Standing At The Sink

February 18, 2014February 18, 2014 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ Leave a comment

Standing At The Sink

If you find me staring through the pane
Fuzzy, focusing on things
That aren’t right here
Far away I seem to you
Wandering out
back in again
Lost in thought inside my head
Making art and hearing holy whispers to press ahead
Bubbles resting in the kitchen sink
It is not the labor that you think
Upon first glance,
upon a second glance
You’ll see
Breathing rapid at the chance

To go chase Robins in my dreams
Daily washing worry down the metal
Drain
Choosing to find beauty in the ash
He bowed
Wrestled something from the soil
Hope, I think, was birthed on my front lawn

He landed there in front of me
As I stood steeped in worry at my sink
The birds transformed me into
Something holy new

Now I am rusty breasted in my dreams
Wings will take me far from here
I can join the Robins and
Go places in my mind
Disappear, fly somewhere other
Than leaning on the dirty sink

Every anxious thought
So filled with fear
Is floating in a sea
Made of foamy bubbles laced with dirt
I am a vessel
Propped up, leaning on the counter
Trying not to
Sink

Even the drain does not want
To take from me
This toxic waste

And if you see me resting in the rocking chair

Here but not, a countenance
Filled with worry and concern

I am not resting, idle though it seems
I have run away, escaping to my
Dreams
Asked them to carry me
Someplace other than right now, right here

The words give solace
Comfort
And remove me from
A place of tears

Now I have joined the Robins
Dancing on a sea of brown
They’ve brought
A story laced with hope

My soul
Is grateful for a flock of orange breasted birds
Content when digging
In the wormy dirt.
And I am back now
Washing dishes in the sink.

The Winter Of A Potential Malcontent

February 13, 2014February 13, 2014 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ Leave a comment

For a long and frozen moment
Moments of dark and cold fall over us
Weapons of malcontent
I might have known
War zone trauma
Traumatized by Pax
So close to peace, its wretched name
Trees break, grunt, moan
Fall from the sky, war wounded
Like bombs extinguishing
Life from the day
Exploding
Last week’s tulips bow in mourning
My shoulders
Rise to my ears in fear
A mortar of pine and oak, ice and pine
Will land on this
World of mine
Repetition of a death march
Battle weary are we

The talking head said
To fight cabin fever
Stay hydrated, move,
Stimulate your mind
All creativity is drying up
Going up in smoke with the fire
That is now our world, hovering round
The hearth of the home
2014 reeks of 1814

No power no water
No light
Disconnection sets in
Dirty and cold

The piano, frozen
As am I
Spoiled by Pandora and Spotify
Times like this we wish
We could remember to play
Ebony and ivory

The winter will not be a victor
I refuse to bow down and give in
Lonely and cold
Dark and restlessness
Quiet and routine bully my soul
My white flag, were I to raise it
Would not be seen

We are adrift in a sea of white
And grays color the soul

Though I know Spring, like the tide will rise
And the sun will burn
Ice will melt
And yes
We will dance and feast, warm our souls
On the heat of the earth
The tyranny of the urgent is ruling the day
Heavy handed and cruel
I will not lie down in defeat

For these are the days
The right here times
When the battle is on
And in full swing
I armor up with
Flashlight in hand
And the words
Always
Words will shift the balance of power
Ravenous and hungry
I devour her words.

At first I sat with “Booked”
In my hands
Propped in the threshold of the front door
Squeezing the light out of the day
As the earth stood nearly still
When an early visitor came to call
Nightfall
And darkness
And I like a child rolled up in a ball
Fought hard against tears
Formed from the words
As they lept from the page

I battle-scarred

Seeking solace
I remain
Held captive, nearly numb
Frozen in place

Now thawed by Prior
And her words
Held
In a warm embrace
Safe from Pax, seeking
Peace
Inside the pages

Of “Booked”

Remembering Pink Among The January Blues

January 23, 2014 ~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

Remembering Pink Among The January Blues

Cold crawls down my throat
And freezes deep
Among two winter-laced lungs
Hope frozen but for
A moment
Thawed by the chambers
Of a rapid beating
Heart, pumping, forcing
Red, shaded crimson
Rises to my cheeks
And to my nose
And colors
Pink the tip

And I
I purse my lip
Just like the winter
Bloom

And I am
Slowly
Thawed, outside and in
By warm remembering

Of faded valentines
Bows
Posted on the mailbox
Declaring that a daughter has been
Born
Of salmon rushing up stream
Against all odds
And flannel p.j.’s worn
In college
Days of shades of
Pink

And every year she comes
When hope is all but lost
She pushes through the cold
And frost
And hangs a hundred blooms
Whispering that Spring
Will come, it always does

And thaws the coldest soul
Stuck in the middle of
A million signs of
January
And her deepest
Shades of blues