My sister's wedding was a wonderful celebration of family and friends, unity, and love. The ceremony was everything it should have been - food and drink, music and dancing, laughter and tears, remembering old times and making new memories.

As my sister said, "A Pisces marrying a Pisces on the water...it's a good sign."

Here's to Lolanda and Gerald!
May your wedding vows forever echo over the historic waters of the Potomac and your words of love spin eternally in the eddies of time.

I love you both with all my heart.

I wrote this poem a few years back, as part of my "Sister Poems" series. Lolanda is the youngest of five daughters. I am almost ten years older than she - so, I remember the night she was born. She was born at home. The country doctor had a flat tire on his way to our house to deliver her. His car was left on a bridge that crossed a creek. He and his nurse walked to our house in the dark, during a spring storm. See the water connections again? The name Lolanda is of Native American origin and means "little one".

LOLANDA


where are you
soft round head
with downy nape
solemn face
too young to be so


sea crystals sparkled
on your fingers
you were the first
of your kind to be born


you were careful not
to break your mother’s back
on those smoke filled days
of dark indigo skies


there you are gentle beauty
grown from shadowed halls
where we lived for hours
in blue glass stars


sweetness of innocence
lightness and dew
you traveled with a
companion for the
forbidden fruit
lost in a world that
is forever gone
we found you
there unharmed


a scream in the night
denied by one not much older
claimed my love for all time
and became an imprint
on my spirit forever

We're heading down to Old Town Alexandria, VA for my sister's wedding. She's getting married on the Nina Dandy Cruise Ship. We'll be cruising on the historic Potomac River, and when we aren't looking at the bride, or eating cake, or dancing - we'll be checking out the monuments in D.C. and looking at other sights along the way.

Everyone behave while I'm gone!! ;D

I'll be back to post a new poem and to visit your blogs on Monday.

OFFERINGS


I sit in a cool
triangle of shade
beside a sunny lake,
overtaken here and there
by lily pads, accented
with white blossoms sitting
in the lotus position.


I imagine gold fish,
as big as Buddha,
resting in the tangle
of roots below -
in silent meditation.


I remove my sandals and
walk along the grassy edge
of the lake, holy ground,
where clear water puddles
and pools in silence.


Suddenly, a sparrow lands
on a willow tree branch,
just above my head.
She sings and points
with a delicate wing
to the gibbous moon,
mysterious and pale,
in the late morning sky.


It is her gift to me.
What else can she give?
What more could I want?

IN RETROSPECT

Art by Donald Axleroad

IN RETROSPECT


In the dead chill of emptiness
where sound cannot vibrate
alone I remember being sick
in the mountains almost always
spring


Corners were cut close then
beside daffodil elixirs spilling
over onto chimney stones pitched
on the sides of steep hills burnt by
fires


I wonder now if those monsters
were merely chimaeras welcoming
me into paradise standing under
the flutter of peacock wings and
smoke


Or did they breathe and roar
and grow hair just for the travelers
who would pass them at light speed
rejoicing only to slump back again
sick

MUSIC OF THE STORM

Painting by Cash Garrison

MUSIC OF THE STORM


In the hollow of the mountain,
thunder booms and reverberates
like the sound of kettledrums,
- rising and falling -
resonating over the maidenhair
ferns and wild orchids,
blowing chaotically in the wind.


Searing flashes separate
darkness from light,
and, for a split second, we
see the crown of the mountain
looming high above us,
and below us the bright
rush of the creek water.


In the explosion of light,
the tall pitch pines seem
newly created – then,
quick to disappear again,
they leave us only with
their brilliant negatives.


Our faces press the windowpane
to feel the notes of the rain
and the percussion of thunder
- a crescendo -
exhilarating, yet, terrifying.


As the storm passes,
we listen to the eerie melody
rumbling down the corridor
of Appalachian rock
in a haunting echo.


Deep in our sleep, we dream
about the music of the storm.
We remember being a drop of rain
in the torrent – becoming one
with this primitive world,
still in the making.

Atonement of Atomes

This poem first appeared on Jason Evans' excellent blog, The Clarity of Night, as an entry in the "Midnight Road" short fiction contest.

Photograph courtesty of Jason Evans

ATONEMENT OF ATOMES


on that dark day
of the crucifixion
the sky opened up
and the moon
illuminated our sins

was it sweat or blood
that ran that day
was the altar marble
or pale cold skin

why still the darkness
creates our shroud
that hangs off beaten bones
and stirs us to awaken now
as undivided atomes

we were electrified
by an Ionic Savior
his words in us were charged
did not we feel them
stirring in our wombs and
burning in our hearts

we lost an electron
on the midnight road
but in our souls we keep
electricity to light the way
and tears of blood to weep.

Kahlo Tribute

fate is locked
in a painful garden
doors are knocked
in anxious despair
weeping mourns
the hour upon her
in the frenziedly painted air