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Posts Tagged ‘courage’

And Then It’s Exponential

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on May 25, 2025| 2 Comments »


 
 
I made a cage out of doom.
Thought, who am I
to change the world.
Believed that thought.
It’s not so much that
the doom dissolved,
no. It’s never been
more real. But the cage?
Just one story of just
one person who chooses
to stand up for integrity,
equality and peace
is enough to show
what one courageous
person can do.
Then the bars of that cage
bend enough for the most
courageous part of the self
to slip through. I’m not
saying it isn’t scary.
But this is how
one becomes two.
 

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With Tears as I Write

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on April 1, 2025| 8 Comments »




Dear Charles Bukowski,
This morning when my student wanted to share a poem,
I was disappointed when she said the poem was yours.
I didn’t want to hear about whiskey and whores.
And there they were in stanza two,
but also, singing its way through the whole poem
was the bluebird that lives in your heart,
and Charles, I wish you could have heard it,
the living epiphany in her voice as she read the poem to me,
because she, too, has a beautiful animal trapped inside her.
She, too, realizes she can be too clever or too tough
to set that beautiful animal free.
And I fell in love, Charles, with her courage, yes,
but also with the honesty in your words
that winged through any cage
I might have put around my own heart.
In fact, I was shocked to realize I had a cage in place
with bars so stubborn they almost
kept your bluebird from flying in.
This began as a thank you letter, Charles,
but it’s also, I see, an apology.
To you, of course, and also to myself,
and most especially to that little bluebird
I tried to keep out. Look, now there’s a little
cup-shaped nest in my heart where that cage once was,
a nest woven of humility and genuine gratefulness.
And your bluebird now lives in me, too. I know you
wouldn’t cry over a bird living in the heart.
But Charles, you remind me, I do.

Love,
Rosemerry


to read “Bluebird” by Charles Bukowski, visit here.

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One Not Without Fear

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on February 27, 2025| 6 Comments »

said the ice to the flame
teach me again
to be cloud

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Walking with Lisa to Horsefly Mesa

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on May 23, 2022| 6 Comments »




Beside the purple lupine
she says, “The thing I most
don’t want to talk about—”
and then, with a sigh,
she talks about it,
and the path and the wild iris
and the bear bell and I
all listen as she meets
what she most wishes not
to meet. There are moments
when we step right up
to the line that delineates
the world that is and the world
as we wish it would be,
and no matter how much it hurts,
there is such relief in meeting the truth
that I swear as she spoke
the world was even more itself—
the lupine more purple,
the sky more blue,
and my heart more a heart
because of her courage
to take off her mask
and says this, this is what’s real.

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Why I Wear Tall Brown Boots Every Day

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , on March 5, 2021| 3 Comments »


 
 
In my tall
brown boots
I can walk
into any room,
any fear,
any graveyard
any loss.
I zip up
those tall
brown boots
and I become
a woman
I trust,
a woman
who knows
how well-protected feet
somehow make
it easier
for the heart
to stay open.
In my tall
brown boots,
I could even
meet betrayal,
could shake
that two-faced hand
and know
where I stand,
could walk
toward love
no matter which
way I walk,
could walk
ever closer
to myself.
 
 
  

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Lesson from the Ouzel

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on January 7, 2021| 5 Comments »

Sometimes I want to be anywhere but here,
but today, I let myself feel it all.

I go to the river covered in ice,
and move along the bank until

I find the open places where the dark-feathered ouzel
chooses to submerge in the cold, cold water—

It doesn’t hesitate to plunge into frigid depths.
It knows it was made for this.

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After Reading the Headline About Rising Deaths

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on May 4, 2020| 3 Comments »

IMG_6144

 

 

Today I take the courage I don’t feel

and the resilience I doubt and

all my unspent longing to serve,

and I bring them, cupped in my hands,

to the garden. They nestle there in my palms

like three baby birds that have not yet

opened their eyes. I take them to hear

the pungent song of the garlic shoots

and the thriving chives who chant

how to survive the winter.

I bring them to hear the strawberry leaves

who sing how to flourish despite the frost.

and the old song of chicken manure

and composted grass that hum about

how old life begets new life.

And they open their tiny beaks,

as if they could eat the green song.

How vulnerable they are.

So I open to the song, too.

I do what must be done.

I take in the nourishing song,

and feed them with my own mouth.

 

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Wishing I Were Stronger in the Face of Grief

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on April 7, 2020| 4 Comments »

IMG_6058

Tonight, courage is the voice

of the mint tea as it lends its strength,

its green to the water.

 

It’s no small thing

to infuse something else

with warmth, with sweetness.

 

All day, I’ve wanted to be bolder.

All day, I’ve felt unsure

of what comes next.

 

The mint says yes, says drink,

says rest. Says, a small kick

can do a lot. The mint says,

 

one way to get stronger

is patience. It soothes me,

it helps me to sit

 

and feel what I feel

this smooth tea—

subtle, strong enough.

 

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Tonight I Pray for All the Doctors, Nurses, Health Care Workers

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on March 21, 2020| Leave a Comment »

 

 

And tonight I think

of the seventeen Italian doctors,

dead. And the hundreds

of thousands of people

whose test results were positive.

And all the doctors, nurses,

health care workers—

some right here in our town.

I think of them eating breakfast,

reading the same discouraging news,

then kissing their loved ones,

putting on their shoes,

and walking out the door,

though resolution’s as elusive

as last month’s peace—

the peace we didn’t

even know we had.

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Should We Tell Her?

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on February 22, 2018| 2 Comments »

 

 

 

Somewhere in my heart

there is a tiny woman

with a crimson scarf

and hair pulled back

who is balancing

on a tightrope—

she has not yet learned

that it is okay

for her to fall,

that the net

will always catch her,

so she keeps doing

the same boring walk

back and forth

thinking how brave

and how proficient

she is at staying

on the rope,

never learning

she could also

jump and swing

and leap and twirl and fall

and get back up.

 

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