Thursday Poem (a day late): Wounds

Everything is darkened now

by the shade that you pulled down

ice and eggshells cover our floors

so we stand still to be safe.

Now, I replay conversations 

even ones we never had 

to hear the sounds of hurt, of trying

to see what good I made bad

Everything is broken now

oh, but everything already was

Did I expect to be any different?

To escape your wounding wounds?

With trembling hands you came to us

seething, aching years

looking for another place

to lay down that tired, old blame

Let us take it from you

though its parts can't be replaced

anything to make you stop

searching, buying, endlessly

Everything is different now;

the ticking of this clock

asks of me, 'What next?'

as you close your eyes high above

Everything is here

everything's wide open.

Nothing will change

while nothing stays the same.

bare

It pained me to do this today. As I snipped off all those leaves - those huge, weeks-old leaves - it felt like one big sigh. And not a sigh of relief but a sigh of failure. A little embarrassment. And reality.

These Red Russian kale plants had done nothing but good work, growing with tremendous speed and beauty. As soon as we put them in the newly built raised beds, they took off. It was obvious they felt right at home. But they grew so fast that I couldn't keep up. Before I knew it, there was too much to eat on our own. (And none of my neighbors wanted kale, instead asking, "Do you got collards?" I know what I'm growing next year.)

So, today, it had to be done. I got the scissors and went to town. Every leaf, big and small, had to be gone. They needed a re-do, a start over, a second chance. And I need a second chance to tend, harvest, pay attention to them more closely.


And I knew this: the only way to get that second chance to was to lay it bare.

Now, a patch of stems remains. Bare, exposed, no fruit to show for their labor.

But though they are bare, they are not barren. They will grow again; they will bear fruit. Had they not been cut back so severely, so completely, they would not grow again, would not give us anything of value.

Take courage. Lay it bare. Grow again.

Thursdays Are For Poetry: The Beginning

Thursdays will now be for poetry... at least, on this blog. And I'm dedicating each Thursday poem to Kim P., who says that in hell, she would surely be forced to listen to poetry.

Measure the need

measure the speed

happiness, every inch will bring.

Lock it inside

with your love by your side

while the rain falls

falls down with ease.

Ticking of clocks

rising, falling of stocks

tell of hours we waste away.

While the cool breezes blow -

this won't last, you know -

we'll keep to the insides of ourselves.

The prison of years

is a prison of fears

pressed upon by yourself.

And in the presence of free

you've not learned to be

more than they told you, you were.

__________________

We'll drive for miles 

just to walk this porch

to pray these prayers

cast out hope

that you can find

truth about yourself

truth never told you

lies exposed

stones fallen from hands

prison doors flung wide.

Measure the years

measure the fears

find them fallen short.

Time for the Garden

The garden needs time - time to grow and time to be noticed.

One of the things I appreciate most about having a unique schedule (part-time at an office, in addition to music, gardening, and what other works springs up in a day) is the time allowed in the garden.

Now, instead of always setting aside an hour here, two hours there, I also notice things in passing, things I didn't notice before because I wasn't passing the garden at 9am, on the way to dump the compost in the backyard. I didn't notice all those mushrooms (argh!) growing up around the lettuce, or how dry the cucumber sprouts were or how beautiful the rosemary bush is finally becoming!

Oh, I eventually noticed them, but sometimes it was too late to do anything about it. Now, I discover things a little at a time - mushrooms (argh!), yellow leaves, weeds, etc. - and can truly tend to the garden in a way I haven't done before.

                                         

      Bean sprouts

"Red Russian" kale growing beautifully in raised beds

Lettuce in the main garden...

...and lettuce in the raised beds. They grow so much faster.

We've been waiting for our rosemary to grow stronger; it's happening!

Buying Music... and Supporting Musicians

You don't have to buy music. 

You don't have to purchase entire albums for $17.99 from Best Buy, or $11 from iTunes, or even individual songs for $.99. You don't have to pay for Pandora or Grooveshark Internet radio (and you don't have to complain when you hear ads, which make it possible for you to have free Internet radio). You don't even have to leave a tip on NoiseTrade, if you don't want to (but by the end of this, I hope you will consider it).

No matter what musicians or record labels think, you just don't have to buy music anymore.

And I think music, in and of itself, isn't up for sale. There are families gathered around pianos at Christmas, friends on front porches, and subway musicians in Russia playing music because they love to play and sing and share. Music heals wounds, stirs souls, inspires revolutions and keeps violence at bay. Music is for everyone.

You don't have to buy music; but you should support musicians - especially musicians who are doing more than playing for the family at Christmas, more than sitting on the front porch. Musicians who are spending hours writing songs that you love, practicing for shows that you take video and photos of with your iPhone to post on Facebook, and putting out albums that you play on repeat for hours.

These same musicians work hard and pay their bills and make a lot of phone calls and emails to book gigs and grow gardens to cook food in their kitchen to put on their dinner table. They use their God-given gifts to bring to the world hope and light and goodness and empathy and even a good dose of grumbling (who doesn't need a good song to help them get their frustrations out?)

And to support musicians, you should go to their shows and buy their music, their recorded music. Every show has hours of planning, set-up and rehearsal time. Every album has hours and hours of singing, playing instruments, recording, re-recording, re-re-recording, editing, and paying your musicians. Sometimes we give our music away for free. Sometimes we play free shows. But at some point, we want to know you support us, believe in us, and that if you actually like our music, you'll pay for that music (or leave that tip on Noisetrade) or the show or the t-shirt.


You don't have to buy music... but you probably should.