Image from Lenika Scott
A friend of mine asked me something today in the midst of conversation.
How are you? I continued on with small talk not fully answering the question.
How are you? A second time. More small talk.
How are you? Yes, a third time and quite the persistent friend.
I had to respond. Honestly. Without a smile to hide behind or chattering about my children or exchanging information about the weather. With three words asked three times, this person intuitively reached through space and forced me to turn the flashlight on
myself My Self. Yes, the misspelling was intentional (I know there’s grammar police watching). There’s something about shoving together my and self that can, at times, lead to overlooking our cores, our inner beings, ourselves Our Selves. When my and self are married, the word can be said too quickly. It can slip too easily off the tongue. When I dissected it and separated the word, I had to stop and think. How was My Self? My response necessitated an I. I was forced to define myself as I was. Not as how my hair was fixed or what color shirt I was wearing or if I had make-up on. I had to glance inwardly, look through my lens of awareness, and speak the truth.
How are you? Yes, it’s great that you are happily married or contentedly single or that you just got a new puppy or that your boss acknowledged your hard work with a raise.
How are you? Aside from having to shuffle your children to basketball or throw together a meal in thirty minutes or grade a stack of papers.
How are you? Really?
washing over me
and flooding my being a
welcomed liquid embrace
a cocoon enveloping my
eyes nose ears a blurring of
senses floating me crosscurrent
from the estuary to that spot of
freckled sunlight glinting off
limpid waters where leafy canopies
in mirrored reflections tease rippling
the place where You I first sprung
© Pamela Rossow
I’m excited to introduce a blogger friend whose poetry I have admired for some time. She agreed to guest post and share an original poem from her collection. She is an talented artist who weaves beautiful imagery and creativity into her poetry. She writes about relationships, nature, love, lost loves, and the bottom line? She moves me! Check out her site at glittering soot on her eyelashes and show her some love!
i flow in gold rivulets
alike a slowly setting sun,
skin tingling, lost in blistering air
of the never tomorrows and never agains.
we gulp it down,
saline waters still trapped in alveoli
aftertaste of sea spray on the lips
i remember all that you were
and all that you weren’t.
© glittering soot on her eyelashes
we never really lose lost loves.
the moral of the story? cut the thread you torture yourself with every once and again or sleep soundly knowing you managed to love again.
(you, “The Universe,” thought)
(you, “The Universe,” know better)
(she will know too)
© Pamela A. Rossow
feathery greens and hushed
silence greet me expectant
like shushing in the dark
before the flicked light switch
everyone jumping out and
yelling surprise I pause feet
bare padding layer upon
layer upon layer of prickly
needles piney fragrance
perfuming each step I waver
a tree scarred fallen heart-
wood exposed concentric
rings marking early or late
I stand wondering if I missed
the party altogether and peer
closely trying to read the
fir’s aged palm