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Words on Wednesday: There Be Witches…

24 Oct

June Marlowe Witch ImageA favorite poem I always recall during this time of year. From Anne Sexton, “Her Kind.”

I have gone out, a possessed witch,
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil, I have done my hitch
over the plain houses, light by light:
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.
I have been her kind.

I have found the warm caves in the woods,
filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,
closets, silks, innumerable goods;
fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:
whining, rearranging the disaligned.
A woman like that is misunderstood.
I have been her kind.

I have ridden in your cart, driver,
waved my nude arms at villages going by,
learning the last bright routes, survivor
where your flames still bite my thigh
and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.
A woman like that is not ashamed to die.
I have been her kind.

Image via


Words on Wednesday: Above All, Love You

11 Jul

It’s been a long time since I posted a “Word on Wednesday” entry. Here is an inspirational image I designed last night for my sister.

Above All, Love You

Would love to know what you think.

Words on Wednesday: Looking Back Edition

26 Oct
Amazing Reflection

img via

A favorite poem, by Sylvia Plath…

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful-
The eye of the little god, four cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

The Perils of Pavement: A Lament for the Souls Lost to Summer

20 Jul

It happens all the time, but more so in summer. Animals that we share our environments with, or rather, who allow us their space forlornly, lose their lives on our roads.

Honestly, it’s got to be one of the worst parts of taking a walk outside, or jogging in the suburbs. I try not to look when I’m on foot. I cross the street and fix my eyes straight ahead, to avoid the carnage, to shield my heart from breaking. And yes, we’ve all probably been there, behind the wheel, maybe too late in the night… at fault, or in the wrong place at the wrong time. We say accidents happen, but we are cautious near playgrounds. We slow down near schools. We would brake for a child. Why not practice these precautions for helpless animals?

I was coming home from the grocery store recently when I saw a fawn in the road. My first thought was, Poor baby. And then I thought of his or her mom, and I began to cry. I cried all the way home, mostly because I am empathetic to the fact that, while animals can feel sadness, they can’t make sense of it. That understanding alone can hollow you out if you have enough heart.

There’s something that separates the kind from the careless, and it is reflected in Jack Forbes’ poem, “Something Nice,” (below). I think of it from time to time when I realize this is a trait that’s hard to come by.

We must exercise caution when driving and watch for God’s creatures as we would our own children.

“He prayeth best who loveth best / All things both great and small.”
~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge