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Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Day #90: Building a Manuscript

#90
Bye-bye, March.  

I am posting for the sake of beauty, I am intentionally surrounding myself with beauty.  This is my commitment to myself tonight.  I have been blogging for 90 days, posting a photo of the day.  I love the intentional act of doing so, even if I don't always know whether it makes sense to my followers.  It is the photo that is the core.  And the text is the support.  I am thankful for this act, this act of reaching out each day.  Tonight, besides today's photos, I will post 2010 photo of the day and a poem that I am working with. I have begun the process of pulling together a poetry manuscript while I develop the adoption book so that I don't lose my poetry.  Like the photography, the poetry is a form of communicating my life.  

Today is day #90 and day #1 of building a manuscript.
3/31/2010
This is Day #90 of 2010.  It was taken in E. Longmeadow or S. Springfield outside a doctor's office where my friend was being treated for Lyme.  She was just getting worse and worse.  I remember looking at the manicured lawns of this building and thinking we had entered into a whole new world, that it had no connection to W. Massachusetts at all.  There was green grass, which we had not seen in almost 6 months.  I felt the whole experience of trying to find help for my friend and stop the deterioration of her body and find a way out of her excruciating pain was surreal like manicured green grass in March.


A holy vigil
Friends surround the one
entering the new plane.
Chant
Sing
Prey,
hold hands,
wash dishes,
make meals.
Read,
get air,
take a walk.
Psyches and egos
take a break
shrink for a time.
Let heart
let energy
unidentified
fill the space
around the deathbed
fill the chest cavities
take over from
the concrete world.

I knew what it was like to fly
For only seconds
Three at the most
But my soul was joined by yours
And I followed you
Out of the room
Soaring out to Sugarloaf.

I stopped
You flew on
Joined the hawks.

At that moment
I knew my God.



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