I think we all need to hear something like this now.
Poem: The Madmen
I think we all need to hear something like this now.
Tag Archives: thoughts
Extend your love bubble
The blessing/curse of the empathic poet is that you are constantly searching for meaning in the pain of life. It’s not comfortable. Sometimes you have to ponder for a loooooooooong time before you come to any conclusion and sometimes it happens like a lightning strike.
That happened to me today. I almost literally stumbled across a truth about life. And I think it revealed to me the purpose behind the thing we all want in spite of how vulnerable it makes us.
Love.
How did it happen?
I was on my way to work. About a block away a young man carrying a rake who was obviously getting ready to work in one of my neighbors’ yards (in the 95-feels-like-150-degree heat) stumbled. He recovered quickly and looked around to see if anyone had seen. I immediately pretended to be looking straight ahead, not at him at all, and sent him a reassuring thought. Didn’t see anything. You’re safe.
I immediately wondered. Why did I think “You’re safe”? And I realized that’s what we all want. As we stumble through this world full of sharp spikes and tripwires, all we really want is to feel safe. And that’s nearly impossible to achieve, especially in this day and age when you just might be caught on camera and if you are, your stumble might go viral.
I recently made a playlist of songs that make me feel like everything is going to be okay. My life sometimes feels completely messed up. I have even been glad I only have another 30-40 years of it (if I’m lucky). And my life is a good one. I have people to love and who love me. They cushion some of the blows, guard me against some of the spikes, and pick me up when I trip.
And that’s why I think I’ve figured out what the purpose of love is. Love is like a bubble around us, one that gives us a sense of security. Safety. The thing is, if we do love right, it can give others that same sense. Even those we don’t know. Imagine extending your bubble of love to people around you. There are people in need all around us, whether they’re tripping over a rake or hurting for some deeper reason. Maybe you can’t actually help them. Maybe you don’t have resources beyond what you need yourself.
But instead of laughing when someone stumbles or posting someone’s misfortune on the internet for “hits” or “likes”, you can send them a reassuring thought. “It’s okay. I got you. You’re safe.”
Imagine if we could all feel safe?
Pink Hair vs. the Universe
Yesterday I found a pink hair in my sink. No, I don’t play with Strawberry Shortcake dolls. I do dye my hair pink, though.
So what’s the big deal about finding a pink hair in my sink?
I couldn’t figure that out, either, at first. But for some reason, it thrilled me. It slowly dawned on me. It’s not a white hair because I dyed it pink. I did that. I caused a change in my life.
Over the course of the past year, I’ve come to the very difficult conclusion that I do not control the universe. Stuff I am not okay with will happen and I will most likely have to deal with it and I won’t be able to make a significant change in it. But then there’s other stuff that happens and if I don’t like it, I can change it.
Like white/silver/grey hair. No matter what you call it, if you don’t like it, you can change it. I looked at that pink hair and it thrilled me because I can’t change what the universe and other people will do to me, but I can change what I do to myself. I can curl up in a corner and cry because the universe SUCKS and is beating the crap out of me (sometimes), or I can come out swinging. And that’s what that pink hair represents.
I can’t change the universe, but I can change the color of my hair. Look out, universe.
Poem: Motherhood
This isn’t exactly a new poem. It was inspired by my oldest son but over the course of the past year I’ve seen more and more instances of strength in all three of my kids. They’ve been generous with that strength, too, loaning it to me when I needed it. Like a warm coat they take off their own shoulders to place over mine.
So thank you, kiddoes. Without you I wouldn’t be me.
Part two of my poetry reading series
Grateful
Last night I saw this rose blooming by my doorstep.
I had been feeling pretty bleak about the holiday. My life is not what it was a year ago. But when I saw that rose, I paused for a second. That rose must be pretty damn determined to bloom because it’s been downright cold the past couple of nights. It made me think about my attitude.
Yes, one part of my life sucks. But there are so many other aspects that really don’t. I have my kids and my store, my new home and my pets (especially Derby of the magical purr). I have my family and more friends than I really deserve. And I am grateful. For each and every one of these things, I am heartfelt, on my knees grateful.
Sometimes, when things are tough, we forget there are always things to be grateful for. And sometimes if you start counting the small things you have, you realize there are some pretty big things to be grateful for also. And if there aren’t at the moment, then concentrate on the beauty of those small things. Remember, rose bushes start out as tiny seeds.
Happy thanksgiving.
Graphic Novel Update: With Pictures!
I am about a third of the way through the pictures I will need for my graphic novel. I haven’t even started the formatting process, which I imagine will take a HUGE amount of time. While drawing, I’ve found myself rewriting, too, which is probably a good thing? Time will tell, I suppose. Anyway, I told myself when I got to this point, I’d share a little more with you. So here goes. Here’s a picture I drew with a tiny excerpt:
I know my art is very basic. 🙂 I have never claimed to be a real artist. I’m using photographs I’ve taken mostly, the little artist models of people in different poses for others. My imagination is supplying some of it, but a lot is simple photo manipulation. Although I am rather proud of this one:
That one started off as a photo but quickly became something different. I’m not even certain where it will fit into the scheme of the graphic novel, but you can be sure it will be there.
And finally, the slightly updated cover by Farah Evers Designs (cover illustration by Barb Williams) along with the actual blurb for the book. Remember, this is still months away, but I have made it this far…
Poem: The End of the Dream, or Burning Hell
If you’re one of those who thinks God will save us from any mess we get ourselves into, so we can do whatever the hell we want to do, I hope you’re right. Maybe that’s not enough, but I do hope you’re right. On the other hand, I can’t help but think, well, if I was God, I would’ve thrown up my hands and walked away from us idiots a long time ago. And where does that leave us now with our planet on fire, inadequate leadership, a virus killing thousands per day and no way out? I know where it leaves us. It leaves us at the end of all that has nurtured us for so long.
The End of the Dream, or Burning Hell
By Michelle Garren Flye
Here we stand at the end of the dream.
Where do we go now?
I see no shining trails leading us away
From the end of all we know.
From bloody skies and boiling streets,
There is no rescue to come.
This horror we’ve concocted here
Is what’s left of our home.
Yes, the dream is gone, and rage takes over;
I feel it under my skin.
It crawls in through my open mouth
And makes its home within.
Fire and famine, fear and sorrow,
Burning hell takes over.
The nightmare has only just begun—
No one’s coming to wake you.
Poem: Hellsong
Hellsong
By Michelle Garren Flye
Betrayal burns, feverish holes
Sprout and fill with flame,
Spilling ash out onto coals;
Leaping up, you’re unable to tame.
Will you watch it all burn?
Where will you go to escape?
No matter which way you turn
The consummation takes shape.
Don’t look for a way out—
Just give yourself to the fire.
The freedom you used to flout
Just a subject for the choir.
Your sins catch up to you here.
Your lies will haunt you again.
Remember them all, embrace fear—
Hell sings out in this last quatrain.
Poem: Fire (Because the world is burning and nobody seems to care)
Fire
By Michelle Garren Flye
Burning from the inside out
Is better than exploding in public
Keep it inside, don’t be loud
No one cares what’s in your heart
So you can get away with that
Live a subtle life
Don’t speak what’s not asked.
Or…
Spit out the ash and fire and lava
That’s built up all your life
Because who cares?
Once it’s out it won’t matter
Anyway.
Lava leaves only ash in its wake
Ash chokes those who dare breathe it
And Fire destroys all in its path.
So burn anyway you want—
Kick it out to your neighbors (aha!)
With their green lawns peppered by red signs
Smash it into the bumpers branded enemy…
Or breathe it deliciously
Over those too slow to resist
Caress it onto those who forget to run
From Fire.
BREATHE: Michelle Garren-Flye 