My Name Is Not Mavis

writings

  • Let the hard bitter apple
    Be what it is without needing
    To take another bite.

  • A Reminder for the Fridge:

    1.
    You can’t see the bruises on my heart.
    And I can’t see yours.
    The old ones. The fresh ones.
    The ones that never healed.
    The ones we protect most.

    2.
    If we spend decades
    In each other’s company,
    We might have a glancing understanding
    Of the injuries,
    But we still fumble
    With slippery fingers,
    Less dexterous than we hoped,
    Pressing hard on those bruises,
    Quickening the familiar wary ache.

    3.
    I am sorry for that.
    As perhaps you are?
    I am sorry.
    Especially to those
    Who I love or did love most.

    4.
    I have forgiven
    You and you and you.
    As I hope you have forgiven me.
    I have forgiven you and you and you
    Even when I press my own bruises
    As if to remind myself
    Of my vulnerable precious heart
    In this flimsy ribcage of mine.

    5.
    But, like you, this heart
    Doggedly wants to love and be loved.
    Despite the bruises. Yours and yours
    And yours and mine.
    So shall we proceed with care?
    Remembering there might be bruises.
    Doing our best
    To hold each other with
    Tender softness and
    Gentle wisdom of the injury.

    Just a reminder for the fridge.
    About bruises and forgiveness and love.

  • Gentling

    Hold the knotty past carefully
    And well. As if it were your most
    Precious possession.
    Do not worry it night and day.
    Your fingers fretting and tightening
    The hurt as you try to understand
    The complicated ins and outs.
    Simply hold it. Softly.
    And gently whisper, What a pleasure
    It has been. What a work of art
    You are. Unique and gorgeous
    In your complexity. May you
    See the stunning beauty
    Of the past that created
    This world of you.

  • Choose to Arrive

    Choose a soft place
    To rest your mind
    Choose a brave, steady task
    To honor your heart
    Choose tender words
    To heal your body
    Live without fear
    Of not measuring up
    To the mark made
    By an invisible hand
    That isn’t even there
    Stop squinting
    And perseverating
    About the details
    Close your eyes
    Open your arms
    And choose to arrive

  • last night

    we stood on the street corner
    with candles and rageful faith
    burning as we pulled on the edges
    of all that isn’t right.
    we are well beyond the worst
    our humanness can afford.
    but, we can’t lose our grit and hope,
    we tell each other and ourselves
    as we take the limp helplessness
    and give it purpose
    in the ways that fit us most.
    we can stand together,
    we tell each other,
    at the edges of our fear,
    and, as necessary,
    we will heed the call
    to leap into the fray
    following the light
    of hundreds who shone before us.