sure did get her giggler.

A gigantic lilac bush that smelled utterly pure.

A bit of VanGogh brought to you by the Detroit Institute of Arts. It was just hanging around on the harbor path.

Beauty comes in so many subjective forms. These pretties were just hanging out in a field of grass we walked through.

I’m pointing to the seal and the letter M because…Mare.

The view from our room at the Cedar Hill Lodge.

HNBR: Part 3 of Day Four

A regular looking caterpillar turns themselves into goo in order to transform into a beautiful butterfly. We visited Wings of Mackinac which really was my favorite activity on the island.