Sometimes all she has are eyes
Panes of a violent silence
peering out from
All she has are eyes sometimes
Phantom dissolves of vogue dissensions
cold and hard
Are eyes sometimes all she has;
A forever home in a public domain?
look out dreams!
scared I cry!
lavenders you scream—
mourning walks free
She has our eyes; sometimes always
Echoes’ purification of nameless translucence
green canyon friendships
blue ice waters
Here, (hands over eyes)
Here, (hands over cheeks)
Here, (hands sweep)
Sparkles of a thousand
Lost in the moment undone
The original bones of this poem, I drew into being a long time ago. A version I shared on Medium. She evolves. Today, I re-envisioned her as she has grown.
Why? Life in process. September I will install a meditation walk, and I want her ready. She wants to be a part of it.
Sometimes all she has are eyes,
and sometimes, they are all she needs.
Relying on herself, still in a mist; veiled separations from life; people.
This week has been difficult. And in the difficult I give thanks; why? because I grew; was stretched; released; felt.
In real time, something I am not accustomed to sharing, and in this season of my life, here I am.
What happened. Researching floor refinishing products, I clicked on what was suppose to be the website of a certain company; instead something horrific invaded my computer and “Warning Microsoft Warning” blared out.
I screamed. I panicked. No! NO! shrilling from my voice.
My browser would not shut off. Finally I was able to shut the computer down.
Crying, screaming, confused, and scared, I called for help. I called the home phone of one; emailed another, and sent text to still more. My dear friend who lives upstairs came home. I got into my wheelchair, but got it stuck.
I gave up, I melted down. In the end, four friends and my husband descended upon my house.
Fixed the computer and made sure all was well. Simply sat with me, allowed me to be.
In the end, we sat on the porch talking about the lives of trees and plants; enjoying nature’s wisdom and friendship.
I called for help.
I screamed NO!
I felt support without embarrassment or fear.
Why do I share this? Because it is life. Life post trauma. Sometimes when I least expect it everything and more hits hard. Life, life(s) hard.
And it is okay.
Layers of honesty learning. The guard takes lunch. And it is okay. The only thing it means is I am human, and community is beautiful. Amen
paint much love, always,
Connie Karleta Sales
a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower