My daddy’s daddy used to turn his head away each time a cardinal flew by.
In the year 2012 I entitled it “Red Birds and Ashes.”
There’s a place or several, a scent or another, that still seem to quake my soul but wouldn’t you know
that it never had to be for fear or superstitious in nature. In tune, no longer will I run. I’m listening.
Words, they flow out in written form but in person those nerves, they do make me stutter. Sometimes.
Nowadays I utter to the sky my thoughts my tasks my plans my goals my mood of the day in song form,
we never had to reform. Or did I?
“Cleaning up the mess I made,” as a healing mother also means restoring your children and speaking and breathing love and life into them, no matter how old they get. Never easy. Always worth it.
I now have more understanding and respect for the footsteps of survival,
and more gratitude for the systems in place to aid some after many present to them our desecrated nervous systems and outrage as we can read between several lines
longing to stand up but some of us need more energy, more time,
for now we must spoon feed our children what truths they’re willing to absorb. We still have much work to do in this home.
Celebrating My Son’s Journey to Adulthood
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