Watching the sun

Set beyond human’s reach

Saying goodnight

To a day that began

With promises of treasures

Joy and light

Now the time has come

To say goodnight.

Wishing the day could

Last forever

But the sun can be cruel

And tear apart

A joyful friendship

Of light and sweet

Lashing away

Paper thin skin.

Sweet daylight

You’ve served your purpose.

A bridge to the West

Now is time to rest.

Sunset.

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This poem is dedicated to…well, it’s pretty obvious.

Picking fights with people
While gutting the constitution
Tossing gas on flames
Giving no resolution.
Giving all the finger
And robbing the nation blind
Scapegoating those without power
Pushing progress with rewind
Such a horrible man
Lucifer would be so proud
You dismiss all the truth
And fire up your crowd
With fairytales and nightmares
Some true and others fake
The blinded sheep trot after you
Destruction in your wake.

Heavy Downpour — Image by ¬© Anthony Redpath/Corbis

He’s filling a hole

Where the rain came in

When he wasn’t looking

Now he feels whole.

A day goes by,

the paint’s not dry

The rain is pouring down.

He’s filling same hole

With aimless causes

Hoping the rain stays out

Now he feels whole.

A year goes by,

the rug’s not dry

The rain keeps pouring down.

He’s filling the hole

With holy good vibes

Hoping the rain will stop

Emptiness eclipses whole

A lifetime goes by

The spirit is dry

 

Tonight I lit my 3 wick lavender candle and began my 291st yoga session. Twice a week I indulge in Yin Yoga which is a gentle, restorative style of yoga that allows the body to ease into poses through the use of gravity and stillness. Holding poses for 3-5 minutes and breathing deeply makes the practice meditative,and soothing. I discovered a good yoga instructor on YouTube called The Yoga Ranger who has excellent Yin Yoga classes that meet my needs. During tonight’s practice, she prefaced a particular pose as being challenging. I was gearing up to meet the challenge with my usual gusto when I saw the pose and realized it was not a challenge for me anymore.

Years ago when I suffered a knee injury that limited my mobility, the pose, half saddle, was an uncomfortable challenge. Instinctively I knew the pose was going to make my recovery better, so I would work the pose regularaly to increase the mobility in my knee and leg. Fast forward to the wonderful journey I’ve been enjoying for 291 days. I dropped into the pose with little effort and a sense of wonder.

When the world seems out of control and the constant bombardment of negativity clouds the senses, I find comfort on my mat. When I would practice 2 or 3 times a week, I felt yoga was a chore turned treat when the session finished. Practicing yoga everyday is a wonderful treat. I get to challenge my body and mind everyday.

Namaste

Picking scabs until they bleed

Picking the scabs to fill a need

To feel something real

Happiness escapes you

As the hard protective crust of nature

Crumbles into your badly bitten nails.

Validation comes when the wound is wet.

Acceptance comes when the wound looks hot to touch.

Fever below the never ending weep

Of blood and pus.

Look at me!

I’m injured.

Cry for me!

I’m in pain.

My century old wound

Needs to be licked.

There’s value here…

Or not.

Innocent, young eyes

Tenative elocution

Expressing disappointment

In crushed expectation

A thank you and a smile

Was all that was sought

But insensitive commentary

Was unexpectedly bought.

My pain in his eyes

I search in my sacks

For the right words

to patch up old cracks.

Sorry excuses

And a flimsy fairytale

are used as broken puppets

To mask an emotional hell.

This too shall pass

I say for his sake

As I silently cry

Over my heartbreak.

“Oh, you homeschool? How does it work? Does your teenager have to go to high school? What do you do? What do you teach?”

If I had a nickel for every time I had to endure this questioning, I would be a rich woman. Initially, I felt the need to explain. I felt compelled to have to explain myself. Sometimes I felt I was soothing their fears for my children. A quick resum√© of my education, my degrees, my teaching experience, and my philosophy seem to quell the fear in some while sounding like bragging to others. Any hesitation in explaining my plans for my children’s future seems to appear I don’t have a clue of what I’m doing while in reality I have a half of dozen ideas rambling around my mind at any given time because what people don’t understand is that homeschooling is a fluid way of life.

I don’t school at home. I homeschool. There is a difference. The difference in the two make traditionalists clutch their pearls with anxiety. If some governmental agency isn’t dictating what I do on any given day, then I must be leading my children to ruin. If some religious institution isn’t sanctioning my curriculum, then I must be doing something wrong. If someone who is perceived as an authority figure is not issuing my books or checking my children’s work, then I must not be giving my children a quality education.

Ridiculous.

Homeschooling is as old as civilization. The brick and mortar method of schooling where children are divided by age and expected to think, learn, and succeed at the same time and pace as everyone else while responding to a set of bells is fairly new in human history. My children have a 2 to 1 relationship with their teacher. They have a teacher who would go to any length to make sure they succeed. She doesn’t waste time on busy work and worksheets. She teaches lessons and shows how these lessons apply to real life. She also teaches lessons that she explains are important to know to succeed in higher education.

Sometimes I believe people are afraid to live outside the box. I’m not talking about living in mayhem and hoping for the best. I’m talking about walking down another road to get to the same destination.

So I bear the questions while quietly swallowing my annoyance.

These are the 5 places I will patronize if there were no other choices available.

  1. Subway
  2. Carl’s Jr.
  3. Macdonald’s
  4. Burger King
  5. Weinerschnitzel

Bespeckled Shade

Holds in hand

An instrument

That severs

Years of strife

A shadowy life

Joined under a bleeding

Shepherd of tormented souls.

Joined by a man

Of cloth and bone

Bestowing blessings

Divinely raised

Later dashed

In a hotel room.

No reason or rhyme

Brought to a moment

Where, “sign here”

Sounds like an angel’s harp.

The three songs that resonated with me today on my radio.

Faith by George Michael

No Woman, No Cry by Bob Marley

Young Turks by Rod Stewart