Magnolia Surprise

Now that I'm home from an extended stay at the hospital, I continue with my morning rituals along with new ones from the doctors. First, I flick the remote to release the shades. I see a gorgeous blue sky with billowy clouds greeting me. While I cannot feel the warmth of the sun shining, I appreciate nature's gift. Later in the day, I will slowly walk around the patio to admire my flowers and magnolia trees. Until then, I shall stare at the photo of the first magnolia bud my husband sent me while in the hospital.

one single bud

sends vibrations of joy

spring's corsage

©CVarsalona, 2024

Photo by RVarsalona, 2024

The opening of Joy Harjo's poem, Eagle Poem, is a tribute to nature offering me much-needed quiet reflection before bed.

To pray you open your whole self

To sky, to earth, to moon

To one whole voice that is you.

READ the rest of the poem HERE.

May is nature's breath of freshness.

Breathe in the essence of spring.

Like me, build yourself self-care rituals and routines.

 

Michelle Kogan, the poet-artist is hosting with garden delights and a birthday bash. Several poet friends are celebrating their birthdays, including Michelle, so I wish them wonderful birthday greetings. Please read the various posts gathered for the Poetry Friday Roundup besides Michelle.

By the way, my youngest granddaughter was one this week. I did get to spend time watching her eat her birthday breakfast. Attached below is the digital card I made for her.

REMEMBER

This week life came full circle. Both a new birth and a passing from life occurred in my family. While contemplating how life meets at crossroads, I turned to poetry to let thoughts surface like spring blooms. Coincidentally, my friend Ramona Behnke wrote a post sharing Poet Laureate Joy Harjo's poem Remember. It touched me so much that it became a mentor text for a silent conversation poem between my 94-year-old uncle and me during his last days in hospice. Because I live in Virginia and he is in Central NY, I could not travel to his bedside. The poem became my way of honoring his life.

Joy Harjo has said, "Poetry is like singing on paper". I celebrate my Uncle John's life through verse with the hope that he is spiritually close by listening to the lines.

Remember. . .

Remember the beginning as your mother cradled you into this world.

Remember receiving your father's name.

Remember your patriotic duties during wartime.

Remember your return to civilian life and stepping into college and a new career.

Remember your flights around the globe.

Remember your devotion to family and faith.

Remember your heritage and the delicious meals your mother prepared.

Remember your challenges and joys.

Remember your independent spirit and your willingness to support others.

Remember your nimble fingers creating crosses made of palms.

Remember your niece holding your hand and your family sending thoughts and    

     prayers from a distance. 

Remember your brother and sisters who are waiting to embrace you in eternity.

Remember the Lord is with you in your silent moments.

Remember!

©CarolVarsalona, oldest niece, written during John's final days at Francis House, 2023

These poetic lines from Harjo's poem remind me of the immensity of the world, the possibilities it holds for each individual, and the celebration of life. 

Remember you are this universe and this

universe is you.

The above poem will be featured in my Uncle's funeral program and read by m eat the gravesite next week. Now, I offer this post for Poetry Friday at Patricia Franz's blog, Reverie. She is celebrating 40 years of marriage and sending Memorial Day weekend wishes to all. Thank you, Patricia for accepting my poetic offering so late.

My antique postcard above reminds me to fill this Memorial Day Weekend with praise for my uncle, a veteran of World War II who enlisted in the Marine Corps at a young age.

His memory and the memory of so many other veterans are remembered throughout this weekend. 

☆☆☆☆☆☆

Patricia Franz invites the Poetry Friday community to enjoy some poetry-bathing this weekend. I look forward to reading other poet friends' poetic offerings.

☆HAPPY POETRY FRIDAY☆

and

Heart Sense

Valentine's Day, a day filled with love, is coming soon. My family celebrated early since the little grandgirls were with us for five days. There was a good deal of heartfelt love spread around during the grandparenting sitting time. 

The little grandgirls bubbled with happiness from the moment they entered. Love was in the air during conversations. Hugs and high fives were exchanged and imaginative play offered time to observe loving interactions. Even the girl's dollies got their share of love. Hearts were full. 

Using Joy Harjo's poem For Keeps as a mentor text, I pen a poem for the little girls. Soon, it will be tucked into their valentine cards and placed in the little mailbox we decorated for Valentine's Day. 

Morning sun opens a new day.

We listen for the birds.

None are heard. 

The house is warm and cozy,

This is where I want to be,

Close to you, sharing love.

At night's edge, we say goodnight.

Love surrounds us. 

Twinkling lights on the

little Charlie Brown tree glow.

I urge both of you

to stop talking,

listen to the night.

"Hush", I whisper

knowing that dreams will surface

and we will be one

for keeps.

©CV, 2022, draft

💗

Thank you, Elisabeth Norton for hosting Poetry Friday and leaving a light on so I can sneak in and place my post among the others in the community.

Around My Table

"The world begins at a kitchen table."

Joy Harjo, from Perhaps the World Ends Here

While Tropical Storm Isaias raged like a lion last week on Long Island, we spent four days huddled around our kitchen table grateful for hurdling another dark stormy event in our lives. The darkness and sweltering heat surrounding those days left my family and friends breathless, isolated, and far away from reality as we functioned without power, electricity, hot water, and the internet. Little did we know of life outside our neighborhood that was strewn with heavy branches fallen from massive trees. It was the kitchen table that brought us together with electric candles as we talked and began the cleaning-out-the-freezer process. 

I think back on all the years the table served as a hub for family life and am grateful to have found Joy Harjo's poem to ponder. It became a catalyst for me to write using her line, "The world begins at a kitchen table," as a prompt. Her poem is full of the beauty of kitchen life. At the end of October, my family will leave our Long Island home of thirty-eight years for a second chapter of family life. My table memories will fill my life with joy.

We start each day in our hub, the

kitchen, with a revolving world

of conversation. Life begins

with a daily gathering at

dawn where a  

litany of thoughts flow from the kitchen.

Evenings sing of gratitude around our sturdy table,

washed with years of joyful and sorrowful tears.

©CVarsalona, 2020, Long Island

I missed Poetry Friday last week due to the storm but am happy to backtrack and connect with my writing friends. Connections are important in this world during quarantine life because they keep spirits high. Thank you to my poet friend Laura Purdie Salas who was last week's host. She has an original poem and a wonderful, information graphic on "Why aren't you writing a poem?" Although I am late to join the roundup, I feel that this poem needed to be written and sent out.

A new kitchen waits for me here in Virginia.