Gratitude

Pain of War & Living

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flight sky sunset men

~VA Hospital, October 2019 (Thank you for your service)

 

These halls, these chairs, these walls
encasing whispered moans
and memories of wars
and those gone soldiers
that never made it home
to America, to sit here, to wait
on the doctor to see them
at the VA Hospital in Charleston.

I sit feeling, hearing the tones
of pain play like the keys
of a piano, dark and light —
Some pain a deep recessed dark.
Some pain a bright hard gash
of bright light open wound oozing
under the cover of wrinkled flesh
pale aged splotched skin
that holds the soldier of twenty
wrapped deep beneath the disguise
of age and time.

The waiting room of marbled browns
deep wood tone trim and calm colors
built to settle the mind and remove
the pain of war and living.

 

~Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

day of miracles 3/20/20

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Beach3620

The sandy beach gave me heart tokens
in stone and shell.

The sea gulls paraded their young before me
training flight as I gazed on the becoming.

The ocean washed sand away to show me
a giant shark tooth for my hand.

There was love and light and poetry flowing,
new books of beautiful verse for my heart,
a picnic lunch with my lover in the park.

There was a painted rock
in a flower pot with a painted heart and my
initial that was waiting for me to walk by.

There was a brave bird that introduced himself
and asked to share my cookie, and at my acquiescence,
he and his friends sang me love songs while they ate.

There was water rushing in the fountain
and a pen filling notebooks with poems.
There was sunshine and shade and shadow —

A breeze carrying the scent of blossoms my way
and a bench held me lovingly in sacred space.

There was love and life and flowing in me, around me,
with me. Leaves fell as Shams sang and Rumi danced.

There was a day of miracles … what more could I want?

 

 

~Photo Credit: Blue Ocean, Myrtle Beach State Park; (c)2019 Marissa Mullins 

Nellie

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white dove snip

white dove snip (Photo credit: oddsock)

Grandmother —
Title, position, duties.
I never knew you
wanted to travel,
went overseas once.
A missionary trip
you longed to make, and
you did. I never knew
this small truth of courage
until your funeral.

How did you carry that
cold-heavy weight
of us on your shoulders
all those years?

Those dark-strong hours,
spent taking care of everyone
as we grew into non-children.
Solicitude, sympathy, tolerance.
Love always the deepest river,
lessons of giving-over everything
almost; and then

there was your God,
some stories you’d written,
a few trips taken —
the talented individual you were,
but all we ever knew
to hold onto
was a name, a presence,
the designation —
Grandma, Momma, Nellie – Love.

~February 2012 

 

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