Monday Morning Musings:
“My heart is a shadow,
a light and a guide.
Closed or open…
I get to decide.”
From Corinna Luyker, My Heart
“The people you love become ghosts inside of you, and like this you keep them alive.”
–Robert Montgomery See a photo of his text installation here.
Yet who whispers
in the summer-sweet night,
where the smell of storms lurk?
There beneath the diamond sky
to the music of life
pants just beyond the light
in the wind-spray of time.
I walk by the river park
baby geese and vultures
reminders of life and death
cycles like after harsh
winter, spring’s soft breath
caresses mind and soul
we want it all,
all the magic of water and air
the delight of light—
time to spare
to savor the young
remember the laughter
and all the songs sung
and the ones unsung
if we could go back—
trip words from tongue,
lost gestures and moments
rearranged in order, some semblance
of what could be
if or when
or what will it be, see
how life circles, the mom me
and she the one needing help
and she doesn’t see
well at all,
her vision diminished
unsteady, the mighty fall.
Once my daughter said to me
“remember when I hiccupped
inside your belly and you laughed?” See—
how do you explain these things?
Circles of life and death
and all it brings.
We try to stop time for a bit
eat pizza, drink wine
time to talk—and just sit
We watch a movie of ghosts and art,
a vulnerable woman
she opens her soul, her heart
is shadow-filled, she grieves
though she’s not sure she believes
but to create
one has to be open–
the muse, a mysterious state
perhaps there are spirits
or some other way of seeing
There is a place in my heart
where my father lives
and all my ancestors, too, a part
of my what? My essence, my soul,
the me-ness of me
the all-ness of all?
My mother grows old,
but somewhere in time
she is young, in a fold,
a pleat, a wrinkled web
flows and ebbs,
and perhaps ghosts call,
walk in shadowed paths
through my heart, they rise and fall–
hear them sigh
as up to the stars
they carry you, me—we fly.
We watched the movie, Personal Shopper on Netflix. Kristen Stewart is a personal shopper/medium grieving her dead twin brother–there are ghosts and references to the artist Hilma af Klint. I liked it. Watch it with someone because you will want to discuss it. I may have to watch it again. . .
And here is a bonus, if you haven’t heard this version of Paul McCartney’s “Blackbird” translated and sung in Mik Maq. I thought of this last night when I was thinking of birds and ghosts (and not quite dead languages).
Good morning, Merril! Favorite lines: “remember when I hiccuped
inside your belly and you laughed?” The photo caption is perfection!
Good morning, Marian! Thank you!
I love those two stanzas beginning “My mother grows old” —so tenderly observed.
Thank you very much. It was sad seeing her yesterday.
She has picked the best time of year for slipping, if she’s decided to let go.
I suppose so.
Though no time is ever a good time.
Simply wonderful, Merril.
Oh, I hesitated about watching that movie. Now shall have to 😉
Oh good. Then we can discuss. 🙂
If only “if we could go back—” … today I mused on someone I lost many years ago. There’s never a good time to let go, only a time when you have no choice. Thinking of you and your family with love.
I just read yours–so very moving. Thank you for your kind thoughts and words.
I appreciate how you’re sharing what you are going through with your mother. I imagine it’s difficult to write sometimes, but I hope it helps.
Thank you, Marie. I think this not going into too much detail, but still writing about it helps. In any case, right now if I’m “musing” about my week, it’s hard to avoid.
Loved this, Merril!
Thank you so much, Jill!
What a beautiful rendition of Blackbird.
The personal languages we speak with one another can also die. The experiences we share with someone. Today is always a melancholy day for me. The people I knew, and those also that I never had a chance to know.
Sending all the best to you and your family–this is a difficult time. (K)
Thank you so much, Kerfe. I’m glad you listened to the version of Blackbird. I thought it was beautiful, too. And you are so right about the personal language with speak with our loved ones. I’m sorry yesterday was a sad day of remembrance for you. Sending you hugs and good wishes.
The luscious language of your opening lines in particular has us entranced
Thank you so much, Derrick, for that lovely comment. Is the “us” you and Jackie? That opening is a bit of stream of consciousness with some help from the Oracle. 🙂
I meant readers in general – I’m sure I wasn’t the only one
Thank you. 🙂
Brilliant and wonderful – joyful and sad – personal and for all of us. Peace and strength to you and your family.
Thank you so much for your lovely comment and kind words, Frank.
Oh, that rendition of “Blackbird” is so beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with us. Your musings too, always beautiful. Keeping you, your mother, and your family in my thoughts. ❤
Thank you so much, Robin, for your kind thoughts and words. I’m glad you listened to “Blackbird.” I heard the story on the radio the other day.
This sent my mind in many directions, Merril – life, birth, death – and I enjoyed that. Loss can be like a shadow, waiting for us unawares. But, of course, we carry on.
Yes, you’re right, Ken. Thank you.